Those who mourn…….

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Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted…….Jesus

Last night the wind howled wildly. I was thinking of the 19 firefighters who lost their lives yesterday and praying for their families as I debated whether to go outside and take down the flag, which I could hear whipping furiously. You could smell the dust from inside the house. It was the same kind of wind that trapped those firefighters and made it an impossible situation. They were known as the Granite Mountain Hotshots. One of the news articles said of them: “There were tough as nails, but being nice was key requirement.” So today, we mourn. We miss them, even though we didn’t even know them.

Yesterday I was volunteering and I missed the sermon, but I saw that many who came out were wiping tears. Pastor Kevin has been preaching on the Beatitudes for this series. He talked of how difficult it was when he lost his best friend to suicide. How he tried to help but it wasn’t enough in the end. We don’t have to look far to find grief and sadness and loss. But, thankfully, we also don’t have to look too far to find joy, and life, and laughter. In fact, each day carries a measure of both, but one overpowers the other.

Jesus came to an earth in mourning. The Bible says, even nature is in a state of mourning:

“We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time.” Romans 8:22

Isaiah, many centuries before Jesus birth, describes him this way: “He was despised and rejected by mankind, a man of suffering, and familiar with pain. Like one from whom people hide their faces he was despised, and we held him in low esteem.” Isaiah 53:3

When tragedy and sadness strike, we search for answers. We search for causes as if explaining it away will make the grief easier to carry. We want to say something, anything to make them feel better. Sometimes though, things just happen, and there are no words. All we can do is hold our arms out to them. Cry with them. Mourn with them. And know that on the other side of mourning, is hope.

Always hope.

I won’t hold out any empty platitudes or easy answers today, but I will hold out Jesus. Lots of people have died, and lots of people have felt the weight of grief, but He is the only One who not only went through it, He had the power to conquer it for all time, for us.  I can attest to the fact that the only way we can successfully pass through that dark tunnel of grief, and death is with Him by our side. I know, I’ve been there.

So today, I pray for these heartbroken families. They are in a deep valley and right now they feel they will never get out. But someday, they will wake up and not feel quite so devastated. Because that’s what we do. We go on. That’s how we honor those who have gone before. And until then, we hold out our love, with tear-stained faces that will one day be alight with joy once again.

I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us. For the creation waits in eager expectation for the children of God to be revealed. For the creation was subjected to frustration, not by its own choice, but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope thatthe creation itself will be liberated from its bondage to decay and brought into the freedom and glory of the children of God.

We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption to sonship, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what they already have?But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently. Romans 8: 18-25

Photo credit:David Kadlubowski / The Arizona Republic via AP

A Provision Story

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She’d moved the thing for years, and when it finally teetered to place on its graceful clawed feet she vowed never again. Then she cried. It was the last thing of her Mom’s to move over and the most stressful.

Like an unwelcome but distinguished guest it stood innocently in one corner while the contemporary one stood on the other side as if they were fighting for space; a face off in the dining room. We mourned the loss of our empty wall. It went with nothing else in the room.

Because her parents had moved everywhere she did, the china cabinet came too. It was her Mom’s most prized possession. For years Elaine has had the emotional and physical stress of moving it, and with each move it had become more of a millstone around her neck. She had horrific visions of the thing crashing to the ground like a redwood, the irreplaceable glass in shards on the ground.

After her Mom went into assisted living she thought surely someone in the family would want it. No one did. It went on eBay. One woman actually laughed in her face when she told her the price. And believe me, the price was very fair considering what it was.

This past Monday, we decided to try our hand at antique dealing. We were committed to an all day mission; to finding it, in addition to around 500 assorted glass pieces a home.

The first guy was friendly and talkative, but not very interested in anything else.

When we walked in the second place, there were three women at the counter and all three heads swiveled in our direction.  One of them looked at us stony-faced from behind her computer the whole time we were there.  The only time she actually cracked a smile and chortled was when Elaine said, “I have been stuck with all this crap all these years now, 25 boxes worth.”

The second woman, the spokeswoman of the group, almost threw up the sign of the cross with her fingers at the mention of glassware. “We only do furniture.” She must have said it 4 times. It was obvious she didn’t know an Occupied Japan Toby from a Matchbox car. Don’t worry if you don’t either.

Ms. “Only do furniture” wasn’t interested in the China Cabinet.

Our next stop took us 15 miles away to downtown. We refused to be discouraged.

We entered through the alley, starting to feel a little like beat-down used car salesmen, but still holding out hope. A man looking like a cross between Garrison Keillor and Norman Bates sat hunched over and peering intently into his computer screen, very loudly crunching on Sun Chips.

I couldn’t even catch her eye. I know my friend, and one of her pet peeves is people eating loud foods in her ear and clacking loudly on the keyboard and this guy was doing both. I wondered how long she would last. It was a test.

We thought maybe he would stop eating as he bent closer to look at the pictures she held out via her phone, but as he paused with one chip poised in the air, he leaned even closer and took the whole thing in his mouth and crunched even louder. I almost laughed out loud.

I saw his eyes flicker with interest as he got up from the chair, wiping Sun Chip dust on his slightly smudgy jeans as they talked. “Well,” he said, “will you be home tonight? I would like to see what you have, and my friend might be interested in the cabinet.”

He came around 5:15 and looked at everything she had for sale, including things which were not. He seemed to be making himself at home but it was educational, he seemed to know his stuff. He then called his buddy and gave him directions to our house.

His buddy pulled up later in a 2012 Super Sport black corvette. After inspection, he said he did in fact, want the China cabinet. He said he had 6 others at home by the same maker. He took a few other things as well, including a gun that had belonged to her Dad. “The safety is faulty,” she told him, but he didn’t seem to mind as he pointed it in my general direction. Elaine told me it might be good if I stepped to the side. I agreed.

He couldn’t hear a thing, and his voice boomed throughout the house. The cats hid under the beds. He regaled us with stories, this good old boy who did two tours in Vietnam and came home with a purple heart, and who just happened to collect antiques. Who would have thought?

The next day he and his buddy backed up a trailer while I herded cats.

He came in laughing and booming out instructions to his friend, who repeated everything he said under his breath in a very raspy voice sounding much like Red Green, that goofy Canadian guy who fixes everything with duct tape. It was like a comedy routine.

I watched from the window with a blow-by-blow description for Elaine who was pacing nervously from room to room. I gasped as they tipped it end over end and slid it into the trailer.  And we both let out a breath when we watched the tail lights receding down the street.

It wasn’t just the end of a piece of furniture it was another step closer to freedom for her.  One step closer toward her own life again.

Later that night we drank a toast in celebration, but not before we said a prayer of thanks for a God who provides in some very creative and humorous ways. “When I heard that guy crunching those chips,” she said, “It was like God was telling me that He was gonna do this for me, but that I was going to have to jump through a couple of hoops first.”

Before he left our new friend left his business and cell number. When Elaine showed him some projects she has done, he said: “If you need anything for any project, just call me. I have a whole workshop at your disposal.”

We smiled when we remembered how we prayed, asking God for success, for a sale. And I am always amazed at who and how He comes through. A chip crunching antique dealer and a purple hearted vet who said yes to his wife’s request for a house filled with antiques.

God is so good.

A moment in the grass

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When do we lose it? I thought this as I lay back in the grass, with not a little trepidation beforehand. We were all in my brother’s backyard and it was three-way catch sitting on the ground. All at once, Lauryn lay flat on the ground and insisted we do the same. It was part of the game. Of course Grandpa did it right away. Squeamish Aunt Lori was more hesitant. I was thinking about the big pile of dog doo I had cleaned up back there the day before.

She patted the ground and smiled. Insisting again that I join in the game. And I did. How could I resist that smile? Laying there in that grass, I actually thought I heard it say something. I heard the grass talk. It has a voice if you listen, and kids hear that stuff. As adults we are too far off the ground to hear it, in more ways than one. Laying in that grass, with birdsong and her laughter in the background, I thought. “This is a moment I will always remember.”

Slices of life,  of time. Some of them indelible in our minds, others pass by without notice. Sometimes the biggest things are learned in the smallest actions.

It’s time to remember how it was to see a hill and immediately roll down it. It’s time to run through sprinklers. It’s time to be excited about life. That’s one of the best ways I know to let others know you know the author of Life. Some say we will know Christians by their love, and that certainly should be one of the first things people notice. I say another is:

They will know us by our joy.  

It is a by-product of knowing Jesus. And no matter what happens in life, no matter what is going on. Joy should be your backdrop. Absurd joy in absurd moments. It always takes me by surprise when it happens to me, but it really shouldn’t.

It’s why Paul and Silas were able to sing in jail.  And why David could write a song of praise even when he was running for his life.

Join me today, won’t you? Do something kid-like. And encourage someone else to do the same.

1 Peter 1:8-9 Though you have not seen him, you love him. Though you do not now see him, you believe in him and rejoice with joy that is inexpressible and filled with glory, obtaining the outcome of your faith, the salvation of your souls.

A dream and a prayer

God Wants You

Lord, I will be going through some tough things in the next few years, unless you come first.

I worry about a world without my folks.

When you get into your fifties you start counting things.

How many years do they have, how many years do the pets have?

How many do I have…….(only You know.)

Years left, years gone.

Last night before I went to sleep, I remembered a time.

Flying frisbees in the meadow, and me with flowing hair

Enjoying youth, and freedom. I can see me walking alongside the meadow

radio swinging as I come from the shower in the morning sun.

Dreaming of meeting a boy on a bridge. (I never did)

The feeling that God has kissed the world and it’s all good.

I remember a time when fire sang down a mountain. Not everyone does.

In that quiet before sleep I heard tent pengs echo through camp,

Stellars crack the air…..and I hear my Mom say, “Coffee’s ready.”

And it’s such a wonderful beautiful memory my eyes are awash with years.

Yet, in the midst of all this Lord, you have blessed us in the nick of time again.

With your provision just when we needed it.

My heart sings with gratitude.

And it will never stop…….one beat here.

The next Heaven.

Come, let us sing for joy to the Lord; let us shout aloud to the Rock of our salvation.

Let us come before him with thanksgiving and extol him with music and song. For the Lord is the great God,    

the great King above all gods. In his hand are the depths of the earth,    

and the mountain peaks belong to him. The sea is his, for he made it, and his hands formed the dry land. Psalm 95:1-5

Feeling like Mary today

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I thought maybe the ocean had taken my words out with the waves, never to be brought back again, but I was wrong. I will always have more words, because there will always be more life.
I smile when I say this, because I get a vision of all the writers in Heaven going for that corner spot in the patio….quills in hand.

And I think of everyone else doing what each of them have been made to do each in their own bright respective corner.

In many ways I am still processing vacation……..still reliving moments that I know I will never forget, like that iridescent pearly residue left behind after the waves wash over the shore, some things remain. And sometimes I feel like Mary when she pondered in her heart all that the angel had told her, all that God was still telling her.

And in case I don’t, I have the evidence the ocean did not take back. It never gets old, walking for miles on the beach stooping to exclaim over treasure the sea leaves. “Now don’t show me yours until we get back and then we will compare” I said, feeling the wonder. Feeling like a kid.

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As I picked up my new devotional book this morning, I remembered Mom saying, “I’ll buy that for you, I didn’t buy you a Birthday present.” As if she needs to, she has given me her whole life already, ever since I was born.

I remember the tears I cried that first sunset at the beach all alone, flipping back to all the events of the past week. How I wished everyone I loved could be sitting right there with me to see it.
And how the next night, E. turned to me and said, “Are you going to cry again?” And then I said, no and we laughed.

Finding that starfish on the shore and me feeling squeamish as a girl scooping enough sand around it so that I wouldn’t feel it move, and yet knowing I had to save it. Seeing the waves take it back…….

The feel of Lauryn’s hand in mine during Sesame Street live, what a gift when a child offers you a hand, it is something almost Holy. It means they trust you to keep them safe.

And everyday, God tells me to do the same. Live with my hand in His. And I do. It’s the best way I know how to live. Really, it’s the only way.

 Sometimes the benefits of time off remain long after you get back.

A life built around Him

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This was stuck on the bathroom mirror. It was on a card I sent them years ago, I guess my Mom couldn’t part with it……

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This is in the corner by the microwave, right by a drawing I made (also years ago). This prayer just about spells out their life. They go from dawn to dusk watching my special needs niece. They are fatigued in body and soul most every day, but their house is still a place of peace and refuge for many of their friends and family and there is always a fresh pot of coffee for whoever drops by.

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A reminder on the porch of who they serve……..and what He did for us all.

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My Mom’s bookshelf. My Dad has several and spilled to overflowing in several places in their house, but hers is tidy and organized.

I think it is very important to have reminders in your home. I have several pieces of art and knicknacks in my own home, but the ones that give special comfort are the ones that remind me of who He is and that He is near, always.

And the last one, written in my Dad’s own hand……posted on the kitchen cabinet.

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It’s always the lone bird that gets me

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This message was tacked on the cupboard in my parents’ kitchen, in my Dad’s writing. He is having a hard time right now. Macular degeneration is making reading difficult. He has always found solace in the written page, in books. It’s always been a big topic of our discussions. It’s hard trying to support your family from far away. I walk around with a certain amount of guilt on any given day. I don’t know anymore how it would be to live without it. I guess you can get used to anything, just like my Dad says you can get used to bad eyesight and hearing loss.

Vacation may be over, but I still hear the crashing of the waves, and the sound of those silly seals barking in the sun on that dock. I still feel the cool of the grass my niece insisted I lay in. I hesitated, knowing Tyler poops there, but as children will she insisted that I share the joy of the moment. And I did.

I had forgotten how the grass speaks if you listen. And it’s a language only children and God can hear and some adults who have not let go of the wonder.

I remembered how she clung to my hand during Sesame Street live, and how small my Mom felt when I  hugged her, not wanting to let her go, and going to breakfast with her and sharing a plate. And I smiled when I remembered my Dad and I cleaning the fish tank, spilling water and trying to scoop fish that didn’t want to be caught. And feeding my brother ice in the emergency room.

I wonder at the strange twists and turns of life, how all of a sudden the big brother can be the weak one you be the strong one.

It’s hard to fight for your family from a distance. Hard to help when miles stretch out long, between us but I try.

But I thank God that His arms are long and they reach far and wide.

So many times it’s not the grand chorus that does me in, but  the solo. The lone bird that sings, that one note ringing out when all else is silent. The one that insists that there is always hope because with God there always is. Everyone has stuff. But the key is knowing God has you and He won’t let you go.

God astounds me, because He knows when I need to know that He still has me.

He speaks in those quiet moments when we kneel in between life and everything else, when the bell tolls the hours that you may not even hear, but you can feel the weight of just the same. When we are feeling weak and crumpled and useless. And helpless.

He will never turn away from humility. “But He gives a greater grace. Therefore it says, “GOD IS OPPOSED TO THE PROUD, BUT GIVES GRACE TO THE HUMBLE.” James 4:6

For just a moment, I wanted to touch the last remaining embers of the time treasured. I wanted to hear the laughter, feel the peace, thank Him for the joy we felt, and how He was there with us all along.

As I sank to my knees, knowing there was not one thing I could do to hold time back, I touched Heaven instead.

It’s good to be home, and it will be good to go back next time. Until then, God keeps me. Keeps us all.

When the unexpected happens

The right time is now

It was supposed to be routine, but what happened wasn’t. My brother went in for a biopsy. The Doctor said some bleeding after the test was normal, not a major concern. We waited for news of how it went, and then I got the text. To come over alone. When I got there he was sitting on the edge of the bed looking for the Doctor’s number. Every number we called led to the medical group but not the office. I even googled it. Still same wrong number.

He said, in between trips to the bathroom….”I think I need to go back in.”

And because he lives close, I said I would run into town and go to the office myself and let them know he was coming back in. I ran home to pick up my Dad and he was already on alert, about to leave for my brother’s house himself. We drove crazy back to the office, where the confused girl at the desk said she would give the Doctor a head’s up that he was coming.

By the time we got back to my brother’s house, he could barely walk. There was no time for an ambulance. He stood up and almost passed out in the driveway. As we frantically adjusted the seats for him to fit in back, he kept calling out for us to hurry and I heard the panic in his voice. I stayed in back with him and Dad drove the short distance. 5 minutes felt like 30. I prayed we had time.

And that we wouldn’t get in an accident on the way.

The Doctor took one look at my brother’s ashen color and said, “I will meet you in the ER.” It was literally on the next street over. By the time we got there we were all scared and shaky, running on adrenaline. The attendant said, “Chair or gurney?”

And when he came around the back of the car with that chair that looked way too flimsy, I knew it wasn’t going to work. He was not a very big guy and my brother is. As we headed toward the door, me on one side and he on the other, he started to throw up, then he passed out cold.

It was then that everything started to get chaotic. It all felt surreal. I experienced how things can move fast but agonizingly slow at the same time. Nurses were giving orders right and left but no one was moving fast enough for us. I was still trying to hold him on the chair and so was the guy on the other side. I learned something that day though that I had always wondered about myself.

When it comes to someone I care about, I can do what I need to do.

I heard my own voice over and over, “We need help here, we need help here.”  I heard one of the nurses say, “We’re losing him.”

I thought, “This is how it happens, just how fast.”

I fished his medical cards out with shaky hands and my legs felt wobbly. Later, as we all sat in the waiting room, my Dad said it.

“Where was my prayer? I prayed for a good outcome with no complications.” He said.

I said, “God isn’t a Genie, sometimes He answers a different way, but He always answers.”  Then I thought of parents who pray for sick kids who don’t make it, and then I felt sanctimonious for saying it. “Sometimes, there just are no answers we can make sense of right now.”

I thought of how that morning it had all started so good. I thought of Lauryn as she came in smiling with the cake she made, and then all of a sudden none of us were there except my poor Mom and she was trying to pretend that everything was okay, trying not to scare her. She said later that it was one of the hardest things she ever had to do. And special needs kids have a kind of radar. They know when things are not right.

I thought of Lauryn losing her Daddy and how terrible it would be. She would not understand.

As soon as she could, her Mom came from her appointment and took over. She calmed her and us by sending photos from Funderland, one of her favorite places. But it was tinged with the unease of events that were still rolling by, better but still unsettled.

Family is the glue, that is what I kept thinking that whole day. And really, all of us are held together by our larger family, Gods.

Bind us together Lord, bind us together and bind us in Love. It’s what matters most when everything is going wrong.

My brother is okay, but awaiting results from the biopsy which is scary.

The Ocean sings a love song

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I don’t know why, but each time I come here I am moved to tears…..and yesterday when I plopped down in the sand and watched dogs playing and owners losing themselves in the moment it happened again.

Last night as I watched the sun dip into that vast ocean I wished that everyone I cared about could be right there with us. Tears flowed as everyone gathered with cameras and IPhones aimed at the horizon to watch what God does each and every night, and yet here it seems even more Holy.

The events of the last few days replayed again and I called my brother just to tell him I wished he was there to see the beauty. I just really wanted to hear his voice. I am thankful I still can.

This post is short…..WIFI keeps going in and out and really, it’s okay.

I have one more day here and I intend to savor each and every Holy moment.

The ocean has another love song to sing and God is singing too.

With every crash of the wave upon the shore…….

Another Texas Memory

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For those of you who didn’t read my last one, you can read it here. I have been capturing some memories for Elaine from when she spent summers in Texas visiting her Grandparents (and other relatives). I thought it would be fun to put myself squarely in the memory myself and write it as she remembers it. I got her Grandparents mixed up last time but this one is historically accurate. So here goes.

When my Grandaddy on my Mama’s side met Granny she already had five kids. Then they had 5 together and one died so that left 9 kids all together. After that he left the family and married another woman named Lou who lived in the same town. Needless to say his leaving the family sparked some very hard feelings all around from his kids, generations on down the line.

Lou had two kids of her own when they met and they had four more after they married. Sounds kinda one of those story problems we used to  get in math class.

All this happened before I was born. That’s a lot of emotional drama to be plunked down in the middle of, but the only thing I really remember about it was my Grandma telling me, “You better not be calling Lou, (or that woman) Grandma.”

To her credit, Lou accepted us Grandkids as her own and I always remember feeling welcomed at their house. She had a big square farmhouse kitchen and she really knew her way around it. We had many a meal around that big old table. Lou always fed us well.  

Their house wasn’t nearly as important as what lay around it to us kids though. In fact, if they had lived next to the Land of Oz it wouldn’t have been much more impressive to us as that big green vast wonderland that was the football stadium and the adjoining baseball park outside the back door.

My Grandad managed a semi-pro team so they lived right on the stadium grounds. Think, “Field of Dreams.”

To those of you who aren’t familiar with how important sports are in Texas, especially football, let me tell you, it is everything. Small towns like San Angelo were built and centered around football and baseball games. His training methods though, were a little unconventional. 

On many a bright summer day, I can still remember him saying, “C’mon Elaine, we are gonna lay some pipe today.” That meant training day for the team. I would ride on the back of the jeep while the guys he coached would run behind it. Then he would throw the pipe down as they went and they would lay it.

Sometimes they would drop from sheer exhaustion in the heat. I would say, “Grandad, he’s lying in the grass lookin’ up at the sky.” He would say, “Don’t worry, he’ll make it.” And we’d go onto the next place and drop the next guy off. On the way back around the field he’d go back and pick them up.  By then they would have staggered to their feet and reconvered enough for the next challenge.

All those guys had legs like tree trunks.

In those days athletes weren’t pampered, but we did consider them the celebrities of our town. Provided they survived Granddaddy’s training practices, that is.

Photo from public domain images