My Top 10 Christmas Moments of 2006

#10 Placing the Star

It has been the custom in our family for the youngest person to put the star on the top of the tree. Beau took over the job from his brothers when he was 2 or 3 and has done it ever since. The boys want no part of the decorating any more and Beau was heading out the door while I was putting the lights on the tree. He paused before he left to remind me to wait for him when it came to the star. Although he is 17 now he still insists that he gets to place the star at the top. We all become children again at Christmas.

#9 Christmas Eve Candlelight Service

We have gone to the 11:00 PM Christmas Eve worship service for at least twenty years. We spend Christmas Eve at with Angus' family in the city and leave there just in time to get to church. It is always a peaceful candlelight service with beautiful harp or violin music. One can’t help but feel God’s presence in that atmosphere of worship. We walk out and greet one another and we are closer because of what we have just experienced and everyone looks like a friend on that night. We hug and wish one another a happy Christmas and we mean it. There is love in the room that is palpable and real and warms me even as I walk to the car in the cold.

#8 Seeing Rita happy

My mother-in-law is not really a warm woman. She is a good mother and she loves, without doubt but there is always a sense of duty and perhaps a bit of martyrdom behind it. (Is that a Catholic thing?) I don’t think I have ever seen her truly happy. I’ve seen photos of her when she was young and she was a beauty and wild, too, she says. But she gave that all up for her husband and family, I guess.

Pat has only been gone less than 2 months and we were all worried about Christmas without him… but this Christmas, Rita was happy. Her family really came together during Pat’s illness and I know that is every mom’s dream. After Pat’s passing I know she had a sense of freedom, too. She loved Pat dearly but she was tied down by his health and was always at his side. I think she has a new outlook on life now. I think she feels she deserves to be happy… and you know what? She does.

#7 Car Caroling

When the boys were small we would sing Christmas carols the whole way to Gramma and Grampa’s house, taking turns choosing the song. Whenever it was Kevin's’s turn he would always choose “We 3 Kings” even though we had just sung it 5 songs before.

We aren’t always in one car on the way into town on Christmas Eve anymore. Often one or two of the kids meets us there, but this year all 5 of us were crammed into the Cherokee (after arguing over who had to sit in the middle of the back seat, of course). There was Christmas music on the radio and suddenly Kevin burst into song. His brothers quickly joined in. They were singing off key (on purpose) and in weird voices. Angus and I looked at each other and started laughing but we chimed in, too. It was all unexpected and wonderful… like most moments of pure joy.

#6 The Gift

Nathan came to me on Christmas Eve morning bearing a gift. He is one of the 5th graders in my Sunday School class. He wanted me to open it right then and I could see he was watching me for my reaction. It was a big Christmas coffee mug and a bag of hazelnut coffee. How thoughtful! I always come into class with my coffee in hand so he knew how much I like my morning coffee. He was truly pleased with his gift and so was I. I didn’t have to fake my pleasure and I told him I was going to go get coffee in it right then… and I did.

It was very thoughtful but the best part of his giving wasn’t the gift itself but the look on his face... the anticipation, as I opened it... his naked delight at seeing my pleasure. Now that is what gifting is all about.

#5 Spontaneous Outbreak of Christmas Charades

We were all sitting around after dinner on Christmas Eve when a spontaneous game of Christmas Charades broke out. Suggested by my 13 year old niece, we started writing Christmas songs, movies and books into a cup and busted it out. By the end of the evening just about everyone had joined in. Even Gramma took a turn! Suddenly, we weren’t just a bunch of relatives gathered, but truly a family.

#4 Santa at School

Santa made a surprise visit to the school where I work. He was pretty much wandering through the halls "ho-ho-ho"ing, handing out candy canes and just chatting with the kids. I was watching as a kindergarten class noticed him. They were so excited! Some were talking to him, hugging him and asking him questions. Then I noticed Levi. He was just gazing up at Santa. I don’t think I will ever forget the look on his face. It was one of pure and simple joy and amazement. He was awestruck!

I am so glad I happened to witness that very moment. I saw “Christmas” on Levi’s face, or at least a symbol of what it should be… a sense of joy and wonder at the gift that is Christmas.

#3 The Hayride

I was only one week before Christmas and the place we usually cut our Christmas tree had already closed for the season. We hadn’t been to the Schmidt’s Farm in years, too crowded and too expensive, but it was open and we needed a our tree. We pulled into the lot and the place was nearly deserted except for the workers that watched us pull in.

The old man on the tractor was friendly as we chose a saw and climbed onto the haywagon . He drove us to the grove of Christmas trees and pointed us to the best trees. The boys were cutting up, kidding one another, laughing and enjoying one another. We jumped out and cut a beautiful, fine tree.
The air was crisp and piney as we headed back to the barn. I sat on a hay bale holding Angus’ hand across from my happy, laughing sons riding in a wagon on a dirt path through the silent woods. All of the stress of the season fell away from my shoulders. I couldn’t have been happier.

#2 Sharing Christmas Dinner with the Homeless

Several months ago our church started a homeless outreach program after several of us read the book “Under the Overpass” by Mike Yankoski. Angus has been has been heavily involved with that mission work. They’ve been taking food and supplies into the city every Sunday after church to a group that has grown from 3 to about 12 living in the woods near a railroad bridge in the city. They have developed a rapport with many of them and invited them to worship with us on Christmas Eve morning. Three of them took up the offer.

They were well received and warmly welcomed. They praised God and worshiped right beside us. Someone at the worship service even asked Cathy to pass on a $100 bill to each of the three.

After Worship, our families joined Whiskey, Marvin and Paula for Christmas dinner. It was my first time to meet these people that my husband had come to know and care about. We chatted and they talked about their enjoyment, especially of the music, and of other church services that two of them had attended regularly in San Antone last year before they came to Kansas City. Our group had bought Christmas presents for all of them, specifically chosen for each of them (and for those that didn’t come, as well). There were tarps, and sleeping bags and back packs and blankets and buckets and flashlights. I felt moved and blessed to have been a part of it all.

#1 Christmas Came

In some ways I think I am like the Grinch. I don’t hate Christmas but I hate what it has become… I hate that I am a reluctant participant in the “Christmas Machine”. I try to make it happen in a certain way and I try to manipulate the ones around me into making everything special and memorable. They balk or simply will not comply. There is tension. I want to simplify it but I complicate it by trying to schedule it all. The season is short and if we are going to fit it all in it takes good planning!

This year I just did not do it. I usually feel compelled to create memories and uphold traditions. You’d think that by now I’d realize that traditions are useless if they hold no meaning. You’d think I’d know that memories can only happen naturally. It is moments; unplanned and unanticipated moments, that create memories. This year I didn’t try to remake Christmas into my ideal of what it should be; I just let it happen naturally… and it came.

It came in a simple beautiful, memorable, peaceful way. Like Levi gazing into Santa’s face, I want react to Christmas, the amazing gift of our savior come to us, with pure joy and wonder and love shining out of my heart for all to share.

My mother made this Nativity and gave it to us the year our first child was born...the year we became a family. My dad made the stable and built a little music box within. It plays it Silent Night.

I didn't take the time to get out my many Santas and jingle bells or garland this year, but the Nativity is too great a symbol of Christmas to forget. It was the first thing I put out, the only thing out for the first 2 weeks of Advent.

I think that is appropriate. It kind of gave us a focus away from the sparkle and glitz.

I felt like Jack looking out from a stem of his beanstalk...all up in the air and surrounded by a cloud. I had just awakened and went to the window just like I do most mornings....thanking God for the day ahead and asking his guidance. I love this window view. It's as if I have the most wonderful painting and it is always changing, surprising me with something new or something I had not noticed before.

Today it was the fog. It was a wispy fog, hence the feeling of being in a cloud. I felt light and happy. Here it is just a few days before Christmas and I had hardly given it a thought. I had done just the minimal Christmas gifting and baking and only when "required" for work or for church. I hadn't made a Christmas list or decorated or even put the tree up.

I had been busy with something else that was consuming all my time and thoughts and energy. It was somthing important that needed to be planned and carried out and done right. I was taking care of that stuff and meeting with other people working on that project. Angus was understanding and the boys were tolerant. They knew this was a labor of love for me...not something I had to do but something I wanted to do. But it was wearing me down, I think.

Anyway, last night the event took place and ended in a beautiful worship service. Now I am on to Christmas and I suddenly feel happy and lifted up. It's as if I missed all the Christmas "have to" stuff and found out that, hey, guess what? it's not really "have to" stuff after all. I didn't have to get the house decorated right after Thanksgiving and I didn't have to get the tree up or bake cookies or shop, shop, shop. Christmas is still coming even without that and I feel good about it. This has been the least commercial, least secularish Christmas season.

I think we actually stopped the Christmas machine!

Something about waking up in a cloud made me feel nearer to God and that is how I have felt ever since. I have not explained it very well. I guess, I just didn't let the pressure (mostly self-imposed) that usually goes along with Christmas get to me. I was just too busy to notice that it was approaching, put it at the back of my mind, still participating in what I thought was important and just blowing off the rest of it. Life is good!

I "claim" Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. I remember the days when our kids were little and we tried to get to Angus' family and mine since they both live in the same city. It was awful. We were stuffed til we ached and traveling and tired and miserable. We didn't enjoy it or feel grateful. We felt obligated. We did it because we love our families and are grateful for them but we didn't do them or Thanksgiving or God justice by trying to to it all. Isn't that the way it is so often in life?

I have told my 4 sons that I wish to claim Thanksgiving as ours even if it means we will have to give up having them at Christmas. I know that as they marry and move on their return home for holidays will become a time of decisions. I hope they will choose to be with us on Thanksgiving but I will not want them to try to do it all. I'd rather they love us and God and recognize all they've been given no matter where they are or what they are doing.

I want them to know that our focus for Thanksgiving is to be grateful to God for all that he has given every single day. My kids are a huge part of what makes me so thankful for life, but there is so much more.

This morning I read Keith Brenton's Thanksliving weblog and he says it better than I:

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. It isn't the food. It isn't the football games. It isn't even the gathering of family (when we can). There's just something inside that wants Thanksgiving to be a year-round, 24/7 thing. I want it to be an ongoing holiday. A moveable feast of gratitude. A lifestyle.

Thanksliving.


Amen, Keith. Amen.

My mowing days pretty much ended when CJ became old enough to take over that job. By then he had 3 younger brothers and I had no time for that chore. Now the big ol' zero turning radius riding mower (man toy) we have is so complicated I don't even have a clue how to run it. It doesn't even have a steering wheel!

Most of our property is wooded or the field but just about every bit of the grassed area is shaded by the many trees we have. I have told Angus that I hope by the time we are elderly we will have so many trees that it appears we live in the middle of a forest. He usually replies with a grumbly "humph" because he and the boys are the ones that have to mow around all those scores of trees. They've killed plenty of them by stripping a circle of bark from the base of the tree as they mow around it but eventually I just plant another one in its place.

So...one day we will be living in the woods and no one will have to mow but for now we rake wherever the leaves lay thick, just to keep them from killing the grass beneath. Yesterday I sent the boys out to do that chore. I had raked a few days earlier so there were a dozen big piles already that needed to be moved to the compost pile.

They grumbled a bit and stalled some ("where are the rakes") but went on out to finish the work. Twenty minutes later I looked out the window to check their progress... just in time to see my 23 year old son flip himself into a pile of leaves. I watched as he and my 17 year old son took a few more jumps before they went back to raking the rest of the yard.

They worked together wonderfully and had obviously worked out a routine. They had found a tarp and drug it around to the many piles of leaves that by now were dotted all over the yard. They raked a pile onto the tarp then drug it to the next one until it was heaped high with the leaves. They dragged the heavy load to my big compost pile and then flipped it all into the pile. Making sure to jump on it a few times "to pack it down" they later told me. ...Right.

It was such a beautiful sight for a mother to see her nearly-grown sons working together, playing together and making the best of life. When they were younger I sometimes wondered if they will ever get along, if they will ever be responsible, if they will ever "act their age". They have always gotten along pretty well but they didn't always enjoy each other's company. Now they do.

So, young parents, Take Heart! All the hard work involved in making the kids do chores when it is easier to do it yourself will eventually pay off. Some day the kids will like each other. They will eventually become the fine young adults that you prayed they would... well, maybe not that perfect but they will come into their own. Have hope... and keep praying.

PS~ I also got to witness a rake handle sword fight and a cell phone thrown into a pile of leaves as a find-the-needle-in-the-haystack and a little brother chase a big brother around a tree. I am still waiting for the "act your age" thing to kick in. ☻

I had a dream last night. AJ is the 6 year old son of my boss. He comes by my desk every morning on his way to his dad’s office and he always pauses to say “Hi”. After school he’s back again. He bursts into the office to tell me where he will be until his Dad is ready to leave. He likes to feed my fish.

In my dream, AJ came to me and told me that he was hurt. I could tell he wasn’t really hurt. It was that kind of hurt where a Mom can kiss it away and I began to explain that to him. I told him how if someone that cared about him would rub it or kiss it or do some other kind of Mommy-magic on his “wound” he would totally forget about the pain. I talked on and on and explained it all to this little child who had come to me with his injury. Then I woke up.

My first thought was “Why hadn’t I just shown him I cared and given him a hug?" I yammered away at him and all he really needed was to know that someone cared and loved him. Love is a verb. ♥

Is that what I do? Do I just talk at people saying pretty things and giving unsolicited advice when all they need is a little love? Is God trying to tell me something? ♥

As I drove to work I thought about the people that have really been there for us lately. Two weeks ago when my father-in-law died it was not a surprise. We have a large family and we gathered immediately. People who knew about wanted to help us. I couldn’t think of anything we needed and said so, but that did not stop people from helping anyway. ♥

Food from our church family was taken into the city and food was brought to our house, too. Flowers were sent and donations made to Hospice. Friends made the trek into the city for the visitation or the funeral. We didn’t really expect that. ♥

Zeke’s ex-girlfriend let him borrow her car so that we wouldn’t have to make the 6 hours drive up to retrieve him. She didn’t have to do it, we didn’t expect her to but she did it anyway. ♥

Every day we get cards in the mail still. An acquaintance brought a basket of muffins on Monday. Today a friend sent another meal, telling me she remembers when her Gramma passed away that it was hard a couple of weeks after when things had settled down and she thought we would need to get together again. I think she is right. ♥

Some nice, well-meaning people have said “I’ll pray for you” but I don’t think they really will. It’s just something nice to say. Am I like that? Do I say “I’ll pray” and then promptly forget about it? Am I too busy to give of myself when needed?

We could have done without the food and the flowers and the cards but the genuine love that moved the giver to action... that we needed! The hugs and prayers… those we needed. ♥

Love is a verb. Yes, it is.
♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

You knew death was coming and you tried to prepare… but somehow making those decisions while he was still living seemed callous and scared you both… as if to put it off would put off the inevitable that the doctors, for months now, said could happen at any time. “The heart is just worn out” they said. If you thought about it too much or planned for it, might that hasten it somehow? No! Don’t think about it!

Cemetery plots and head stones and funeral homes and lost pensions (he died a day too soon) and the loss of your own social security checks. And do you want a limousine and little memory cards and laminated obituaries? How many people will come and how do we get them here? Hotel rooms or house guests? The airline tickets... the gasoline expense... who will go get them? Lost work time and lost class time and food, food, food for all of the very large family and the many guests. The fee for the church and a stipend for the priest and the singers and the organist and the printing of the funeral order of service. The photos and enlargements and photo frames and the mourning clothes for family; the black suits and ties and belts and shoes for the pall bearers . Thank you notes and postage and … and … and... there is always one more thing to decide, something to pay for, something pressing.

You thought you were prepared, but you had no idea… all the little incidental expenses… All the things to think about when your brain is still numb. Important decisions that must be made with no time to think. Decisions that do not seem important at all but still must also be made. All of these years your role has been the caregiver, the advice giver for all and you are still trying... but you are so tired.

All of the decisions and expenses do not fall to you but you are aware of them and feel burdened by it. You understand that others who care about you have taken on an added burden to keep the weight from you. They are hurting too and you know this but you let them help you because your heart is heavy and your hands are heavy and your mind is dull. You are coping from day to day, from minute to minute.

You are vaguely aware of all the busyness around you. You are in the midst of it but feel as if everyone is a blur around you and you sit alone. You feel alone with all the people around you. Your children and grandchildren are here by your side every minute but he isn’t here. You feel so alone and you say so. We all stop in mid-sentence, in mid-step, and pause. We are stunned. Suddenly we recognize the truth in your words and we weep in our hearts. We know it is true and that our arms around you and our words of love cannot replace those of the man who was at your side for 60 years.

It is as if you are being pummeled when you have already fallen to your knees and begged for mercy. Your friends and family are here in the circle with you trying to hold back the beating, taking many of the blows, but it is not enough. You will have to gather your strength… You will look over and see God in your corner and it will give you hope and you will rise to your feet again. We will cheer and hold you up and the weight will be shared by all of us. You will realize, we will realize, that together we can endure it.

My father-in-law died at home on Halloween. He was surrounded by loved ones and went peacefully. A few observations and more later when my head is clearer:

1) If you call a funeral home on Halloween and ask them to come get the body they think it is a Halloween prank.

2) You never really know how much you are loved until you are gone.

3) When you think you can't hold up, you can... if there are enough caring people around you to hold you up.

4) Those caring people always show up supporting you in small ways that you never thought were important, but they are. The smallest acts of kindness are magnified.

5) Laughter is great medicine.

6) It is very expensive to die in the USA.

7) Cardiac Hospice Care is a beautiful thing.

The glow from the rising sun reflecting on the bright orange and yellow Maple leaves actually hurts my eyes in the mornings these days. It is kind of shocking but in a wonderful way. The walls opposite the windows have look as if they are painted a pale orange but they are just tan. One wouldn't think it possible but, honestly, the colors are so vibrant and the light so strong that it literally hurts my eyes to look at them! ...and yet I cannot stop myself from gazing at them. There are so many different colors ranging from plain old green to brick red with everything brilliant in between; lime green, mustard yellow, lemon yellow, melon, salmon, chartreuse, red, magenta...and more...so many more colors. My artistic mind wants a name for every blend of green/yellow, yellow/orange I don't have the color-vocabulary to define them. The contrast with the near-black branches adds to the beauty. It is breathtaking.

Suddenly it occurs to me that ..God is an artist! a creator of beauty for pure enjoyment, his and mine. He has given me this lovely creation outside my bedroom window. I start my autumn days knowing God is real and he is here.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

God painted last fall, too, but I didn't notice it 'til night. Sometimes it's not with my eyes that I see his creations. Does God give us these gifts of beauty because we need them or do we just notice them when we need them? Either way, I praise the God that created life and love and hope. amen.

Andy was home from college for Mid-Term break and asked if he could talk at the Wednesday night worship. Andy has opened his heart to this group of Jr and Sr High school students before and is well-loved and respected among them. I blogged about that very special night . I hope you caught that one.

He rose to speak. Andy is popular and well liked but apparently it wasn't always so. He began by telling the kids what he was like in Junior High. He had been an angry young man. He was defensive. He struggled with his life and even made a suicide attempt. He was in high school by the time he moved to Kearney and he felt accepted right away. I don’t know where he lived before or why his family moved here but they did. He found a fresh start here.

His life here was good. People liked him and he became one of the popular kids while he lived his faith out loud. It was well known that he was a Christian. He was elected Homecoming King by the vote of his peers. Kids wanted to hang out with him. He had the kind of countenance that pulled people to him…kind and nonjudgmental.

Underneath his outward happiness though he struggled with the thoughts that he was not worthy of all his peer admiration. He also had to resist the temptation to believe all the wonderful things that were said about him. He knew he was a sinner. He said it is hard when everyone is telling you how great you are all the time. You have to be careful with that kind of input. You have to walk a fine line. It’s hard work.

He graduated and went to college and guess what. No one was feeding him those wonderful words anymore. No one thought he was a great kid, no one even noticed him anymore. He was nothing. No one cared. What a shock! He had been getting his human strokes all along and suddenly that well went dry.

He said he started reverting to his old Jr. High thoughts. All the anger and resentment came flooding back. He was overwhelmed, as college freshman often are.

One day he noticed that between classes all the kids were in their own little worlds, with head phones on or their cell phones stuck to ears. He decided to use the time as a time for prayer and conversation with God. He began to recover… refocus… renew.

The kids listened quietly as Andy spoke. He was kind of rambling, confiding things that were surprising and disturbing and finally uplifting. There was much for them to think about. I am sure it never occurs to most of them that popular kids struggle, worry and hurt, too. Could this good-looking, kind and funny young man ever have hurt enough to want to end his life? Could this spiritual and confident guy ever be angry at the world…at God? Are we all vulnerable to these feelings? How can we get through it? How can God help us?

Andy didn’t really have answers other than sometimes you just have to turn to God and trust him. Keep your eyes upon Jesus in all situations and never doubt what he can do for you if you believe! Life isn’t easy for anyone. We all struggle with our own demons. It was an important “heads up”.

Matthew 14:22-31

The 30 Hour Famine is over. Everyone survived it and I heard no complaining this time! The kids were focused and very, very busy. We kept our minds off of our empty bellies. Our kids live in an affluent community where the kids seldom go longer than 2 or 3 hours without a snack, a stop at Sonic or the Quik Mart. 30 hours seemed like an eternity to many of them. They were encouraged, when they were feeling hungry to say aloud "God is good" as a reminder that God has given them soooo much. Those nearby are to respond with "All the time" to let them feel a little moral support. They understood that this is about awareness and learning and raising funds for World Vision's hunger relief programs. They raised over $4,000.

The fundraising was kicked off Saturday night by a Rally at the local park. Free popcorn and music. They pulled together a band that played wonderfully and did two skits as well as a very moving clip from the World Vision promo DVD.

Thursday morning the "famine" began. Around 40 kids from ages 11 to 18 were divided up into tribes for the many activities. Some of them were also given a "disability" that one might have when suffering from hunger. Some wore heavy backpacks to signify the extra burden when one is weak from true hunger and malnourishment. They spent several hours building shelters from mud huts and thatch huts to carboard boxes, to shelters made from plastic and scrap wood scavenged from dumpsters and work sites. They collected canned goods door to door for the Food Pantry and there were many other opportunities for serving. There was a Bible study and lots of games that focused on understanding what those living in Africa might be going through. They had time to journal after each activity.

One group went to Hillside Ministries which provides housing and budget counseling for 90 days for homeless people that have jobs, while they get back on their feet. They did odd jobs such as rake leaves, weeding, trimming and setting up a new swing set.

A group went to the Harvesters warehouse and helped there. They were amazed by the volume of food provided to the hungry right in Kansas City. Another group went to Feed the Need and sorted though mountains of used clothing. Several kids went to the Good Samaritan Center and painted their basement.

The group that most came back with the most stories was the one that went to reStart downtown. It was a daytime homeless shelter. People were coming and going...homeless people. Lots of men but some women and children and families. Some of the kids were a bit afraid, some were uncomfortable, they had never seen homeless people in real life. Someone asked them if they had any socks. It was enlightening indeed.

All of the groups had their eyes opened. They are not often exposed to people who are truly in deep need. It was good for all of us. It made us more compassionate. It made us truly count our own blessings. It made us recognize the responsibility that comes with our many gifts.

As the end grew near they participated in a beautiful Praise Worship service. They laid their "burdens" (disability) at the foot of the cross. The heavy backpacks and blindfolds and leg slplints were piled there as each child recognized what God can do and what we can do through God. The service ended with communion.

A feast was provided by church members for the kids to break the fast. Food never tasted so good. Part of that feeling was, well, we were hungry, but we were also gratefully aware of the fact that we were feasting while others are starving.

The 911 call came in... a domestic violence call. The officer pulled up to the house just as a little red car quickly pulled out. The officer followed and it was soon apparent that the car was fleeing, so the officer gave chase. Out through the North side of town they sped, through the winding rural roads and through the local State Park. They exited the park at high speeds right onto the road where it would all end...the road I live on. My road. For twelve minutes it was all a fun car chase.

They exited the park and came out onto a straight away. The little red car gathered speed as it raced toward the state highway with the police car in pursuit. It flew across the highway without stopping at the stop sign. The people in the red pickup truck never saw what hit them...in fact they never saw anything again on this earth.

The wreckage was horrific...the Pickup split in two pieces. The little red car? All that was left was red vehicle debris; truck and car all mingled into a mangled mess. Four lives ended instantly that day. So many more lives were forever changed: The families and coworkers of the dead. The woman who made that original 911 call. The witnesses to the crash and those that came to rescue the unrescuable. Those that came upon the wreckage realizing...it could have been them if the timing had been just a few minutes later. The officer who himself was devastated by what happened. He had followed policy but had he done the right thing?

Four small town communities all agonized over the senselessness of it all: the town nearest where the wreck occured, the town where the 911 call originated (my town), the town where the people in the truck were employeed (heading back to work after a job), the town where the young men in the red car lived (the driver had several outstanding traffic violations).

The big city sent up its' news reporter'd to add to the controversy and hurt. The police cruiser's video cam recorded it all and the crash was seen by all on the local news and on the internet.

There is lots of anger, lots of fingerpointing, lots of guilt, lots of pain. There is sorrow, there is remorse, there is blame, there is fear. There are so many questions... so many "whys?" that can't be answered by anyone.

It is definitely a wake up call in so many ways. There are people that blame God when bad stuff happens and there are those who turn to God in the same circumstance. There are lots of people that think that this kind of thing is God's plan but I know God let's us all make choices...even bad ones. I know his plan for us can be messed up by bad choices, even the bad choices of other people.

Yes, he could intervene on our behalf and prevent the bad stuff. I know that he does this sometimes and sometimes he doesn't. I believe that God knows better than we do about what is best. I don't know why that is. Sometimes that is hard to take, though.

I also know that God makes something good out of every bad thing, but we might be in too deeply into our pain to see it. It may not be possible to be seen from where we are. The benefit may be somewhere else to someone else. We have to trust.

Only one sports team can win the game but both believe they should win. The loser can say "I should have won" and be bitter and blame the coach or the ref or the sun in his eyes or the wind or the injuries or they can learn from the loss and move on and work harder and be better and be stronger. The next time they can win even with the sun in their eyes and the wind in their face and a bad call by the ref.

We hate wake up calls but we need them. It takes us off of automatic, at least for awhile. It stops us taking life for granted. It makes us value our time here and love better and live better and do more good. We need wake up calls. Don't hit that snooze button. Wake up!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

James 4:14-17
You don't even know what your life tomorrow will be! You are like a puff of smoke, which appears for a moment and then disappears. What you should say is this: "If the Lord is willing, we will live and do this or that." But now you are proud, and you boast; all such boasting is wrong. So then, if we do not do the good we know we should do, we are guilty of sin.

Our Wedding Day

Our anniversary
August 26th, 1976, was a typical hot August day that brewed up a thunderstorm. Looking back I think how appropriate that beginning was, indicative of the what happens when you bring together two people who are so very different. We started out hot, then things got stormy then it all settled down when we finally focused on each other.

I was worried about the rain. My little sister finally quit trying to light the candles with all the wind blowing and the guitar music my sister-in-law so lovingly strummed was totally lost on the wind. The minister's hair was blowing straight up and I could see the lightning approaching in the distance behind him.
But then Angus took my hand in his and began to gently slide the handmade wedding ring onto my finger. It resisted but he gently and steadily worked it on as he gazed into my eyes. I forgot everything else and I couldn't take my eyes away from his.

It's been a wild ride for sure, sometimes bumpy, sometimes smooth. Up and down and winding all around. Sometimes I think about what it would be like to get off but I never, ever open that door.

Today I came home from a meeting and I was hungry, digging in the fridge for something to eat. He offered to make me his hashbrown and egg skillet meal. He didn't have to. He wasn't hungry and the kids weren't around. He did it just for me. He speaks his love for me in his actions. Sometimes...usually, I don't even notice. But tonight I was listening.

I've learned that it is always better to pay attention but it's not always easy. The lessons continue... hopefully for another 28 years.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

{A year ago... my similar thoughts}

Onikah came to me after Youth Worship last night. “I have to tell you something.“ she said excitedly. Last week I had told the kids about my “hearing God” experience and she had recently had a similar one.

She had been driving home from her job at McDonald’s, still in her uniform and tired. Her old car had been acting up so she left the radio off so that she could listen for any funny sounds it might be making. Her mind was not distracted. She happened to drive by a friend’s house, a friend she hadn’t seen in months.

Suddenly she was filled with the thought that she should go back and visit her friend. She hesitated, wanting only to go home, but the feeling was too strong to deny and she turned her car around and drove back to Susan’s.

When she arrived she found her friend in a true state of distress. Susan had found her horse with hisr leg swelled to twice its’ normal size. She had run her hand along the leg and found a puncture wound that was deeply infected. She had some instruction from her vet on what to do but was uncertain and worried.

She ran to Onikah with true gratefulness. Onikah had spent the summer working at a horse ranch in Montana and knew exactly what to do. She calmly and confidently helped Susan through process and advised her how to continue the treatment.

Onikah listened to his whisper and let God lead her. Are you listening for it?

It was September 11, 2001 and I had the day off. I rarely watch daytime TV but I flipped the TV on to watch country music videos, thinking it would make the mundane job of sorting the laundry a bit more pleasant. I sat cross legged on the floor with piles of clothing stacked in a semicircle around me. Suddenly a newscaster broke into CMT. There was footage of the North Tower smoking in New York City, an expanation of how an aircraft had hit the tower. I switched to a local station and then to CNN. It all enfolded so rapidly before my eyes. It was on every channel and I couldn’t get enough info. Could it be real? The hardcore, always calm national newscasters on every channel were in disbelief, in shock, visibly upset themselves. Some could barely contain their own composure. I felt so alone. My husband called to see if I had heard. I told him what I knew.

And then… life went on for me. Here in the middle of the Midwest, New York City is but a fairy tale. The only thing most of us know of New York City is learned from TV sitcoms and drama series and that lifestyle is as far from our lives as that of someone from Germany or Japan. We know it’s there but it is almost beyond comprehension. I had never even heard of the Twin Towers before that day.

Our brand new great big hot tub had just been delivered the day before. We had dreamed of having one for years but they seemed so expensive so extravagant. We drive used cars and we drive them ’til they fall apart but we had decided that we wanted this one luxury while our kids were still at home to enjoy it. We had done our homework and purchased a big, fine Sundance Spa that would last. So on this day, September 11th, the electrician had come to do the final installation. I filled it with water and let it heat up. But I could feel no joy. All I could think of were all those people who had lost their lives and the horror of it.

Later that night Angus and I soaked in the warmth of it under a perfect clear sky. We were quiet. Both of us lost in our own thoughts. I was happy. I was sad. I was mixed up. I let the water caress me in my sorrow and I felt guilt… for not even knowing one person in New York City or Washington, DC … for living in an insulated world …for enjoying life …for having life.

I looked up at those millions of stars in the blackness up above and I knew. God was out there. Each star was like a pinpoint of hope for with God when there is nothing else left, there is always hope. And I prayed and prayed and prayed.

September 11, 2006
A Memorial

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A teen remembers... a child then
Running
Stepping over things he shouldn't see
Running
His mother's hand... the firefighters
Running
He looked back... the cloud coming at them
Haunted
"I got to live...thousands of others didn't"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


The starkness of the reflecting pool
isolated on the huge concrete landscape
A lone wreath
floats there

The black river of people flowing slowly, slowly
Wanting to pull away
from the memory but
drawn toward it

A single rose dropped into the pool,
a memory dropped in the water
a loved one,
a life

The litany of names over the loud speaker goes
on and on and on
Name after name after name.
Could there be that many?

The line of people trails past the pool each pausing
for a moment
More flowers drop,
more names spoken

A mound of fragrant roses
piled high
A tower of
endless love

The names being read
go on and on and on
and...
life goes on
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A firefighter was trapped that day
and prayed
He felt God's presence
in that dark hole
Escaped death that day
but more,
Gained life
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Flags at half staff
Haunting music
Flowers floating
in a reflecting pool
People in sorrow gathered
to find communion

Find rest O my soul
For God is our refuge
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

An Interview

He was off duty but went back
They'd need his 20 years of
experience. It meant nothing
He wasn't prepared
for this. They went in
Knowing they might not come back

How could you do it? he was asked
How could you not? he replied
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

An Interview

She was there
She made it out
Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome
Lost her job
Lost her home

Survivor's guilt
She couldn't work
She couldn't mother
A distant relative took her family in
That's love

Pity
Anger
Pain
Guilt
She let it go

I want to live and love
As hard as I can
I want to take
That extra step

Faith was her salvation
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Floating down like snow
Piles of paper everywhere
Scattering like leaves at
The running feet of hundreds

Paper everywhere
That only the day before
Had seemed to be
So important
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Never Forget.

I heard the still, small voice of God Tuesday evening. I admit that I am not in the habit of listening for God, hence I don’t hear him often. It usually takes a lot to get my attention in my busy little bubble.

Adjusting from being home all summer taking it easy, doing what needs to be done, relaxing and reading and writing, spending time with loved ones and friends to the hectic, crazy, every-day-is-a-new-dilemma world of an elementary school’s first month. It’s put out little fires all day and filling other people’s needs. It’s not rocket science and the days fly by but it is an about-face from the lazy days of summer and it takes its toll.

So when Beau came home from school Tuesday and wondered if I was planning on coming to his soccer game, I quickly went through my mental calendar of the week. Wednesday, Youth Bible Study and Worship. Thursday, important meeting of the Youth Council. Friday, dinner date. I had only been home a few minutes myself and had thrown in the first load of laundry that I usually get done on Mondays.

“Probably not,” I informed him. “I’ll come to your home game though, next Thursday.” He was fine with that. The youngest of four brothers, he is used to all of us working around each other’s schedules. He headed out and I sat down for a little quiet time and dinner alone. No TV, no music, no computer no one else home, no one demanding my time and attention. Just quiet…ahhhhhhhhhhh. Peace, at last. That’s when I heard the voice in my head “You really ought to go”. What in the world? It’s no big deal, Beau doesn’t care. He doesn‘t really play soccer as much as he plays at soccer. He loves the fun of it but doesn‘t take it seriously like most guys that play sports…. I flipped through a catalog as I ate but it came back to me again. “You need to go.” Why?… I couldn’t come up with a reason… I threw the first load of clothes into the dryer and started another load washing. “Just GO.” Suddenly it occurred to me that maybe this in-my-head voice was God. Was this what the still, small voice sounds like? Maybe there really was some reason I needed to be there. What did I have to lose by going? Nothing really except a little quiet time and some undone laundry.

I changed out of my work clothes and went. I was heading toward town wondering why I “needed” to go. Was Bo going to be hurt? Was he going to make a great play? Or was it just that I would have passed up on an opportunity to spend time with my son in the last couple of years he’d still be at home? I didn’t need to know the why of it. I was going because I was moved to.

As I passed our church on the way out of town I noticed the pastor’s pick-up in the parking lot, and there was the youth director’s van and Linda’s RV and a few other vehicles. Hmmm, I wondered what was going on at the church on a Tuesday evening? I drove on by and it occurred to me that all of those folks were a part of the Youth Council committee. “Go back”…. but the meeting was Thursday. Wasn’t it?… I turned around and went back…. What if it wasn’t that meeting? Would I walk in on something else? How embarrassing!… I went in and found the meeting, recognized the group and apologized for being late. “You’re fine. We were just getting ready to start with prayer.“

It was a very important meeting that the Youth Pastor had expressly asked me to there for several weeks earlier when the meeting was being planned. One in which my presence was appreciated and needed. And I was there because I followed God’s urging.

If only it were always so easy.

1Kings 19:12

Thinking out loud about “Sweetly Broken“. I have been contemplating the phrase and what it means to me. Compared to many, I have led an easy life so far. Honestly, I don’t think there are many folks who reach my ripe age without having suffered greatly at some point. And yet, I never have. I’ve never been jilted, Never been ridiculed to the point of misery, Never been fired. Never survived a fire or flood or tornado or other catastrophe. Never been damaged by abuse or neglect, I have never suffered from a horrible illness or injury nor have any of my loved ones…and I have many loved ones. My loved ones are all alive and well. I’ve never walked through “the fire”… therefore I sometimes wonder if I will melt when the time comes. Or has God been preparing me all these years for the inevitable? Is he readying me? Growing me spiritually so that I will be able to endure? Or just survive? ...or flourish?

I teach Junior High kids about the Bible. I hold them through their losses and their teen agonies. They have acne and they aren’t skinny enough and they don’t make the team. Their grandparents die and their dogs get hit by cars and their parents divorce. I tell them God is with them always, God will never abandon them, God will get them through anything. I tell them to rely on him… to trust him. I tell them there is always good, somehow, someway in all things. When others abandon…there is always His love. God is there through it, right there with us. And they believe!

They are so innocent and hope filled and I am, too. A true child of God. Just like them, never really tested. And I don’t want to be tested. I’m afraid. Will I fail? Will I be the one who turns away from God when I need him most? Will I blame him when I hurt to the bone, or ache with loneliness or crumble with sorrow? Will I still love him? Is my faith deep enough, strong enough?

I want so much to feel him right next to me, to be close enough to feel his breath on me. I love him and trust him and know him to be true but I am not close enough to him and I know it. There is a yearning within me for God to hold me and show me the path he wants me to take. And I wonder if others feel this way. And I wonder if one has to be broken to ever feel really close to God. And I wonder if that is why I know that he is beside me, I believe he is with me… but I don't feel Him.

People who are “sweetly broken” have needed God so much, have been so hurt so beaten up and broken that they could not have survived without God’s healing touch. They feel God, don’t they? They know Jesus' suffering. They truly recognize it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Have you heard this amazing song, sung by Jeremy Riddle? The words are below but the melody and Jeremy’s voice are needed to really feel the pain and purity and hope within the song. I believe he means what he is singing.


Sweetly Broken
Jeremy Riddle ~ From the album Sweetly Broken

To the cross I look,
To the cross I cling
Of its suffering I do drink
Of its work I do sing

On it my Savior
Both bruised and crushed
Showed that God is love
And God is just

At the cross You beckon me
You draw me gently to my knees, and I am
Lost for words, so lost in love, I’m
Sweetly broken, wholly surrendered

What a priceless gift,
Undeserved life
Have I been given
Through Christ crucified

You’ve called me out of death
You’ve called me into life
And I was under Your wrath
Now through the cross I’m reconciled

At the cross You beckon me
You draw me gently to my knees,
And I am lost for words, so lost in love,
I’m sweetly broken, wholly surrendered

In awe of the cross I must confess
How wondrous Your redeeming love and
How great is Your faithfulness

At the cross You beckon me.
Draw me gently to my knees, and I am
Lost for words, so lost in love, I am
Sweetly broken,
Wholly surrendered
Broken For You

The cars and trucks roared by as we cautiously exited the Jeep. Angus had quickly pulled off onto the shoulder near the concrete barrier of the center lanes. There had been too much traffic to try to get clear over to the shoulder in the right lane when the tire blew. We’d been on our way to the North Shore of Minnesota and hadn’t even made it through Des Moines yet!

The flat tire was on the traffic side of the car. The heat off the highway in the near 100° heat, the power and nearness of the passing vehicles, the whoosh of the wind that they generated, all left me feeling a bit fearful and helpless. Angus was calm and quiet. He gets that way when things are beyond his control and he is just trying to control his emotions. I threw up a quick prayer for our safety and we got to work.

We began pulling all of our gear out of the Jeep. The jack stores under the back seat and the tire, above the wheel well so we unloaded coolers and sleeping bags and fishing gear onto the shoulder, shoving the bags and equipment around to get to the needed items.

Before Angus had even gotten the spare out of the back I noticed flashing lights and a police officer walking toward our disabled vehicle. Immediately flow of traffic moved out of the passing lane and away from us. I was so grateful to see him and I told him so! He was very young, still pimply faced behind his mirrored sunglasses. Vince went about changing the tire and I visited with the officer and mentioned how much safer it seemed now, with the cars slowing down and moving over. He explained that there’s a state law in Iowa that one must move over away from an emergency vehicle or there’s a violation with a $200 penalty! He said they enforce the law (allowing for vehicles that are unable to safely change lanes). He told me that people are ticked off to get a ticket for that but once they are in a situation where they are stranded along side the road they see the value in it.

Angus finished up quickly and the officer sent us off to a tire store that would he knew would be open, telling us it is where he buys his own tires. He wrote the directions out on the back of his card. We bungeed the now-ragged tire to the top of the car, thanked the policeman and headed out to replace the little spare donut tire. An hour and a half and a couple hundred bucks later we were on the road again.

Surprisingly, both of us were in a great mood. I kept thinking how it had been such absolute perfect timing when that police car pulled up behind us. I wondered how much trouble we’d have had had we been farther on into Iowa, way between little small towns when the tire blew. What would the odds have been that we could find any help or a tire store open out there on a sweltering Sunday afternoon? Would there have even been a town where we could stay the night, if needed? I just know that we felt grateful and hopeful and ready for a week of togetherness and we didn’t let that dampen our spirits. God was watching out for us even on the hot pavement of the highway.

I thanked God for watching out for us even on the hot pavement of the highway…and I sent a postcard from Minnesota to the Urbandale, Iowa Police Dept.

This may be the most moving thing I have ever witnessed and it happened just an hour ago after Youth Bible Study at Wednesday Worship:

The last words of the praise song faded and Cathy, our Youth Pastor stepped in front of the group of about 40 Youth to introduce the speaker for the night. She explained how this young woman had come to her and requested a few minutes of time to speak to the group before she heads for college. We expected Jessica, the popular cheerleader, to stand and step forward. But it was Kayla who arose.

Kayla had always been somewhat of a misfit but was accepted and loved anyway... but was she really going to speak in front of everyone? She awkwardly held the mic to her mouth and announced that her freshman year had been the worst of her life. She had been teased and ridiculed mercilessly at school but had endured it. She and her younger brother had started coming to our youth program a year or so later and she told how she felt accepted here because people talked to her. I don’t remember anyone really ever taking much of an interest in Kayla but the kids were always kind. She stumbled as she spoke and repeated herself but it was heartfelt. She ended with the thought that her freshman year was an awful memory and she sure hoped that her freshman year of college was not a repeat of that.

I’m sure the kids were thinking that they could have done more than just talk to her, trying to remember if they even had talked to her. But I guess for a kid who is timid and weird and constantly ridiculed just finding a group who will chat and listen for a few minutes is appreciated in ways we can‘t imagine.

Cathy sat down beside Kayla and spoke to the gathered youth. She said that Kayla had wanted to tell them about the bullying that happens and how bad it feels and how important it is to not be thoughtless with our words, careless with our comments. For some people, the words and ways that kids talk to each other can cut deep. Most of the kids in the group wouldn’t tease or bully but they have all witnessed it.

A hand slowly went up at the back of the group and another of the graduating seniors stood. It was Andy. He was a popular young man with strong convictions and deep faith. A boy known for his integrity as well as for the fact that he had been Homecoming King. He, too, was heading for college soon. His eyes were glassy as he spoke softly. “When I was a Freshman, Kayla was in my Social Studies class and she really was made fun of a lot." His voice broke and he faltered but went on "I didn’t do anything about it” There were tears in his eyes. His voice trembled but he continued “Kayla, I’m truly sorry.” He sank back to the floor and wept softly in silent prayer.

We quietly gathered all the kids leaving for college into our middle and huddled around, Kayla and Andy arms around each other. All hands reaching in to touch the shoulders and heads and backs of these beloved friends who were moving on to the next phase of their lives. And we lifted them all in prayer recgonizing their beautiful potential, lives filled with hope and promise.

Andy’s pure and heartfelt confession in front of all his peers, his sincere repentance and Kayla’s perfect nonjudgmental acceptance of the love he offered is more than my weak words can describe. But know that all of us right there learned more than we had from a fifty Sunday sermons and righteous speeches.

Remorse, Strength, Repentance, Compassion, Confession, Love, Sin, Gratitude, Forgivenss, Joy, ...

How often have we known the right thing to do but stood paralyzed? Not participating in the wrong but not preventing it either? Not going to the aid of the victim or offering comfort? Do we even recognize our own participation in the evilness of it?

How many opportunities have we passed up to stand and make our sins right with those we've sinned against? I'm quite sure that Kayla never thought of Andy as being one of her oppressors...but he knew.

We know.

The grass is green this morning!

The hummingbird flits its zig-zag flight plan toward the red prism of sweet nectar. There is a heavy dew on the uneven, unmowed lawn. It glints in the low morning sun and frosts the scene outside my window.

Spider hangs there on its dew-heavy web, ever hopeful of a grasshopper breakfast. I'm drawn out the door. I want to hear the morning...and I am not disappointed.

The air is cool. When did I last feel the morning chill?

The birds lift their morning praise in the branches as the crickets harmonize. A dog barks the bass line in the distance and the hummingbird add the percussion of its beating wings.

The sparkling dew drops bead and drip from the petunias and zinnias applauding the chorus as the sun rises into the green leaves of the trees to conduct this orchestra.

Oh, yes, the grass is green this morning.

rain...Glorious Rain

would we appreciate it if it came
in weekly intervals of 1 inch
all through the growing season
just like the gardening books recommend?

rain...Glorious Rain!

Yes! Thunder, keep me awake all night long!
Yes! Drip & drizzle all over my freshly washed car!
Yes! Make mud in the path and puddles in the parking lot!

Rain...Glorious Rain!

Rain out the ball game
make soccer practice into a Slip 'n Slide!
Rain til the rock-hard earth with its spikey brown haircut
sighs and dissolves into a mooshy, squishy carpet

Rain til the tomatoes burst with joy
Who will complain?

rain, glorious rain...

Minnesota Vacation Pix

...been away for a week and catching up slowly. This is good food for thought:
http://ncrcafe.org/blog/5

Everything was wet from the continuous light rain as we lay in the tiny two-man pup tent that Angus had owned since he was a kid. We had tied the tent flaps up and just watched the rain drops outside hit the leaves and run off, listening to the wilderness drink it in. We had nothing to do for the weekend so we had thrown the camping gear into the Jeep and had headed out for this adventure.

We had high-dollar sleeping bags that we had bought with our wedding gift cash and the camp stove, lantern, cook kit and other various camp items were also wedding gifts. I hadn't registered for the typical china and housewares. The only thing we asked for was camping gear and this was a chance to get to try it out. We had camped our way from Missouri to our new life together in Oregon but the concentration had been on traveling, not enjoying the world around us.

The rain, our tiny tent, the fact that we had no real sense of a destination was of no concern to us then. We were young and so in love with each other and with life and with possibility. We drove through The Gorge until we found a secluded stretch of road. Angus pulled over and parked the Jeep. We walked into the wilderness a ways, found a nice little flat area with a stream gurgling below and pitched our tent... I am sure it was totally illegal to be camping there but that didn't even occur to us. The world was ours.

Now, nearly 28 years later, Angus and I are preparing for another camping trip. It will be our first alone-together camping trip since before children. We have planned and researched, and made reservations, and checked out the driving route, and made a menu and purchased items we'll need. Not exactly the impromptu path of our youth but... the world is ours.