My son, Beau, lives in Denver and wouldn't be home for Thanksgiving but was able to get the weekend off before Thanksgiving, to go to a friend's wedding in KC.  He and his girlfriend decided  to drive through the night so they'd have as much time as possible with family. (Who needs sleep when you are 24 years old?)  During  Joy's turn to drive she ran the car out of gas at 3 AM, trying to make it to the next town, 17 miles short of Salina.  She woke Bo.  After some discussion, flashers on, cars passing, temps in the 20°s and car cooling fast, they decided to walk to the next mile marker to find out where they were exactly before trying to call for help.  Cars passed.  They were worried, scared and COLD.  Just as they got back to their car a man going the opposite direction pulled off the highway and ran across to them. 

He had been driving to Salina and had seen their stopped car and when he looked back in his mirror he saw the flashers on and them standing outside of their car.  He was too far past them to help by then so he drove on to Salina, then turned around and came back to help them!  Then he drove them on to the next town to get gas and brought them back to their car before continuing on his way.

I just can't get over how this guy went SO far out of his way for strangers that he wasn't even sure needed help, really.  There are so many ways this story could have ended with a far less happy ending.  I wanted to share what a difference a random act can have.   There is so much bad news in the world today.  We need to hear and share these stories when we know them.  Just sharing them is kind of an RAK in itself because it spreads hope.  

If I had been traveling on I-35 that night, I'd have been like that guy, looking up in my mirror, wondering if those folks need help, weighing the possibilities.  Realizing I was too far past them anyway, I'd have gone on.  I'd have sent up a prayer, and maybe others in those passing cars did that, too.  I'd probably have regretted I hadn't stopped but I wouldn't have gone back to check on them.  So, praise to God, that there are those willing to take a risk, to go out of their way, to give help and hope.  Let them be a shining  example to the rest of us. ♥

Angus called on his way home from work at 9 a.m. "I think I'm going to golf this morning."
"Oh, yeah? You goin' alone?" says me, knowing his golfing buddy is still out of town.
"Probably... unless you want to come. (pause) ....I'll get a golf cart. You can drive."

You need to understand, when Angus golfs he speed walks. For him it is not only about golf but about exercise, too. I went out with him a couple of times last year, just keeping him company, tagging along. I could not keep up, he walks so fast. I really tried to be tough and not show that my calves were on fire and I was panting as quietly as I could but finally I told him "Hey, you're killin' me." and he slowed down to a normal fast pace which was till a lot of exercise.

Today, when he offered the golf cart I knew he really did want me to come, so I went. Why not? I said I wanted to walk it, I'd been walking with the dog lately so felt up to the challenge When he saw me slip on my flip-flops he said "Are you going to wear those?" Man-speak for "Are you nuts?" "Yeah, I walk in these all the time." Woman-speak for "You can't tell me what to do."

It had rained earlier in the morning and the air was still heavy with humidity but the sky was overcast and there was a slight breeze. We begin the trek to the first hole. Before we had gone past the 2nd hole I had a blister on my left foot. Instead of being miserable for the next 6 holes I just slipped off my flips and Angus slid them wordlessly into a pocket on his cart.

Suddenly walking on a lush, thick green carpet. It was cool and slightly moist under my feet as I walked beside my husband in the peace of the late morning. I wondered if anyone else had ever walked this place barefoot and experienced the soft joy I was feeling. It occurred to me that here I was standing in a little piece of grassy heaven and no one was appreciating it in quite the way I was. By standing barefoot on it I was somehow a part of the environment I was in and I saw things differently than I'd have otherwise. I spotted a deer track near a marsh. I noticed the places where clover was trying to intrude. I felt the sun slip in and out between the clouds and I caught the breeze gently lift my hair ever so slightly. It occurred to me that a golf course is a part of nature, however manicured it may be, beauty is everywhere!

I am so glad I did not miss out on that opportunity so feel closer to Angus, nature and God.

It was one of those perfect Autumn days. The was day sunny and warm but there was a crispness in the air and a cool breeze. The sun had already dropped below the horizon but the sky was filled with soft colors as we stood for the national anthem at Beau's soccer game. The American flag waved gently against the peach sky as the soccer announcer began to sing. "Oh, say can you see, by the dawn's early light?.." His strong, heavenly voice melted into the beautiful scene before us.

I was taking it all in, feeling grateful we are fortunate enough to have such a beautiful voice lead us. My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of children laughing. Perhaps it was coming from the playground of the school across the road and behind us. It grew louder and I realized it was the sound of honking geese... and then they flew into view. They flew in their V-formation, singing along with us, across the sky and toward the flag, through the pastel sky, above the silhouetted trees. It was an image that will stay with me forever.... a perfectly God-painted moment.

The soccer boys later made jokes about how the Chiefs get Blue Angel fly-bys at their games and we Canada Geese.

Ours was better. ☺

I sat down by the seawall watching the sun rise. Angus and I had been at The Lake of the Ozarks for two days. Our hosts, my brother and sister-in-law had headed back home the evening before and we had the large lake house to ourselves for a few days.
I was content and happysitting in the quiet morning light, trying not to notice the hulking frame of concrete and steel rising off to the Southeast. We are on Ship’s Point. The point just to the East of this one… the one that this house faces, has always left us with a beautiful view of a lovely, grassy point with small trees… no house, no people, not even a dock.

The original house had burnt down over 40 years ago, leaving only the brick chimney standing, and nothing had ever been rebuilt. “Chimney Point”. Years ago the “For Sale” sign went up but the asking price was high so it remained the same year after year. Several years ago it finally sold. The rumor was condos. And sure enough we began to notice changes when we went down. A sea wall was built. Trees were bulldozed and the grasses scraped away. Construction began a building was erected. Now, this year, the condo is taking shape.

In only a few more minutes I knew that the clanking, groaning and grinding of the heavy equipment would break the silence. The banging and shouting of the workers would begin and last ‘til 4 pm when the construction crew would leave the giant steel skeleton behind as they crawl into their pickups weary from their hard work in the July heat.

I was drinking my coffee, watching the sun appear above the mist and later disappear into the clouds. Enjoying the peace and the solitude. Not wanting to think about the changes to this peaceful point once the condo is finished.

It occurred to me that it was Thursday and that Jetty Betty would be writing her “Thursday Thanksgivings” and finding wonderful things to be thankful for even in the midst of whatever turmoil and disappointment is in her life. She’d be looking at the good side of things. I started thinking about all the good in my life. I starting thinking about all the good times we’ve had down here over the last 29 years with friends and family.

Angus and I took long weekends in the incredible peace and solitude of the lake house in winter. Reading and watching the view and the rare speedboat pass by the picture windows. We cooked elaborate meals, ate slowly and did the dishes side by side. We were undisturbed by the temptations of TV and computers and telephones. The decisions were whether to put on Eric Clapton or Jimmie Spheeris as we sat by the fire in the evenings dreamily watching the flames and sipping a glass of wine.

We’d go to bed early and sleep late. And because it was The Lake House it was especially romantic… like a fancy secluded resort, yet as familiar as home.

When the kids were little we spent a Fourth of July watching the fireworks put on at the Four Seasons Resort across the Lake. We had a perfect view from our lawn chairs by the water and we didn’t even have to be a part of the flotilla of boats out there watching, too. The kids giggled as they drew golden circles in the black night with their sparklers and after the fireworks they watched to boats pull away one by one.

One year Angus’ family decided to have Thanksgiving at The Lake. We all sat together at the long Ponderosa-style table laughing and enjoying one another. No late arrivals or fast escapes... just acceptance.

The Lake is where I first really got to know Angus’ family. What’s to do but talk as you sunbathe and watch the kids, cooking and eating together? It’s where I first learned of the Mc’s “10 O’clock Rule“. The men would get up early to fish and do any yard work before the summer heat set in. They’d keep an eye on the time for at 10:00 a.m. it is okay to have your first beer of the day. I don’t know who made the rule; it preceded my entry into the family.

The boys floated in life jackets in the waves from the passing boats pretending they were in the ocean while we mamas laid in the sun on the rocking dock. They picked wild flowers along the gravel road. In later years they jumped off the roof of the dock into the deep water. They jet skied in the cove ‘til their legs ached. They’ve blown leaves with the powerful backpack leaf blowers onto a tarp to be pulled to the water’s edge and dumped, jumping into the ice cold water to cool off and to prove they were men.

They caught lightening bugs with their cousins who are grown now. They caught fish with their grandfather who is gone now.

Everything changes.

I contemplated the sunrise and my memories, feeling both happiness for the beautiful past and regret for what never will be again. The looming mass of condo reminded me that change is always coming and a lot of times it is out of our control, it‘s not what we want... But life goes on.

It made me value the “right now” a little bit more, appreciate the past a lot more and look forward to whatever happens next with hope. The unpredictability of life is what makes it both scary and fascinating. It makes us work harder, dream bigger and love better. It pops us out of our ruts and into the sunshine or into the mud.

This day, I’m in the sunshine and will take advantage of today. I know the mud is there waiting to pull me down so I’ll look up… trust God to get me through it when the time comes.

Life is good… and I believe that with all my heart.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Life will bring you pain all by itself. Your responsibility is to create joy.”
~Milton Erickson, M.D.

It was one of those fleeting moments where everything comes together and life feels perfect and you know it won’t last so you soak it in and let it fill you.

I glanced over at Angus grilling fat juicy burgers and noticed a squirrel ransacking the Mulberry tree behind him. It stopped now and then to scold Miss SuzyQ as she carefully watched his every move from below. Eventually she gave up the hopeless waiting game and took her place beside me on the deck. I sat rocking in a slow rhythm, occasionally taking a sip of wine as the sun just dipped below the trees.

The rocking chair had been a Mother’s Day gift a few years ago. The boys had gone together and bought it, knowing my love for sitting on the deck observing, reading and just enjoying. They have memories of me rocking them sleep at night, reading or singing our own made-up lyrics to “Mockingbird“. “If that mockingbird won‘t sing, Mama’s gonna buy you a squishy thing. If that squishy thing gets flat, Mama’s gonna buy you a brand new hat (or cat… or rat).” Oh, they loved that song! It changed every time we sang it and it never failed to quiet a sad little boy. Eventually the old rocking chair with teething marks on its arms symbolized “bedtime” and they wanted nothing to do with it. Now, a different rocking chair, a different purpose but it still brings me closer to the boys when I think about it.

Captain Jack lay quietly beside me taking it all in with me. Now and then I would drop my hand down and rub his cheek. He’d squint and lean into it with gratitude and barely notice when his sister joined us. He was once a bold, brave tomcat who wanted nothing more than to escape the domestic life.
One time he was gone overnight and came back with his eye swollen shut. He had a worbal in his eye that the vet removed and said he’d have gotten the maggot-like parasite from sticking his head in a rabbit hole. A few days later, feeling better, he disappeared again for three days. When he came back he was a changed cat. Frightened of everything. So jumpy that the boys couldn’t resist surprising him whenever they got the chance and laughing hysterically when he jumped a foot straight in the air. He has since settled down to be our homeboy, seldom venturing more than a few yards from the house. He has lost his lust for adventure.

The aroma of the hickory smoke and the seared meat was making me hungry. Brutus lay on the grass near the grill, his head up but careful not to look in the direction of the fabulous smells that were wafting his way. Such a greatly disciplined dog he is! He is a black lab we inherited when my brother moved from his house with a little fenced back yard to a house on a golf course. He has been a great addition to our family and loves the country life. He loves the woods out back and comes home grinning and covered with ticks. He is gone more than he is here, roaming with the coyotes, I wonder? But this evening he has joined us and I am glad for it.

The birds are active on this cool evening, flitting from tree to tree, they give out happy chirps different than their morning singing. They must be wearier now but still hopeful to fill those little birdie-bellies back at the nest. I watch to see if I can locate a nest but give up and turn my attention to my chickens wandering about the yard.

They have found something yummy up near the road and scratched the mulch away from the flower beds to get at the something hidden beneath. They stay together as they meander along the driveway and back into the yard. One of the hens is a straggler, attentive to some grub hidden in the grass. She suddenly notices they’ve left without her and she runs to catch up. She lifts her skirts and wobble-runs toward the others.

I knew we’d be eating on the back deck in a few minutes, taking advantage of the mild weather that we both knew would not last. It would be just Angus and me, the boys having all gone off with friends tonight for sand volleyball. I am thinking about how nice it is to have this quiet dinner at home with Angus. We’ve had so little alone time over the years but we are transitioning. I wonder, in a year or two when all the boys have gone and only come home sporadically, will we still cherish these quiet evenings alone?

It was a lovely, quiet meal. We talked and smiled and as we cleaned up afterwards, the house filled with young people again and the fridge door opened and laughter flowed. Someone flipped on the TV and we all sat jumbled together watching “Shrek“ because that was what was on. There were too many for the seating but no one cared. They crunched together, they sat on the floor and chuckled at the silly jokes. I noticed the look of contentment that had settled over Angus as he sat comfortably among them and I felt the same.

Life is so good.

The month of March was the third warmest on record here in Missouri. They told us that it wasn’t going to last but I had been lulled into the hope of an early spring.

I watched as the peach trees bloomed. I planted the cold-hardy veggies, and sneaked in a few of the later ones, too. The cherry tree burst into bloom followed by the pears. I was harvesting asparagus…in March! My water lily leafed out and floated gracefully over the heads of my fish and some tadpoles that have hatched out. Even the lilac began to bloom!

Then it happened. Not just a frost but a hard freeze! Predictions of lows down in the 20°s were realized. …And there was nothing I could do but watch.

I drove off to work and noticed all the tulip heads hanging. They looked as if they were deeply saddened. They seemed to be praying, every head bowed. The timing was perfect (as God’s timing always is). Holy Week.

Those flowers reminded me how only a few days earlier they had been beautiful and proud, rejoicing in the light and warmth of the sun… just like the people had on Palm Sunday so many years ago. I wonder what the disciples must have been thinking…”Ah, at last! He is getting the recognition and priase he deserves!”.

Jesus warned them repeatedly that he would die, that they would fail him. They just didn’t get it. My brain knew that the cold weather surely couldn’t be over yet… but I wanted it so badly. Then the cold streak hit and it has taken its toll.

The tulips bend almost to the ground in their sorrow. The disciples must have hung their heads like that in their shame. They surely all wanted had thoughts of their failure. They may have even wanted to kill themselves just as Judas did.

In the afternoon on my way home from work, SURPRISE, the tulips had raised their heads again. The sun had come out and got their juices flowing! They were not standing so tall and proud now… just a little bent. The Son came back to the disciples, too. He gave them hope again. They finally got it. They went on, humbled now, understanding what true sacrifice is. Understanding what Grace is. They had hope and humility and faith. They did go on living and spreading the Good News.

We are forgiven. We can start over again knowing that. We can raise our heads again. Jesus is here with us! We can keep on going in hope and in serivtude and in joy! Happy Easter to all of you, my friends.

It was one of those miserable, wintry afternoons you just want to be lazy; glad you are indoors. Kev had flipped the channels of the TV 'til he found "The Bridge Over the River Kwai". Beau parked beside him. I wandered in, too, and settled into the big chair, SuzeeQ jumping into my lap. The woodstove had us cozy and warm. We had all seen the classic old WWII Prisoner of War movie (a true & fascinating story) many times but that fact just added to the comfortableness.

"Hey, the Japanese colonel is the same guy as the pirate in "The Swiss family Robinson", Kev stated proud of the discovery. Beau and I weren't sure. Kev disappeared into the basement and reappeared a few minutes later holding our ancient video tape of the old movie that had been a favorite of the boys so many years ago. He checked the info for the River Kwai movie on TV against the back of the video box for Swiss Family and proved he was right. Sessue Hayakawa had played both roles. In fact, both movies were made the same year, 1957. Good eye!

Suddenly, the old video was popped in and we were watching the Robinson's adventure once again...this time through the eyes of adults. As we watched we noticed things we had never noticed in the dozens of times we had seen it before. Like Kev said, "It would take them fifteen years to build a tree house like that with the tools they had." ...and how about that giant pit they dug to hold the tiger...imagine how deep and wide that would have been! Looking at it through the jaded eyes of adulthood we saw that it was, indeed, a fantasy...but when you are a child it seems so possible! It is the hope and love and passion for life and each other that give it the feel of realism... those parts were true and honest.

We remembered, we pointed out our favorite parts of the movie, we shared our favorite characters, we talked about the funny parts, we commented all through it...afterall we'd seen it many times so no need for shuushing. Our afternoon was peppered with "Oh, I remember this" and "I love this part". There was the recognition of brotherly rivalry mixed with brotherly love and loyalty. There was also singing.."O Christmas Tree" only Beaus sang it in German since he is a student of the language. "O Tannenbaum"

It was a beautiful afternoon that some might considered wasted and unproductive. They would be so wrong! Any time you have an opportunity to spend time with your almost-grown children, wallowing in memories and remembering the joys of their childhood you should snap up that chance and never regret it for an instant!

~~~~~Moments from the movie that I hadn't noticed before:

Father: First thing we've got to do is to unload the raft. Then, put up some sort of shelter for the night.
Mother: No. That's not the first thing.
{Then they all have knowing looks of agreement on their faces and kneel together in prayer.}
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Father: Don't you sometimes feel that this is the kind of life we were meant to live on this earth? Everything we need, everything, right here, right at our fingertips. You know, if only people could have all this and be satisfied, I don't think there'd be any real problems in the world.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Father (upon discovering that mother is willing to stay on the island after they are rescued):
It's amazing how unimportant things are when they isn't anyone around feeling sorry for you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
AMEN!

I really needed a day like today… a day filled with joy. There was nothing special about the day really, nothing I can put my finger on except in the way I felt, the way I reacted to everyday things all day long. A day filled with joy.

The “why” today was different is harder to identify. I‘m pretty sure it was all in my attitude but why my attitude was better than usual? That I‘m not sure. Was God speaking to me?

I woke before the alarm and got up and soaked in a hot bath. Yes, a slower start to a day than a shower would be but much easier on the nerves, like the difference between waking to an alarm or to the rising sunshine filtering into the bedroom.

I ate an orange while the coffee brewed and then sat down and read the Bible. I usually do some kind of quick morning devotion but today I sat in my favorite chair, with my old, highlighted, scribbled-in, easy-to-read Today’s English Version, Good News Bible. I opened it to the book of Matthew and just started reading, not really to study so much as to enjoy, to experience it, like reading an ancient diary, yet as familiar as the old family photo album. I read ‘til time to head to work.

So, my day started softly and with a Bible in my lap. Is that why my focus was different? Is that why I was more compassionate with the steady stream of boys in trouble? Is that why I was more tolerant of the staff needing help during my lunch time or when I was busy? Is that why I was more generous with my reservoir of kind words? Is that why today it occurred to me that most of the parents that come through our doors are doing the best they can with the skills and experiences that they have and they love their kids as much as I love mine.
The whole day went like that with much laughter and many smiles. A good, God-given gift of a day, filled from dawn to dusk with joy!

I was driving to work on only four and a half hours of sleep. I'd been off for 2 weeks for the holidays and was having trouble adjusting back to the "go to bed early & wake up early" routine. I'd been allowing myself to wake up naturally and it felt so good! But yesterday it was back to rising before the sun and dressing in the dark while my husband who works nights still slept. I'd stayed up way too late the night before and knew I would pay the price for that as the day wore on. But it was the beginning of a new year and it felt good to be looking at the future.

My 15 minute morning drive along the back roads is always a spiritual, praying, thinking and readying time for me. The low light of dawn is conducive to peaceful and rejuvenating thought. I needed that as I headed back to work (and the "real" world) .

I had just rounded a bend when I suddenly saw the full moon low in the darkened, tri-colored sky. There was a brilliant star low beside it and it shown so brightly that it looked a promise. The Morning Star. It looked like a beautiful, surreal watercolor painting. The colorful sky, the full moon, the brilliant morning star and the perfect timing & feeling of heading into a brand new year... it lifted me to a place of hope.

Okay, so I know that the star was really a planet, probably Venus, but that does not take away my joy of that very moment. I have never seen anything like that before and I will take that image with me and remember it. I will pull that painting from my brain it will remind me of the feelings I had. Brains and memories are good for that. I'll think of this new year and of hope and that God gives us a renewed strength when we need a fresh start. It always amazes me that God gives us just what we need when we need it. He knows before we ask and it is just there waiting for us to notice.

I wonder how many times I don't.

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.

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.

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

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.

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

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.

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.

I stepped into the room to find all the heads bowed in prayer. The four years olds in this Vacation Bible School class were saying grace before their snack. The young college student teacher of the class was having each of them pray individually. Most of their prayers were inaudible but they were talking to God easily and and eagerly thanking him for the crackers and cheese before them.

I was thinking how smart that young woman was to get these kids started with this kind of praying out loud with others at such an early age...getting them comfortable with prayer. I know I shouldn't have been thinking at all but praying along with them myself but I was curious. Suddenly I heard these words loud and clear from a very small boy ~ "and thank you for dying on the cross for us". The adults in the room all looked up at the same time and looked at each other in amazement and smiled.

Oh, how I wish I had known at four years old... even at his understanding level, whatever that may be, he had it right.

I expected to feel all goody- goody after my return from work with the hurricane relief down South but... well, there have been so many feelings, thoughts, ideas, prayers and images banging around in my brain! It's taking me awhile to process it all. Especially when I get back home and am expected to, you know, take up the same place where I left off before I went. I don't feel good either, nor bad... just different... challenged... changed.

I sent out an email to practically everyone I know letting them know about the great need for volunteers since it is clear that is the only way the non-business,

non-wealthy folks are going to get help. The responses I got were diasappointing and disheartening to me. I'm hating all this "Oh, you did such a great thing." "Oh, it's so wonderful that you gave up so much to go do that." "Oh, I want to do something like that but I just don't have time." It makes me want to sccreeeeaam! I do understand how they are feeling and know that they are sincere. It is exactly how I felt before when I would hear about other mission trips our church has organized. But I don't want kudos; I want other people to step up and pick up where we left off!

I didn't do a great thing, I didn't give up anything, it wasn't wonderful, you CAN do something like that, you DO have the time.... I want to say that but I don't. I've been in their shoes. Maybe by going myself I did plant a few seeds among my peers. They can do it, too. Afterall, Lou is the one that showed me that it can be done. She went to Nicaragua!

I do feel good that 2 of my sons gave up their time to come with us. They were both hard workers, and Casey's friend, Chris, was, too. It would have been a much less productive group without the 3 young men that followed me down there. I feel good about that. I worked hard, too. I can feel good about that as well. The folks whose homes we worked on were sincerely grateful that it was finally their turn. We did a good thing for them. There is no doubt of that.

We worked together so well! The combination of young people and adults, male and female was perfect. Among us were those with strength and the vitality, those with knowledge and skill and experience, those with enthusiasm and a willingness to do anything. There was kindness and an honest effort to value everyone; find a meaningful job for everyone that wasn't just busy-work. I feel good about the group. I made many new friends. I learned a lot, too.

There were no slackers among us. We saw the almost unfathomable amount of work that still needs to be done and we just wanted to work, work, work in the samll amount of time tha we would be there. We did all we could, more than most groups that go, but it didn't seem enough. We didn't go shopping or eat out or take in the scenery. We just worked.

It was a good trip. A good group. Good work was done. And yet...

The feelings are still bouncing around. I'm still working on them. I'm letting God work on me.