A Summer Lesson

 I finally silence my cell phone as the text tone rings incessantly.  My dear aunt is posting pictures to all the grandkids.  The photos are nostalgic items from my grandfather's yellow farmhouse, for she is cleaning it out.

It has been a truly marvelous summer, exceeding my expectations.  Almost none of my summer goals are checked off, but somehow that's okay.

In June I attended my grandfather's funeral.  Living just down the road from him most of my childhood years, he is a constant in my memory.  Always there, always around, always showing up.

Two months ago, when we got the news, the grandchild/cousin text circuit was incredible.  We grew up together with him as patriarch.  Memory after memory ringing out the truth.  He is gone.  His memory is fully alive.

Before summer exits, before I receive the bolo tie I claimed from yesterday's photos, can I share what really matters to me?  Can I share what will stay alive always in me and what I've inadvertently passed on to my children without even trying?

I was ten or eleven when his first wife, my grandmother, lay dying from advanced cancer.  I loved her passionately.  I loved her so much my grades suffered that fifth grade year.  I was troubled by her pain, by her inevitable death.

It was not just me that loved her though.  During an afternoon on one of the last days of her life, I said my goodbyes to her silently failing body.  She lay in a hospital bed near the top of the stairs of the split level farmhouse.

I left the room and stood in the hallway; in the in between.  On one side was the kitchen where she'd cut my hair, fixed fabulous meals, and let me play barbies.  At the other end was the doorway into her death.

My grandfather walked out of her room and blurry eyed, ran into me.  He grabbed my shoulders, his body shaking with anguish, and then wrapped his arms around my little body.  He held me sobbing for a lifetime.

For sure, the embrace lasted less than a minute, but the impact it left will outlive him, and outlive me.  In that moment of his unrestrained grief released in my presence, his tears were a river, rushing through me, his oldest grandchild.  The river's intense rushing left me with a vision for a marriage like his.  I didn't even know the vision began.

True love, you see, is real.  True love is lasting.  True love means great gain, and great pain.

I witnessed the real deal marriage, where separation by death is the only option, and death comes only with a serious fight to remain alive and together.

My grandfather was a quiet man with a song at the right time and a quick wit when you thought he wasn't paying attention.

His commitment in marriage was loud, lasting, alluring.

Seeing something that good showed an impressionable preadolescent something to look for, strive for, wait for.  Without saying anything.

Grandpa's death this summer helped me to see what an incredible gift he gave me.  I have a great inheritance.  Divorce in our family is extremely rare.  My parents, aunts and uncles, siblings, and cousins have chosen strong and lasting marriages.  We've received a good legacy.  It's not perfect, but it's good.

Sometimes I think creating a legacy has to be complicated. From Grandpa I learned it just has to be real.

3 Things White

I'm liking printing off Ann Voskamp's Joy Dares each month.

Each day is a challenge to find three categories of things to be thankful for.
August first was three things white.

I like this because it forces me to be creative in my thankfulness, forces me to be intentional, too.

Three Things White

One
My brother calls in evening sunlight, slow pauses between exchanges as we communicate from Washington, USA to Papua New Guinea.  After a few minutes I realize he has something to say.  He tells me he proposed.  I say congratulations and back up....what did she say???



Her voice appears on the line and she says a laughing, joyful yes!  This girl I've prayed for the past twenty years.  She's here and I rejoice in God's faithful kindness, their story one of grace and heartache, healing and hope.  Both loving God, and in love with each other.

I look forward to early 2013, a new sister in a white dress.

Two
We ride our bikes, my boys and I, three minutes down to the Dairy Queen.  In the laundry mat next door the music blares "Eye of the Tiger" as we sit on the bench, all eight of us, and enjoy our ice cream cones.  I take my two year-old nephew to his home, just right there, too.

Never have I believed I would live near family.  Hoped, yes.  Believed, no.  Now, my sister and her family live just a ten minute walk.

I can see the whites of their eyes, live life and love them, closer than I ever dreamed.

Three
The kids visit a beautiful beach, clam with their granddaddy.  I stay behind. But Dawsy doesn't forget me.  He wraps me up a lovely shell complete with the sweetest letter.

The white shell, white paper, gift of a son and his thoughtfulness.

I am healthier and happier when I think of God's gifts, everywhere, if I just pause to see.

Turn Back to Praise

We're headed west with the sun and the sign says one-hundred-and-ninety-two miles till the city near where we live.  I've got some hours of hands on the wheel and this time I need it.

My heart is full and I need some forced sitting time to filter and soak and think and pray.
I'm overfull. 

How does one keep all the wonder and thankfulness and joy within from those surprise gifts that sometimes come one's way?

I share in tears with my husband the beauty of the weekend moments.  He said I needed to blog about it.
But how do I blog about the sacred with out desecrating it?

About the seven and eight year-old niece and nephew baptised with so much of my family standing around in support?  With the two pastors and many others who've been spiritual examples to me nearly all my life?
About the words of that seven year-old boy before the church..."I want to follow Jesus in every circumstance of my life, no matter what happens"?

And how do I even begin to share the depth of emotion when that seven year-old nephew gathers all the family together after a chili lunch for prayer time..."to thank God for this awesome day"?.  When have we ever gathered together except before a meal for a prayer of thankfulness?  A time so poignant and pregnant with emotion part of me wanted to just head on up to heaven right. now.

Because for that moment the world was all as it should be.
Those I love and share blood ties with all were focused on what really matters.
Our perspective was right, holy, pleasing to our Creator.  We were right with each other and right with God.
We experienced a moment in time that will last for eternity.

The echo of words from 3John haunt me..."I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in the truth."
And other words..."a little child shall lead them."

My friend said I need a memento to remind me of that moment...when the world was all as it should be.

I pray with David, as I acknowledge the blessing of the moment, and turn it back to praise...
"Who am I, O Sovereign LORD, and what is my family, that you have brought me this far?...How great you are, O Sovereign LORD!  There is no one like you, and there is no one but you, as we have heard with our own ears."

And I boldly pray now, O LORD, that You hear the prayers we prayed that afternoon and answer them fully and completely, that those great-grandchildren would always walk in the paths of God, and that the rest of the great-grandchildren would choose God's ways as well...

"be pleased to bless the house of your servant, that it may continue forever in your sight; for you, O Sovereign LORD have spoken, and with your blessing the house of your servant will be blessed forever."

How does one keep all the wonder and thankfulness and joy within from those surprise gifts that sometimes come one's way?  By turning it back to praise.

text: 2 Samuel 7

Being Mommy

Last night a group of ladies met in my living room.

One of them is single, past childbearing years, and lovely.

She's cared for each of my children in the church's nursery.

When the meeting was through, the children were already in bed but the one who just turned two.

He's in a "needing Mommy" phase.  So he came calling to me as soon as Brian knew were were adjourned.

"Hi....Mommy."  "Mommy."

And that precious single lady standing next to me said, "Oh, it must be so nice to be called Mommy."


Healing, blessed words.

How easily I forget the amazing privilege of being called Mommy.

More than we imagine

Giving thanks....for many, many rich gifts.

All gifts are given ultimately by God.

And beyond Him, there are many, many, who've lived before us, made this world an easier more comfortable place to live.  With freedoms, amenities, and opportunities most could not even imagine.

In our wedding program, one of our verses we placed in it was Ephesians 3:20,21.

Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever!   Amen.

And nearly twelve years later I can honestly say He's done immeasurably more than we asked or imagined as we entered into that covenant....and so we give thanks.