Mountain Climbers and the God Who Loves Them

Why do people tell their story? That's what I kept asking myself as I read Karen James' account of her mountain climber husband's death in her book, Holding Fast: The Untold Story of the Mount Hood Tragedy.

It's interesting how I became familiar with this story: I first heard about this tragedy on the news, and then I heard more about it when Karen James' sister-in-law came to a nearby women's conference and was going to highlight this story as the theme for the conference. The brochure let me know what the coming conference was going to be called: When Life and Beliefs Collide: How Knowing God Makes a Difference. And where there's a collision, there's usually agony and tears. I decided not to go to the conference that year.

The thing about this story that gnaws at you the whole time you are reading the book is- why didn't God answer the prayers, the thousands of prayers that went before Him, pleading with Him to calm the continual storms that buffeted the search teams and halted them in their tracks? It seemed the more that people prayed, the more the rescue was thwarted day after day, until at the end, one climber's body, Kelly James, was found, and the two other climbers were deemed as lost.

Why did Karen James want to tell this story? Utilizing her background in journalism and PR, she painstakingly recounted the details and the days of this tragedy. I had a hard time relating to her voice, though, because I kept thinking, I could never write this way. I could never put all the photos in a book and show them to the world, indicating the magnitude of the search, the gravity of the moment, and the evidence of a personal trial so grave and gut wrenching. I could never go on a trail of clues and try to figure out what what happened to my lost and freezing husband isolated in a snow cave. I could never write about the interviews and news conferences I was doing during the search because I don't think I would be doing them.

But she was a journalist. She was functioning out of her world, her expertise, her coping skills. Everybody handles stress and tragedy in their own way. And hopefully you don't ever have to handle a tragedy such as hers. You would, though -if you married a mountain climber on a mission to find adventure and challenge at every turn. She had a husband so unlike mine that I struggled to take in his beauty of character because he also seemed so hell-bent, even if he was heaven bound. He was a believer. A kind man, a giving man. A man full of creativity and a man crawling and climbing toward danger every moment he could.

Here's where life and beliefs don't collide as much as you would think: Kelly James seemed more comfortable with the idea of a possible climbing tragedy than you would first realize. Thousands were praying for this man to be found on that mountain. But Kelly James left his own heart's desires penned on paper, and these thoughts, prayers, and poems let us know- after the fact- that Kelly James perhaps knowingly began steps to his possible death the moment he stepped on a mountain.

I'm not sure if the author meant for me to have this conclusion but I had a revelation when I read this book. The account of this tragedy is gripping. The loss of the three men is tragic. The efforts of all the search teams were heroic. And the wish of Kelly James was to climb mountains- at any cost.

Perhaps what was colliding was not God's desire to take Kelly James home to heaven verses the countless prayers that were imploring God to save him. Perhaps what collided was a man's prayer for adventure-even-unto-death with the prayers of many who requested a rescue. It was clear in this book that Kelly James' heart felt desire was to challenge limits. He was a man who could not "resist the lure of adventure", who was "absorbed by challenge & to a certain extent, Danger."

This is what amazed me and surprised me in this book: that the author would share so boldly the inner conflict of life and death in her mountain climber husband's soul. He loved adventure, danger, and perhaps the very outskirts of death- and we see this by the poems and bits of writing she shares with us. She talks about what God's purpose was, concerning her husband's death. But perhaps there is also this unspoken message as well: mountain climber Kelly James had a purpose to live a life climbing mountains, defying the odds of survival until one day the mountain defied his wish to live and climb and survive.

This isn't a book to read if you are looking for a good ending, a moralistic account of how to get God to answer prayer, or even how to be a noble Christian living a quiet godly life. What I found at the end of the book was that I got a glimpse into the life of a man who I don't understand at all. I don't understand the need for danger, the risks, the ice and the snow and the altitude of his passion. But I understand that he believed in God, that he loved his family, and that he was undivided in his quest to go higher while holding fast at the same time.


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The Shallow End

The day before Thanksgiving is a day of errands and activity in preparation for homage to the great bird, the Turkey. Errands and chores and cleaning and baking- these are all shallow things, we suppose in our minds. This is not a day for lofty thinking and philosophical pursuits.

I have a list of things to do today. Having been away for five days, the house is lacking in attention, the fridge is almost empty (and needs cleaning) and I have two teenagers still sleeping who will wake up hungry and after eating breakfast, will want lunch, then dinner, and then my son will have a bunch of college-aged kids over who will congregate in our lower level and I better not run out of food. I have a lot to do today.

I have to pay bills today, also. I have to juggle the finances and make things stretch. I have to look at Alex's tuition bill and address that. I'm not even going to think about my husband's career crossroads and what needs to happen there.

I'm going to stick to the simple shallow things of ordinary life today. Do what I can do. And I'm going to remember what Oswald Chambers wrote about how the ordinary "shallow aspects of life" are "ordained by Him equally as much as the profound".

I'll try to remember that as I'm scraping dried apple crisp off the oven doors. I was taking the pan of apple crisp out of the oven last night, gloating over the crumbly browned topping, when I suddenly half dropped it. I caught it in time to keep half the contents in the pan (thinking to myself that I would tell my ravenous son, "Half is better than nothing". See how I have these moralistic little lessons ready on my tongue all the time?!). But the rest of the apple crisp splattered all over the hot oven, sending smoke and a pungent burning aroma throughout the house.

So I'm cleaning the oven today as well. But I'm going to remember that"we are safeguarded by the shallow things of life." And I like the idea of being safeguarded. I like the idea of anything having to do with being safe. So I'm listening to the words of Oswald Chambers. He's right. "We are so nauseatingly serious, so desperately interested in our own character and reputation, we refuse to behave like Christians in the shallow concerns of life."

So how does a Christian clean a dirty oven? How does a Christian pay the bills and grocery shop and scrub counters and clean toilet bowls? Not with a halo on their heads. Not even with a pious look on their face. If smoke is still in the air and the acrid smell of dried baked on brown sugar is filling their nostrils as they bend over the oven and scrape and scrub, the Christian will wrinkle her nose and wish she had held onto the apple crisp pan better. The Christian will scrub the toilets and not try to act like it's a great service for God. It's not. It's simple service. Its taking care of the shallow things of life.

And you can only do that if you're alive. You can only wrinkle your nose in disgust at burned apple crisp if you're still breathing, simply trying, still standing after all is said and done.

Home Sweet Home

I have not fallen off the face of the earth. I've been traveling. Lots. That's why I haven't posted in a while.

Bill, Abby, and I drove 14 hours down to Kentucky on Friday and picked up our son at his college and drove 4 hours the next day over to Nashville for a weekend of wedding festivities. My oldest niece, and godchild, got married. Talk about highs and lows, smiles and tears, stress and a test of your equilibrium! It was wonderful. It was beautiful. It was a lot of family (and friends) together- so that always makes it interesting.

Then we drove- well, we were going to drive 16 hours all the way home to upstate New York but heaven poured down its emotions as well. It rained. And it poured. And though we got onto the road Monday morning at 6:30 am, by 6pm we were still on darkened wet highways wedged in between massive trucks on a mission to get someplace. I was pressing my foot to the floor looking for that imaginary brake, calling out to Bill "Watch out! Slow down!" and the kids were having a blast seeing me squirm under the pressure. (They sat in the backseat, and sometimes things look a lot less dangerous when you don't have a full frontal view of whats coming at you).

Sometimes the journey is long, mercilessly long. And sometimes a kind neighbor or brother will step in and let you know, "You're running dry. Stop here. Refresh. Refuel."

And that's what we did. We wound up staying the night in Pennsylvania at my oldest brother's home. We walked into their beautiful home with shaking knees (okay, just mine were shaking) and bloodshot eyes. They made a fire in the wood burning stove, put sheets and blankets on the beds, and we dove in. I was a wreck.

But I woke up and the sun was streaming in. My heart wasn't racing anymore. The second leg of the trip awaited us, but now I felt ready to go on.

So we're home now. In one piece. Sound in mind and body. Harry is delirious with joy at our return for him. (He was staying at my in-laws. He only tried to creep up into their bed one night. What can I say? He's needy).

Smoke Signals

People do various things to bring comfort into their lives when times are troubled. Toddlers suck their thumbs, some people turn the television on and numb their pain by watching mindless sitcoms, and then there's me: I trim my hair. Not cut it. Just trim.

"Mom!" my daughter will say in a scolding voice at finding me looking in the mirror with the scissors in my hand.

"What?" I protest. "I'm just trimming my hair."

And this scenario repeats over and over. It got to the point that Abby hid my scissors for a couple days. She and my husband had to do an intervention of sorts. No more trimming for me.

I have always dabbled in cutting hair. This started out innocently enough when I was younger and I began to trim a girlfriend's hair and help her style it so that she could look as pretty as she ought to. She was hiding behind her hair and I wanted to help her.

Then I began to cut my husband's hair, years ago, due to economical motivation. He was a pastor in a small church with a small salary. I needed to help make ends meet. So I learned how to use the electric clippers and the different attachments. I give pretty decent haircuts considering most men go into a barber and the barber just mows them down with a clipper. I can do that, I thought, and I did.

Then a year ago my teenage son wanted to grow his hair as long as he could, considering the rules of the Christian school he was at, and it was up to me to keep trimming the ends when his hair would reach his collar (a big no-no). Then after school ended, Alex wanted me to texturize his hair to take out some of the bulk. I know how to use these texturizing scissors pretty well
(a word of caution here: don't try this at home or you could end up bald in a zig zag pattern!).

And then there's me. I have always trimmed my own hair, contorting myself into weird positions so I can see in the mirror the back of my head and get everything just right. I trim my hair partially because its just plain cheaper to do so than to go to a salon every two months and plunk down a huge wad of cash.

But I also trim my hair lately because it comforts me to make something, something, even and straight and right. The last couple years I have been trimming more and more. That should tell you something about my life, or at least tell you something about how I see my life. I see it as a bit uneven, jagged , something's not right here, and then there's this part of my life that I want to get right. I'm coping and I'm comforting myself, when I trim my hair, with the idea that there's something more I could do to fix things, to arrange things better.

Now I know enough about Psychology and I've read enough self-help books to know that in this aspect of my life, this habit is not a good one, that its a reflection of my need to control or cope, and that it's not helping me any. I know this. I don't trim my hair without thinking - this is not good, Lauren.

If you've been trimming your hair, figuratively, in an attempt to get a bit of relief from living in a world which needs a lot more than a new hairstyle, then you may have been asking God for help, for comfort. And until you've heard from God, you've snipped a little here, snipped a little there. Maybe you're doing a lot more woodworking than you did before, and the log you're working on has been whittled down to a toothpick and you're still trying to get it right. Maybe you keep painting the same canvas over and over. Maybe you've been cooking and baking and cleaning to save your life, and people have been asking you- why the frenzy? Why the increase in this activity, this habit of yours?

Sometimes we just do something because its the one thing we know how to do to make sense of something. It's the one thing about which we have a bit of expertise or a bit of wherewithall and we are exerting all we know to do to affect something positively.

I'm not really bringing much comfort to my life when I trim my hair, even if in the very moment I'm trimming I have a momentary sense of satisfaction, of accomplishment, of evenness. I want a comfort that's more enduring. I want a pervading sense of peace. I don't like to feel like I'm in a precarious place of transition and trial.

I've not only been asking God to comfort me, I've been signaling it with my dysfunctional constant trimming of my hair. I see this and God sees this clearly. He's ready to do an intervention of sorts. Because God not only hears our prayers and petitions and requests for help. He sees them as well.

"I love the Lord, because he listens to my prayers for help"
Psalm 116:1

A Certain Economy

Be careful about reading news headlines that scream out shocking truths about the economy. They're meant to scare you. They're pretty much the truth. They're meant to jolt you awake. But they're not meant to minister to your spirit. And you need that just as much as you need truthful information about our economy.

There's a certain veracity to the argument that our nation's economy is on a roller coaster descent of frightening means. Like a roller coaster that got mad and fed up with staying on track and now its off track, and plunging downward. And the fact that its shocking everybody with its plunge makes the roller coaster slightly pleased. It can't help itself. It was telling everyone that it was coming off the tracks and no one was listening.

But then there's another economy that we have to consider. And I was reminded of this at church yesterday. There's God's Economy. And in this economy, the headlines never scream for attention, never delight in evil and in scaring people. There are sober warnings in God's economy- such as you reap what you sow. Such as -be careful to take the plank out of your own eye before you help someone with their lack of vision. And in God's economy, there is an assurance of harvest after a sowing has taken place. What there is not in God's economy is an absolute time table laid out that tells you exactly when this harvest occurs, exactly when everything takes place.

I felt a lifting in my spirits yesterday. That happens when people pray for you. That happens when the yoke of fear gets broken. That often happens when you get together with other people who are honestly and earnestly seeking the Lord. I think we've found a church home. I think we're home now- even if we're still journeying onward.

There's this guy at our church who sits near the back usually. He has a low voice, a soothing voice. And all throughout the worship time- times of exuberant singing and times of beautiful repetitive singing of a certain chorus- this guy will interject his heartfelt exclamations of truth. "You're the King of Kings and we love you" or "You're worthy of praise" or in the case of yesterday, "You've lit our fire, Lord." Oh, yes. That He has.

And God can light a fire of faith in you that rages stronger than the frightening news of a troubled economy. God's economy and its truths can be your internal compass. And while the effects of our natural economy do hit us, hard at times, we still can decide which economy has the most influence over us, over our state of mind, our sense of well being.

In God's economy, those who sow- even while weeping- eventually come to a place of reaping a harvest. Psalm 126 reminds of this. Those who sow in tears shall reap in joy.He who continually goes forth weeping, bearing seed for sowing, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him.

My favorite part of that verse is actually just one word- doubtless. Without a doubt. Cause everything in our natural economy tells you that you don't have assurance of anything. So everyone is filled with fear and doubt. But in God's economy, there's Someone eternally solvent who is backing up every single one of His promises. He will have the ultimate say. His kingdom economy is stable and just. No one can sow in faith and come back empty handed. I say that without a doubt in His mind.

I Do Believe

No sooner had I talked about the fact that lately I've been reading nothing but memoirs than I suddenly got the urge to read a certain book- and it's not a memoir. You might even call it a self help book. But don't worry, it's not one of those "7 Simple Steps to Peace and Prosperity" books. It's a book that simply states, by its title, what we all want to know when we feel we can't go another step: Believe that You Can.

I needed this book this past week. I needed this book's message and I needed to read this author's personal accounts of times when he almost laid down his dreams and his calling because he thought he was all done in. Jentezen Franklin isn't just a good author or pastor. He's also a dreamer. Not a dreamer in the sense of pie-in-the-sky but more like "how to have a dream when there's mud in your face". I wasn't looking for eloquent language or powerful principles well stated and documented. And that's not what I found when I read this book. What I found was hope and a bit of a kick in the pants. A loving one.

I can't even write right now all that's going on in my head and in my life. It's been tense and its been tight financially and its been a bit toxic- the anxiety and the confusion about where we are, where we are going, and where did we get off track- if we did get off track. Cause after reading this book, maybe - I'm thinking- maybe we're just "three days from nowhere" as Franklin writes. Maybe we're closer to a breakthrough than we realize. Maybe we're not giving ourselves enough credit for trying to follow God, even if we fail and flub our way into finding His will. And maybe we're not giving God enough credit for wanting to show up...at just the right time. His right time. Not mine.

Here's the best quote, maybe, in this entire book- and it comes right after he talks about the seasons of our life when we have no answers, no clarity about where we are anymore, and no lack of hurt and pain either:

"Let me give you a little pastoral advice. The biggest room in your brain had better be reserved for things you don't understand. If you have to understand everything before you will trust and serve God, you don't understand the concept of faith!"

Now ask me next week what my favorite quote from this book was and I may tell you something different. But for me, right now, for where I am at, where we are at financially, career wise, ministry wise- this is the quote that echoes in my head.

This quote reminds me of what an African Bible student once shared with me-over twenty years ago- when we were discussing God's will and how confusing it was to interpret God's will. He told me to put the things that I didn't understand "on a shelf" and leave them there till the time would come when I could take that question, that issue, off the shelf, dust it off, and smile- cause faith had finally turned to sight. In that day. That glorious day.

Readers, Writers, Authors, Life Changers

For the first time in over thirty years, I kept a Reading List this year. Thanks to this blog and the widgets and the gidgets they have here, I decided to keep posting and recording the names of the books I read this year(for the most part- I'm sure I forgot to write down some of the books, but I think I got most of them).

When you think about a book's influence on you, how a book can be used to challenge you, soften your heart, make you hope again, influence your perspective, make you want to weep, or run onward- you realize a book is no small thing.

I'd like to honor these authors listed below. Some of these books I loved, some I enjoyed, some moved me mightily, and some I didn't care for- but I still learned something- SOMETHING- from each book I read.

So here's my reading list from September '07 to early November '08:

• Blue Sky July (a memoir)- Nia Wyn
• Courage and Craft: Writing Your Life into Story - Barbara Abercrombie
• Here If You Need Me: A True Story -Kate Braestrup (Nov 08)
• The Blue Cotton Gown: A Midwife's Memoir - Patricia Harman
• Cancer Is a B***h: (Or, I'd Rather Be Having a Midlife Crisis)- Gail Konop Baker (Oct.08)
• Blink - Malcolm Gladwell (interesting, to say the least!) (sept 08)
• Follow the Stars Home- Luanne Rice
• Light of the Moon- Luanne Rice
• Digging to America- Anne Tyler (August 08)
• The Shack- William P. Young (Wow!)
• Weary Warriors, Fainting Saints- Joyce Meyer
• The Success Principles- Jack Canfield (interesting!)(July '08)
• My Sister's Keeper- Jody Picoult (a deep and moving story. Loved it)
• Inside the Investor's Brain- Richard L. Peterson (interesting !)
• Amazing Grace- Kathleen Norris
• The Best Year of Your Life- Debbie Ford (May 2008) (life-changing principles)
• Rise and Shine- Anna Quinlan
• Lost & Found (a Memoir) - Kathryn Slattery (honest!)
• Get Out of that Pit- Beth Moore
• Blue Like Jazz- Donald Miller
• Live Like You're Blessed- Dr. Suzan Johnson Cook
• Donkeys Still Talk (Hearing God's Voice When You're Not Listening)- Virelle Kidder (March 2008)
• A Three Dog Life (a memoir)- Abigail Thomas
• Crazy for God- Frank Schaeffer (not a light read at all!)
• Traveling Light: Releasing the Burdens You Were Never Intended to Bear- Max Lucado
• Chicken Justice... by Steve Coffman (light reading)
• Dangerous Surrender- by Kay Warren (Feb 2008)
• Pride, Prejudice and Jasmin Field- Melissa Nathan
• Austenland- by Shannon Hale (just a bit of light reading)
• The Lost Memoirs of Jane Austen- Syrie James (a lovely read)
• Bird by Bird- Anne Lamott (fuel for writers)
• The Secret Life of Bees- Sue Monk Kidd
• Waking the Dead- John Eldredge
• The Mermaid Chair- Sue Monk Kidd
• The Flip Side (Break Free of the Behaviors that Hold You Back)- F. Flippen
• The Journey of Desire- John Eldredge (loved this!! -thought provoking!)
• The Identity Code- Larry Ackerman (First book I read in Jan. 2008)
• I Wear the Maternity Pants in this Family- Susan Konig
• A Place to Call Home- Martha R. Carr
• Walking in Your Own Shoes- Robert A. Schuller
• A Walk with Jane Austen- Lori Smith (Great book to read with a cup of tea)
• Heaven is Real- Don Piper
• What's So Amazing About Grace? Philip Yancey (Loved this)
• The Richest Man Who Ever Lived- Steven K. Scott
• Dealing with the Crazy Makers- Dr. David Hawkins
• Talent is Never Enough- John Maxwell
• How Starbucks Saved My Life-M.Gill
• Become a Better You- Joel Osteen
• Right People,Right Place, Right Plan- Jentezen Franklin
• No Man is an Island- Thomas Merton
• A Short Guide to a Happy Life- Anna Quinlan
• Thinking Like Your Editor- Rabiner & Fortunato
• A New Kind of Normal- Carol Kent
• Thinking about Tomorrow by S. Crandell
• Reposition Yourself- T.D. Jakes
• You, Inc.- H. Beckwith
• Knit Together:Discover God's Pattern for Your Life- D.Macomber
• When I Lay My Isaac Down- Carol Kent (oh this is gripping!!)
• Laughing in the Dark- Chonda Pierce
• The Promise of the Second Wind-Butterworth & Merrill
• A Life Unleashed-Christine Caine
• What Happens When Women Say Yes to God- Lysa TerKeurst
• Pathway to Purpose- Katie Brazelton
• Running to The Mountain- Jon Katz (love his honesty and his style of writing)
• Katz on Dogs-Jon Katz
  
• It's All Too Much- Peter Walsh
• Communicating For a Change- Andy Stanley (September 07)

HOW ABOUT YOU? Read anything lately that's changed your life-even just a bit??

I'd love to know what I should read NEXT!

My Little Reading Corner

Maybe the best way to describe how I'm doing is to tell you that I am reading nothing but memoirs, right now. That should tell you something.

This summer I read nothing but novels- some good ones, some so "light" that I didn't even bother to write them down, some with interesting characters. All easy reading. All fiction. I only wanted to read so that I could temporarily enter another world, a story land, and have the novel end well, and with things all tidy and in place. I read on the beach when we were on vacation, and I read at night, and by the community pool my daughter swam in, and I read while waiting for the light to change.

And boy, did the light change. Not only because it's Fall, and it's daylight savings and everything gets dark and somber by 4pm or so' but also because things in my life have recently gotten...tight. Constricted. Like I'm facing a dark corner and I'm told to go in even deeper. And I say to the person instructing me, "But it's a corner you're asking me to walk into! What can I possibly accomplish being cornered and facing a wall?" That's when I realize I am talking with God. And that's also when I realize He apparently thinks a lot can be accomplished by bringing me into a dark corner, a seeming dead end.

So that's why I'm reading memoirs now. Nothing but memoirs. Because right now I can't stomach any light frivolous reading, any romantic scenes that end in roses and smiles and happily ever afters. I'm looking for something other than fiction. And I don't want to read 12 Steps to Success, or whatever self-help book is indicating that it is clear cut, that the road is straight and clear.

I only want to read about real people and hear them share with me how they got brought into a corner and ... survived it, whatever it was - drastic health issues, widowhood, a failing business, having a child, a son, born with a body that betrays him. I can hear pain in their voice. I can understand their questions, even if I can't really understand the whole scene, the whole complicated scene.

Each story is different. And no one has the same exact values as I do, the same religious, spiritual convictions. But I can still learn from them. And I am. I'm learning that it's amazing what God has put in us, and that it rises up when things get dark and possibilities are not in sight. I'm learning that being an overcomer starts, first, with a decision to be one- or perhaps just with the decision to let God turn you into one.

All Kinds of Victory

The last couple nights I have slept terribly. I wake up with a throbbing heavy head, feeling exhausted and confused. Can't remember what I dreamt. There are no symbols or images in my mind to help me understand what I was grappling with in my sleep. Whatever answer I was trying to find, I didn't find it in my dreams.

I spent yesterday sighing a lot. Not good. For me that is the tinge of something near to depression. But its just a tinge; like a spot of mold on your cheddar cheese, and you decide it's only a spot and wipe it off...and then eat the rest of the cheese. And so yesterday I kept wiping off that tinge of darkness that hovered near me. I kept going over lessons with Abby, giving her a vocab test, making us a healthy lunch, running out to the post office and then grocery store later in the afternoon. But I did all this with the sheerest of determination and grit- like a cowboy on a dry dusty trail who finds out the trail is longer than he expected and so he digs in, he keeps going, but he feels lost.


It didn't help that in the morning I was reading the early news about the election results, and I was scanning forums and sites where people were writing words of exultation as well as scathing words of hostility, viciousness, and attack . One man won a presidency, there was a victory-and yet there was a lot of alarm, fear, and despair. I tried not to let this plague of distress enter my newly found grateful-thankful mindset...but it did. I felt my optimism and my happy outlook burst like a balloon that was shot at by a nasty little boy with a slightly evil grin. Even at the grocery store, it seemed like people were rude and mean, and children were out of control and screaming and flailing. One little boy was threatening to run out in the road and the mother was nervously trying to placate him as well as keep him alive at the same time.

"I never had to do that," I told Abby as we headed to the car with our groceries.

"Never had to do what?" she asked.

"I never had to worry about Alex acting up and throwing tantrums and terrifying strangers who passed by. He was a pretty mild kid," I paused in my reverie and then smiled at her. "But he made up for all that in his teenage years, didn't he?!". I wanted her to know that I try not to idealize the past. There are all kinds of pasts: the recent past, the real past, the long-ago past, the past that never really occurred but we keep thinking it did.

Here's why I often return to the past- cause that's when I can see God's hand, His presence, a lot better than I can see it in my "now". Like right now, I know He's with me, that He's for me, but is He in front of me paving the way? Because I often feel like I am in uncharted territory, stumbling forward only to look back for His approval of my direction and seeing that He is not there.

"Why do you look for the living among the dead?...He is not here" the angel said (Luke 24). Why do I keep looking back to see if I can find answers for my future? My past can't help me go forward- especially if I am often repeating it! And if I repeat a lesson that I already learned, that I thought I learned, then where exactly am I- in the past, or in the future regretfully remembering the past?

Either way my feet are dogged by memory, by the good memory of seeing how God intervened, and by regret over how bad it was, over how bad I was. But at least I am pretty clear on what happened in my past. I am not clear on what is happening now. If God is in front of me paving the way, I can't see Him, that's for sure. I can't always feel His presence. I only feel my frantic beating heart on those days where I wake up in a hostile world and remember that I have to go out into it. I do hear His words, though, calling to me from up ahead: Do it afraid, Lauren. Do it afraid.

And if I stumble ahead and go grocery shopping and grade a test and make dinner- even though I'm thinking Does any of this matter- if I do all this feeling wretched and dry and short on air, I find that this pleases Him. This. It's so ironic. I feel queasy and unstable- but He sees, instead, a beautiful sight. He calls it....Faith.

"And without faith it is impossible to please Him, for he who comes to God must believe that He is and that He is a rewarder of those who seek Him"(Hebrews 11:6). It's just that it seems God always wants to reward me with more opportunities to get to know Him, more chances to stumble ahead, and that's not exactly the Reward I had in mind.

I had in mind a warm blanket and a soft chair; a chance to exult in my recent victory of faith (Lord, I was grateful and optimistic for three whole days!). I had in mind a soothing, "Well done, my child". And instead I hear Him say- from ahead- "Now let's go onward, shall we?".

And so that's what I do.

Not Just Today

It's Tuesday and it's Election Day, and already it seems as if things are being written about this day like it was a done deal, like it's over already. Wall Street was raring for an Election Day rally Tuesday, sending stock futures soaring as millions of Americans battered by tumbling home prices, tight credit and an uncertain job market headed to the polls. And even as we headed to the polls, there was no solace there- no matter who you were voting for. (And trust me, there is one particular jowl ed presidential candidate that I am voting for).

Change may be found at the polls, but not solace, not comfort; it's not a place to rest your heavy heart. You'll place your vote and then you'll walk away and your future may seem to be in the hands of the one who got the most votes- but it's not. It never has been. I'm trying to remember that today.

My future does not lie in this president's future choices. They will affect me greatly- his choices- but that's not where my whole future lies- in what he decides, in what he chooses. I have my own choices to make, and while my choice in the voting booth is important, it is not the most important thing I am voting for. Cause all my votes eventually add up.

I vote daily. I vote with my purchases at the grocery store, with my contributions to certain things, with my selections of food, with the businesses I decide to frequent- or not frequent. There's a store at the mall in town that I detest. It has the word Toys in its name and its signage and you think its meant for children. But its a twisted combination of novelties, some toys, and some vulgar stuff. You might go in there with your child and suddenly realize you made a very bad choice to enter that store. And when that happened to me a while ago, I voted with my mouth and told the shop owner I was surprised by his audacity to sell the stuff he does in a family-looking place. I voted against the place when I walked out of there.

I intend to keep voting even after today, Election Day, ends; and people will have to deal with the results of my votes as well as the fact that I will have to deal with political leaders' decisions and votes. I'm not afraid of what the future president will choose. I'm not afraid of the direction our nation may take- although I'm greatly concerned. Let me be concerned with how I exercise my will, my vote, every day.

Cause it all adds up. Each vote matters. Yours and mine. Today...and every day.

Thank God For a Change

I can sense that things are changing for us, for our family. Circumstantially. Things are also changing nationally, economically, politically, I know. We will see more change right after election day. But Bill and I are seeing a fork in the road for our own immediate situation. Our lifestyle of piecing together a living through carpentry jobs (Bill), bits of speaking and writing (me), house renovation and resale (which is every two-three years or so)- this pieced-together quilt of a lifestyle has been useful but its about reached its end.

Sometimes you can just sense that change is imminent. Often this terrifies us, but sometimes its a very peaceful perspective- because God has been whispering this to you for a while now, and you are not surprised that a change is coming. I'm so thankful that He prepares me for what's ahead. Even if I don't feel prepared, I am prepared. I tell myself that a lot now. I am prepared by Him, I say to myself, and I feel so thankful in a whole new way.

See, I never really understood what Thankfulness was. I had been trained in some Biblical and bizarre thinking when I was a child growing up in the Church. There were wonderful but wacky people in my life (and I say that respectfully cause I am often wacky myself)- and these people were trying their darnedest to live right, please God, walk by faith, be thankful. Its just that they were having trouble with understanding thankfulness as well. Thankfulness was a conundrum of piety, gratefulness, guilt, and fear. Fear that you weren't thankful enough. Guilt that maybe you hadn't said it enough. Piety- because you were saying "Thank you Lord" all the time, as if checking it off a list of To Do's. This was the common thinking of Being Thankful that I first grasped: it was by an act of your will, not really a response of gratitude.

One way to be thankful was to thank God for everything- and I do mean everything. The thinking was to give thanks "in all things" and that meant thanking God for every trial and trouble and bashing you might have received. Literally. "Lord I thank you that I got fired from my job, cause You must have a reason" was what your prayer should be if that just happened to you. As a child, it didn't make sense to me. And as an adult, it still didn't make sense to thank God for cancer ravaging someone, thank God for a fire that burned your house down.

One dear woman I knew battled anxiety so much she used to tremble just talking to you. But she was determined to thank God for everything and in everything. She loved ministering to children, and she used to lead them in this exercise before they got to the fun part of singing. The exercise was this: say "Praise the Lord" ten times in a row, real fast, with a smile on your face. And the kids would do this-as well as the parents sitting in the back of the room. What were we praising Him for? Nothing in particular at that moment. But by George, we were praising Him, we were thanking Him. Even if we said it in a rush. Even if she led it with jittery arms and a frantic look on her face because she was fighting anxiety that day.

But then I too have had those days where things are so scary and tense that all I could do was say "Thank you Lord. Praise you Lord" over and over like a mantra, trying to calm my spirit and appease a God who I thought needed to hear my thankfulness over and over. But I don't think He was really that pleased with how I said it, or that I said it over and over. I think what God saw was a woman who was trying to connect to Him through that awful cloud of fear and darkness that sometimes threatens to get between us and Him.

Does God care that I'm thanking Him if I don't feel thankful, if I'm just doing it because I know I should be thankful? I think what He may be after is having us learn to see and discern what the reality of our blessed state is- and then we would truly be thankful, if we saw this truth in an eye-opening revelation. Maybe He's after my eyes being opened- instead of my mouth being opened and declaring words of thankfulness because I know I should be- even if I'm not.

These last couple days I've suddenly seen the reality of my blessed state. Really seen it. I feel the love my husband has for me. I see how my daughter glows with excitement for life and learning. I hear from my son that he's working out in the weight room and that his muscles are growing and he is strong. I see my own body and I can walk and pick up things and I have hands that can stroke my daughter's long hair and arms that can hug people. I have a mind that is active and alert. (You know how active it is). I get to learn new things. I get to discover new truths. Isn't that incredible?

I have just begun to open my eyes to these things. And so maybe I have really just begun to learn what thankfulness is. Yes, this lesson started when I first realized that enough is enough, that I can be satisfied. But now the lesson is progressing to me realizing that I have more than enough. More than enough strength and more than enough preparation for whatever changes lie ahead. And now in this very tense time we're in, I'm thanking God... for a change.

Enough IS Enough!

I'm simmering right now. No, I'm not steaming hot and angry. What I mean is- I feel like I've been working on something, in my subconscious, and its starting to form, starting to come up into my consciousness as an idea, a sentence, a direction. Lord knows I need direction right now. I've been praying for direction, for guidance. And Monday, during the day, a word came to me. Just a word. But I let it simmer in me for a while, like the chicken soup I made last week. (First time I had made homemade chicken soup in years. And I suddenly remembered that the longer you simmer it, the deeper the flavor, the richer the taste).

Here's the word I've been thinking about- Enough. That's all I got on Monday. And then I met with Mu, my dear friend who always cuts to the main point without any need to placate me or prepare me for truth. She knows that as agonizing and unpleasant as Truth is, I still always crave it. It's the only way I know I'm dealing with Reality- if I feel like I've heard the truth. Mu always shares fragments of truth with me, like little odd snapshots she takes of me and I go home and look at these pictures and see something about myself that I've never seen before.

By Tuesday morning I started to think about a passage in Proverbs 30 that is not very well known or loved. It talks about the leech and how it has two "daughters" that always cry out for more- Give me more. And then it says "There are three things that are never satisfied, four that never say, 'Enough!'". And then it lists these four things that are never satisfied: the grave, the barren woman, dry land, and fire. And I could almost swear I heard my name being added to that list, as if God had an afterthought upon looking down at me. "And add Lauren to that list. She is never satisfied. She never says, 'Enough!'. She forgets to say, 'Oh Thank You Lord! That's enough for me, more than enough' ".

Talk about getting Truth spoken to you. And no one was in the room. No One but me and the whisper of the Holy Spirit which can sometimes feel not so light and whispery but more like a heavy belt of truth that He puts around and it pulls you down to the ground of Reality. Cause sometimes you have to go down before you can go up.

This passage, the commentators say, is talking about covetousness and greed. But I saw something here in this passage that I never saw before. I saw that greedy, complaining, selfish people don't start out looking that way. They start out just not being satisfied, ever, with whats given to them. They would be the one at your tea party who would forget to say "enough" (with a pleasant tone of voice) when you're pouring their tea. And then because they didn't say they had enough you kept pouring and then the tea went everywhere and made a mess. And the mess would be your fault, not theirs- or that's how they would see it.


When is it ever enough? I'm asking myself that. See, my son just got through his second bad cold since he left for college. And he didn't lapse into a major asthma attack or have to go to the hospital because it turned to pneumonia. This is wonderful news. This is a miracle. Is it enough for me to be happy about this? Or will I quickly wave that aside and say, "Now, about the next problem; about the checkbook, Lord, and the bills we have to pay, and the jobs Bill needs....About that, Lord" and act like its not enough that He spared my son from major sickness.

What about the bills we have to pay? Yes, they're looming before us. But at least I spread out the bills on the kitchen table which is in my nice little kitchen which is in the house we own (okay, the bank owns it with us), and the house is solid and dry and situated on a wooded lot in a safe town with lots of state troopers and security cars that patrol the area, keeping little old me safe and ...satisfied? Is it enough? It is enough for me?

I suddenly realize that the challenges before me do not have to do with bill paying, employment, self-employment, financial security, whether or not to pursue writing or go get a full time job in sales...These are not my real challenges, my problems. My problem is that behind all these challenges and obstacles and questions, I have a heart that quickly forgets what God did for me yesterday, last week, last year. I forget all these breakthroughs and miracles and grace moments because in the very moment I am in, I look around and forget to say, "This is enough for me, Lord. It's more than enough."

Cause if I did look around and saw all that I have, I would realize my cup overflows, that He is my Shepherd, that surely goodness and mercy follow me around like a hound dog on a trail and there's no way I will ever get goodness and mercy to stop following me all the days of my life. He has said it is so. And that's enough for me.

Taking a Stand

"On Christ the Solid Rock I Stand, All Other Ground is Sinking Sand...." That's not what I was thinking when I snapped this photo of my son this summer. That's not what he was thinking either when he climbed up on that rock and asked me to take the photo.

What we were thinking this past summer, while on vacation, was "Ah,..." and taking deep breaths of ocean air. We were thinking how good it felt to be alive and how good it was to be together. And also how hungry we were, and where was the next good place to eat?

Now summer is over. Winter is almost here. The markets have crashed. Times are lean. We're apart- Alex is down there in Kentucky, we're up here in New York, he's sick with another cold and I'm watching to see that it doesn't turn dangerous, Bill is feeling the precariousness of being a self-employed contractor, and now...more than ever...I want to remember that rock, that boulder, that Alex stood upon.

I want to fix that image in my mind so that my knees don't feel shaky and my heart doesn't race in anxiety. I want to see that rock and let it remind me that I already know- know too well- that "all other ground is sinking sand". So maybe it's time to know the rest of that old hymn; to know that chorus so well that it goes over and over in my mind till my heart leaps up in faith, in agreement, and my eyes can see clearer skies on the horizon.

What We Will Be

This morning I could not settle down with my journal and my thoughts. I penned a few words and then stopped. I stared at Harry and wondered why he is prancing around so much lately, why he suddenly wants to play, now, more than he ever has. He has turned from couch potato into Mr. Frolic and Fun- and just at a time in my life when I feel as interesting as a cold pancake left on a plate.

So I skimmed through my old journals, forgetting that this always jars me. I hate to remember so vividly what I struggled with. I hate to look back and see how things floored me, when I know they should have sailed right over my head with me smiling and saying, "Oh, I'll just let God deal with that." I hate to see how I struggled to just get trusting before God and open to the people He brought into my life. The Introvert in me rears her head loudly in my journal.

Is there such a thing as the sin of guardedness? Cause I think I may have trouble with this. I am not an easily trusting person. And while I may quickly smile at you if we meet for the first time, that doesn't mean I am open to getting to know you. It's nothing personal. It's that I'm guarded. Very very guarded. Like I have a sentry posted about my heart and they've been ordered to shoot if anything invades this delicate area.

If the fact that I am a Christian as well as guarded seems like a conflict of interests, it is. I know that. God is interested in loving the world through me. I am interested in not getting hurt, not getting walked on, not getting used.So this is a problem. For me. Not for God. Because He tells me continually that I have no right to be guarded, not since I gave my life to Him.

But if you were once guarded and now you know Him, what should you then be? Free as a bird when it comes to loving people and trusting them? Vulnerable and naive as a two year old prancing out into a busy road, unaware of the opposing nature of the cars racing toward her? Beloved, now we are children of God, and it has not appeared as yet what we will be. We know that when He appears, we will be like Him, because we will see Him just as He is. 1 Jn 3:2.

So I'm sharing this with you just so that you, dear reader, don't give me too much credit for sharing what I do with you here on this blog. I've been honest about what I write but I still have been guarded and reserved. I like to call it being wise and prudent. But God has been telling me, lately, that I'm just being guarded. Selfish. That I need to open up and stretch further when I share what I do. That's called giving of yourself.

And I intend to practise this new understanding I have of "Give, and it shall be given unto you". In fact, I am going to get radical about giving of myself, being open to new relationships, new ventures with people I have yet to meet (Deep breath here). This may cause changes in my blog, and maybe changes in who reads my blog. But it won't change the fact that God has always been the radical One when it comes to loving people and giving His all for them. I'm just trying to keep up with Him as He opens His arms, wide, to the world.

Door Number One

"Honey, the Nectar of Love is ready" my husband whispered into my ear this morning, and with that pronouncement, I arose and went to the kitchen to hold that beautiful cup of hot coffee and sip it gratefully. The fact that he gets up first to make the coffee for us is so appreciated. But the fact that he knows what morning coffee means is even more touching to my soul: it means that its time to talk, to connect before we part ways for the day. It's quiet and dark and the dog is very sleepy and usually curled up on the chair near the couch where I sit with my feet in Bill's lap and my head in the clouds of dream land tinged with morning reality.

My husband is a great listener and I have been spoiled. I've had 24 years of being married to a man who finds my imaginative mind fascinating rather than overwhelming. For the most part.

But lately he has noticed I am coming up with fewer ideas and plans and scenarios of "if A then maybe B because I think it could lead to C". He sees that I am a bit more hesitant to discuss any past issues or bring up an old memory. The past is the past. I want to let sleeping dogs lie- and that's what they want to do anyhow so why not let them?

My daughter is the one who is revving up her imagination and zooming off in all kinds of directions. I'm watching her creative zeal and remembering when I felt like that. It's not that I feel like I'm boring (but then again, you tell me!) but I feel like I've gotten to a place where I'm just pleasantly out of ideas. Out of ideas, mind you- but not hope.

I have more hope now than I've ever had before. Yet the funny thing is I've never concentrated on that word much. Faith is, obviously, a word that I talk about a lot. I see it as an action word, a verb, as well as a noun. I understand that Faith needs to be activated. That without faith we can't please God. I also know how much we have to LOVE each other. That love makes the world go 'round. That God so loved the world that He gave..... But what about Hope?

Sometimes I think that Hope is rather like the middle child: overlooked, quiet, but definitely there. What is the function of Hope? If these three remain, as 1st Corinthians 13 says, Faith, Hope, and Love- what is Hope doing in the mix if Faith moves mountains and Love conquers all?

I see Hope in a whole new light, now. This light is shining because I've gone through a quiet period, and have had dark times of frustration as well. I'm very familiar with failure, frustration, and the need to always be fixing things, solving problems, and having a Repairman mentality. It's not I am Woman Hear Me Roar but more like I am Lauren How can I Fix This? And God has been telling me, lately,"Don't you see, you can't. You can't fix yourself or your life or your kids or your future. Life is not about fixing things, Lauren".

Which brings me back to Hope. What hope do we have if we can't fix things? What hope does the world have if we don't fix all our problems? And what, exactly, is Hope, then, anyways?

For me, I am finding out that Hope is the door that opens to you when you have gone through the Valley of Trouble (Hosea 2:15). Hope is the ability to expect good- when you would have no earthly reason to do so. And Hope tells you how to define what good is, even; because Good is not always what you initially thought it was.

It might be good that you're going through trouble and difficult times IF it means that you arrive at some life-changing conclusions; conclusions such as Life is not about Solving every Problem. Life might be more the journey of learning how to see How Much He Loves You- which is the journey that keeps your heart alive with Hope.

How Long is Your Quiet Time?

I want to thank Gi for recommending my blog for so many awards. She has touched my heart. But I've also been wrestling with a bit of internal conflict over this. I love the idea behind blog awards, how they encourage bloggers and help you to know that your voice is heard (and this really comes in handy on the day when you find yourself talking to your dog, telling him about your life, because no one else is listening!). But there is some protocol with receiving awards and taking responsibility for that award's intention and passing that award onward. I'm terrible with protocol. I'm behind on my social graces and visits to other blogs.

If you want a lovely Biblical phrase to explain how I feel right now, I would say I am hid in the cleft of the Rock. But a more accurate description is that God has cornered me, I have holed up in my house, things got very quiet in my life these last couple months, and I am now getting a bit used to this monastic existence. Ask my best friend, Mu, if this is true: I think I have seen her only once since my son left for college in late August.

And just when I finally got used to the quiet time God had put me in (it might even be called a Time Out), I got a couple interesting inquiries this month, out of the blue, concerning my writing and my blogging. This happened just when I had been journaling for a week about laying down my need to write, laying down my desire to write a book (or two or three). I had even contemplated ending my blog, Faith Fuel. There wasn't anger or frustration or resentment over this concluding thought. There was, instead, a sense that God had called me down a quiet, untraveled path for no other reason than to take me away from the need to have my voice heard.

I am one of five children, second to the youngest, and I'm the middle daughter. I had a great need to have my voice be heard when I was growing up, but I didn't say much. It was hard to get a word in. And besides, "Holly",my imaginary friend and diary, was such a good listener, and my father wasn't, and I didn't have any idea of who I was yet. So I didn't say much.

Then I married a beautiful quiet man (well, quiet in comparison to the loud, volatile family I had grown up in), and he had the time and was interested in wanting to know what I thought, how I felt. Along the way, these past 24 years, I started to grasp that God's love for me was a lot like my husband's love for me. God was opening my heart up and I started to pour out my thoughts and my hopes and...I didn't want to stop talking to Him, telling Him my dreams, trusting Him with my deepest thoughts.

I've grown and I'm not that quiet girl anymore. I've had no fear, these last number of years, about writing out my thoughts, talking out my ideas, expressing my wishes. I've been verbal and I've been emphatic and I've been expressive and I gesticulate a lot when I talk. But in the last couple months, I've gotten quieter. I'm not speaking monthly at Women's LIFE, like I was. I'm not sending out articles or trying to let my voice be heard. And I got weaned of the need to be heard.

Other than writing on my blog, I've been contemplative and quiet, a bit somber in my solitude but not sad, really. I might have been a tad depressed dealing with my son's absence at first, but then it turned into this extended Time Out period from God- and I didn't get put there specifically because I was bad and had acted up terribly. I know that. I think God put me in Time Out so that I would know the sound of His Voice and quit caring about the sound of my own.

I don't know whether I'm about to be taken out of this Time Out or whether I'll be in this cozy quietness for a while longer. But I don't feel hurt or betrayed by God- even if I might have at first. I had always read that Jesus spent a lot of time continually withdrawing from crowds in order to be alone with His Father, in prayer, in soul searing reflection. They were literal times of him kneeling on dry ground, in prayer, perhaps so that his heart would not become dull and dry.

I might not ever have a book published and my voice may just go as far as this blog. Then again, it could wind up shouting from mountain tops or across radio air waves. Who knows where and how God will let your voice be heard? I just know I have to give my all to hear His voice. And if I hear Him better holed up in my house, homeschooling my daughter, spending lots of time alone and in reflection- then so be it.

"It's ingrained in us that we have to do exceptional things for God- but we do not. We have to be exceptional in the ordinary things of life, and holy on the ordinary streets, among ordinary people- and this is not learned in five minutes," writes Oswald Chambers. I am an ordinary woman living an unnoticed life- for the most part- and yet my existence is noticed by the Creator of the Universe and His eyes are on me, so I'm all ears. It's His Voice that I want heard round the world, after all. His Voice.

Saturday

Ah, Saturday. It's a day of bliss and repose for Harry (the same as Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday...) but for me its a day to roll up the sleeves, plunge my hands into hot soapy water and clean- clean as though my life depended on it, clean with a vengeance, just clean!

I don't think there's any real spiritual value in cleaning house (meaning that you don't get extra credit with God), but I don't think cleaning lacks value. It lifts your spirit, sometimes, to tackle a job- such as the pots and pans in the sink- get it done, and know that you've accomplished something.

Because of the immense weight of national and international problems, you can sometimes think you have little to offer to this world. There are raging economic problems and complex political agendas and there's gaping needs in certain segments of the population and there's just plain greed and fraud in other segments. And then here I am with a messy house, a lazy dog, a world in need of such prayer, such help, that before I can even pray I feel overwhelmed, like what will my little prayers do for this big world?

And then that's when I feel like I haven't even addressed what I will do for my own little world I live in: will I clean it, at least? Can't I even try to make some order come out of the mess I sometimes live in?

Yes, I can, I tell myself soberly. I can do something about this little tiny bit of the world I live in. I can beautify it a bit, clean it up, make it cozy and warm and inviting. And if I do that, then when someone comes into my home, I might just minister to their spirit a little, calm their frazzled nerves with some hot tea and a nice chat on the couch (after pushing Harry off of it). I can do something about the world I live in. And having done something constructive about my little world, I might just sense that there's more I can do. I might believe that when I pray- when I apply myself to prayer because I believe He hears and answers them- something happens.

'Cause something just happened when I went to work, cleaning, scrubbing, rubbing. My hands went to work, yes; but my spirit started to see and believe that beauty can come out of a mess, hope can arise out of confusion, peace can come even though we live in a troubled world.

Wild Turkeys and Wisdom

This is exactly what I saw yesterday afternoon. Well, not in this caricature form- it was the real thing. A huge wild turkey was pounding away at the basement window of our house, looking like he was frantically trying to come into the house!

But I didn't know that this is what it was, at first. It was such a racket and such a pounding noise that I heard, that I soberly told Abby, "Wait here, and if I don't come back up in five minutes, call 911". I was going to go downstairs and check out what I heard. I honestly thought it was either a bold thief or that the UPS guy had gotten stuck in my garage or something and was hysterically pounding on the door.

So I went downstairs and there in front of me was this huge wild turkey. I have to tell you that they are the most ridiculous looking of all birds: tiny, tiny head, flubbery red thing rolling around their neck, huge wings waving but getting them no where really- just short little distances. This turkey was apparently in a crazed panic, that's all I could think. While the others (there were about twenty of them in my backyard) kept their distance and strolled around the yard eating whatever specks they saw on the ground, this bird was slamming himself against the window and going for...what? Did he think if he came into the house that I would offer him a cup of tea and a foot massage? This silly bird's cousin was going to be on our Thanksgiving dinner table in another month or so! So why was he approaching our house and pounding on the window to come in?

The things we do when we're flustered- you don't want to know. We've all been there. If I get upset and panicky, I lose all sense of the ground under my feet. I know all about flapping my wings only to get a few inches further into my panic than I already am. I know all about persistent, frantic action that not only gets me no where but actually takes me into dangerous territory. So when I looked at that wild turkey repetitively pounding himself against the window, I thought, you poor silly thing. Please, God, don't let that be me.

I had actually just quoted this verse to a friend recently, and it suddenly came back to me, "He who walks with the wise grows wise, but a companion of fools suffers harm" (Prov 13:20). I had mentioned this verse to my friend when we were discussing how to choose the right advisors, the right financial experts, to listen to. In this crumbling economy, how do you know who really has the right advice? Nobody knows what tomorrow will bring. Yet there's the sense that we have to do what we can, when we can, to preserve our assets and protect what little we may have. That's why everyone's sense of alarm is up. Some of us are so riled up by panic that we could look crazy and act rashly. I don't want to do that. And Mr. Turkey was kind enough to remind me of that.

I think the Wise are those who do walk, and not race about frantically. The Wise are able to take step by step through dangerous and critical times because they don't carry the weight of the world-or the future of the world- on their shoulders. They walk with Him, the One who holds the future. And anyone who knows Him well can walk steadily when the times get crazy and people start to act like wild turkeys.

Thanks to Mr. Turkey, I have gotten a picture of what I could look like if I "lose" it. I don't want to lose it. I don't want to panic or fear. I want to walk, wisely, and trustingly- even if I have to keep taking a deep breath every step I take.

At the Sound of His Voice

Harry is no longer in mourning. The daily accidents have stopped. He's no longer looking depressed as he lies on the couch, just sleepy and bored. He'll come up to us now and put a paw on our lap and sit there waiting for us to do something. "You want to go out?" I'll ask him, hoping he'll do his potty time outside instead of these erratic and pungent episodes he'd been having indoors.

But no, he doesn't want to go out. Now, instead, he's bringing us into the living room where his stuffed orangutang is lying on the carpet. He looks up at us and then throws the orangutang into the air and starts horsing around. He wants to play. Harry wants to play because he's happy and no longer mourning over our son's absence.

This happened, I think, because of us skyping with our son on Friday nights. We go into Alex's old bedroom which has been semi converted into an office. We all sit in front of the computer screen with the little camera on it and then -presto- Alex comes on the screen and his voice fills the room.

Harry can't actually see Alex. They say dogs can't see TV or computer screen images. But Harry hears Alex's voice. He hears Alex say, "Ha-a-a-r-ry! How ya doing!" Harry looks around the room, his floppy ears alert and inching upwards in anticipation of seeing Alex. He still won't see Alex for another month or so, but he's heard his voice. Just hearing Alex's voice every Friday night has changed Harry's disposition from gloomy melancholy to joy and prancing around the house.

Now Harry is daily playing with the orangutan, which is really Alex's old stuffed animal. We took it out of Alex's boxed up things and gave it to Harry the week after Alex left for college. Harry looked at it and then sighed. Several weeks later he was still just looking at the stuffed orangutan. But now, in the last couple weeks, he plays with that thing daily. I mean really plays with it- tossing it in the air, chewing on it like a steak bone, and then ferociously growling while he whirls it around the room. Oh, he's fierce. He's alive. He's out of mourning- all because he has heard the sound of his master's voice.

And that reminds me that maybe that's all I need too, to go from mourning to dancing around the room like I have no cares at all. I don't need to "see" God or see how He is going to work everything out. I just have to listen, hearken unto Him- if you want to get all King James-y. And when I hear His voice echo in my heart, everything in me perks up and my bones feel strong and I feel alive and willing to be fiercely steadfast in my faith.

Get Home Safely

I'm trying to figure out how to do this: my niece is getting married at the end of November down in Nashville, and my son will be coming home for Thanksgiving break right about that time. Do I fly him home as I am flying down to the wedding? Should we all drive down to Nashville, then slip on over to Kentucky, pick him up, and then head home? Will Bill be able to get away from work (and thank God He has work right now) or should I just fly down with Abby?

The key thing is we need to celebrate our niece/godchild's wedding but we also are trying to figure out how to get Alex home; how to get him home safely.

I'm about to head out to my daughter's rec basketball game this afternoon and then I'm going to do one of my favorite things, as of late: grocery shopping. I don't know why it ministers to my soul so much, but so much goes through my mind as I shop for food: thank God we have money to buy food, thank God we have such abundance to choose from, remember last Thanksgiving and how rich and full we felt?, and oh, I can't wait to see my son and cook for him and hug him tightly. Thinking of cooking for my son makes think of all the ingredients I need for bread, for cakes, for my special chili recipe. I whiz through the grocery store with zeal and feel like a kid in a candy shop.

I have a favorite bagger that I look for. His name is Dan. I try to get in the check out line where Dan is the bagger because he's so sincere, so invigorated to do this simple job of packing the groceries carefully in bags-paper or plastic. He might be slightly handicapped concerning his IQ but there is nothing limiting about his joy and his vigor as he packs the groceries and always, always asks me if I need help out to the car. The day I looked at his name tag and answered, "No thanks Dan. I'm all set," he beamed with joy as someone said his name. That's all I did. But he felt significant and important. He wasn't just a bagger- he was Dan, the greatest bagger there is. And that's why I look for him.

I also look for a certain guy at the deli counter. He's farther away from me and maybe its my old aged memory or my bad eyesight, but I haven't been able to read his name tag. But I do know this about him- he's a loving, caring man, and maybe a father. I think that because this is what he says every single time I have taken my package of sliced cheese or honey ham as he hands it over the counter: "Get home safely." He doesn't say thanks for shopping, or have a nice day or come back again. No, he says, "Get home safely." I always feel loved and blessed when he says that to me. There might even be days where I really don't need any honey ham or sliced turkey and yet I am still waiting at the deli counter looking for the man who speaks about our desire to get home where we are safe and loved.

I think of my son far away at college and I care about his journey through life, his journey back home to us for Thanksgiving. I care about any fellow traveler who feels like life is hard and the terrain too rough for them to handle. And even if my words are powerless to improve your journey, my prayers are not. Your prayers are not. So keep on praying. And don't forget to bless someone today with a little benediction that I learned from the man at the deli,

Get home safely, friend.