Loud and Clear

Well my dear blog friends, for those of you faithfully dropping by here to see if I have gotten going on my intention to make things "loud and clear" here at FAITH FUEL, the answer is No, I am not yet at the point of broadcasting live or vlogging, but I haven't been silenced either. Sometimes when you're trying to break through into doing something new and you haven't completely succeeded, you can at least say you haven't stopped trying.

And you know why I'm trying to make a change in how I get my messages to you? Because certain people in my life are prodding me to do this and I have been resisting as though they were asking me to jump into a pool of alligators. I like writing down my thoughts and my struggles and my "lightbulb moments" of sudden illumination that I share with you all here; and I love speaking at Retreats and Conferences and Bible Studies. But to speak out into the blog world and try bringing you some words of encouragement in that manner- well, I would; I mean I'm not against doing that; but really, is that what I should be doing? (Can you hear the resistance?!)

My husband, Safety Bill, has been telling me that Change is in the Air. He says he can almost smell change coming, that it smells like something fresh and new. I don't smell anything. Well, other than Harry, who is in desperate need of a bath and total mowing- I mean, grooming. The only thing I sense is that I'm used to writing my thoughts and I'm used to posting them quietly. The only way you'd hear my posts is if you read them out loud. And now I've got a bit of prodding to change things, change the way I do things. Change the way I come across to you, how I come across to you.

But the key thing is that we do cross over- from resistance to cooperation, from fear to faith, from old ways of doing things to new ways of doing things. I don't even think you have to know exactly what you are doing when you start to make concrete changes in your life. Nobody would make changes if they waited till they were exactly sure of what they were doing!

I'm never exactly sure of what I'm doing- it's more like I'm sure of what- or Who- is motivating me to make the changes that I will eventually not be sure of. Does that make sense? I'm sure that God is behind the prodding for these changes. And actually, I'm sure God is behind not so much the changes themselves, but the willingness I need to have to make these adjustments and turning points.

God looks for bendable people. Flexible, bendable people are not willy nilly in their convictions- they're just open to how their convictions will be carried out. They know that when all is said and done, things just might look completely different than when they first started out on their new journey to Change.

Maybe you feel impressed to take a certain path, pursue a certain job, and you're just about to reach out and lay hold of it when- poof- it almost seems to evaporate. The offer is withdrawn; someone else gets the job. Maybe a serious relationship that you thought for sure was going to lead to a proposal of Happily Ever After is now a relationship crumbling into the dust. Maybe the Answer that you fasted and prayed for is now turning out to not exactly be the answer you were looking for. But, hold on! Don't throw the baby out with the bath water!

"Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known." (1 Cor. 13:12) Sometimes we only get part of the picture; sometimes we get a partial revelation of what God is doing but then we add to that partial our idea of what's happening. We need to get used to saying "I only know in part, but I can fully obey God." God is after our willingness to pursue Him and His will in all things. He knows we only see in part, but He's got the full picture. He will lead, and keep leading you, into the fullness of His will and His abundance.

Stumble about, if you have to- but at least stumble forward. Stumble into change. Thrash and flail about it, but do it anyway. That's what I'm doing. My techno-son is helping me make this transition with changes coming to my blog and website. My husband is prodding me. My friend Scott who has a ministry going through changes is encouraging me to get going. And most of all, God is calling me to enter into the Transition Time with gusto and excitement for the new things He has ahead. I don't really know what the changes I make now will lead to in the future. But I do know that my willingness to change- to move with God- will definitely keep me hearing Him calling me onward- and I will hear Him loud and clear.

The Last Post and The First Step

Okay, so we are finally here at this moment of saying...well, not so much "good-bye", but "God Speed, my friend". I hope you don't mind that I dragged out getting to this point of the last post. I needed time to ease out of this and ease my heart over parting with blogging...for now.

It's the last post, but its the first step. It's my chance to decompress and de-web-ize myself. It's the first step back to anonymity and quietness and another step towards being still and knowing that, yes, He is God. He's in control. He's not that far away. Closer than you think. He makes us able to close doors and open new ones...without fear.

For those visiting, ironically perhaps, for the first time here, I'd like to suggest you browse through my old posts topically. Faith Fuel is still here to encourage, inspire, and help revive your faith, your confidence that God loves you and is looking out for you.

On the right side here, you can look through all my posts by clicking on the topic that most interests you. Whatever I share, and whatever I have shared, I do -and did- with the desire that you feel your faith being revived- if you ever feel weary.

And now I'm off to experience the abundant life. I'm pressing onward. I trust you all will too. And if I ever get stirred up to start a new blog, you can be sure I will post here any updates- in the future- if that should happen.

For now, I'm off to experience some quiet time. It isn't my voice that you need anyhow. His voice will always ring out clearly. It's amazing how sometimes you can even hear God in the most unusual of places, and at critical times.

I have loved chatting with you all. You all know that I'll miss you, my blog friends.

And now, I'm off, heading onward, higher, and always taking that first step... every single day.

Greetings from Somewhere Near the Yukon

Every year I have more admiration and empathy and respect for my parents, who raised five very different and opinionated children who are now extremely different and highly opinionated adults.

On top of all that child rearing, my dad was a fifth grade teacher. He taught young squirmy pre-pubescent kids for over 30 years. So on those days when he'd come home from school in a particularly bad mood, and something we did set him off, and he'd yell, "That's it, I'm leaving! I'm going to the Yukon"- I didn't blame him in the least. For wanting to leave. I just didn't understand the attraction that the barren Yukon had for him.

But I have had my days where I was ready to leave my house in a mess, my kids in their bad mood, and get me to someplace- anyplace- as long as it wasn't stuck where I was. So I began to understand the attraction the Yukon had for my Dad. Not to mention the fact that I got interested in the Iditarod and found the idea of racing sled dogs in an icy wilderness a most attractive idea.

But just to let you all know, I am not going to the Yukon. Not exactly. I am not marching off in a huff or in a disgruntled mood or even in a sense of relief that I get to get away from the blogging world. (Okay, I take that back- I think there is a little bit of relief at the idea of getting away from the Blogging world and getting very quiet and very unknown, if only for a little bit of time).

Instead of me marching off to the vast Unknown, think of me sailing off in a canoe, dozing and relaxing, while I wind up getting further away from shore and unafraid to do so. I'm sailing into Change, into Closure, into something way better than the Yukon. It's just that I don't know what it is called.

Beginnings and Endings and the Important In-Between

It's not unusual, that at a time that everything and every one is off to a fresh start (my son back at college down south, my daughter at a new public high school) , that I feel in need of one myself. A fresh start. It's like I'm an overgrown flowering plant, and I need a pruning and dead-heading (I believe that's what its called- not sure, because I don't have a green thumb. My nickname is plant killer).

I have loved writing this blog, and have never regretted the name of the blog. We all need fuel for our faith. We need shots of inspiration and doses of encouragement and buckets of grace to live a victorious life.

But lately, I just have this feeling like I am stuck in a rut, with not only my writing, but also what I write about. Sometimes I feel like there are new avenues for me to explore and I am holding on to too many things, too many roads that I've already traveled.

Faith Fuel is not ending. Not yet, at least. Not today at least. But I can't say that I will always be here, under this title, with that little fireplace widget flaming and brightening the page. I think there's new subjects, deeper explorations of various intriguing life matters that I may want to get into.

I'm getting old. But I don't want to age. I don't want to get set in my ways or set in stone, or God forbid, forget that when the stone was rolled away,that Life burst forth and is calling us onward, upward, higher...and to new terrain.

At the Car Wash

Continuing on with paradoxes and the problems and peculiarities associated with paradoxes, Harry desperately needs to go to the groomer- and the groomer is the last place he should go right now. Harry is too anxious to be separated from me for even one moment. I know this for a fact. The way Harry handles problems is to completely reveal how upset he is in whatever way seems natural to him. That's all I'll say there. He's a wreck.

But he's always been a sensitive dog. That's why he had three owners and one foster mother before he came to be our sweet furry boy. Sensitive dogs (and people) need sensitivity. And Life just doles out punches, kicks, hard times, good times, anxious times, Instability. Harry feels unstable. Yet he's matted, needs a good bath and a complete clipping- and he'd need to go to that dreaded place, the groomers, to get it all done.

Hmmm. What should I do? I'm tempted to ask the pet store where he goes to get clipped if I could leave him in the grooming room, yet croon a soothing tune to him over the store loudspeaker and see if my voice keeps him calm enough to bear the unbearable.

I got my car oil changed yesterday, and that means my car got a free car wash at the same time. I just love the place where I take my car- they made it so easy to get routine work done on your car by sweetening the venture with free hot coffee, news on the overhead T.V. in the waiting room, and then a free car wash after your oil is changed. I always watch the car go through the different stations and never tire of the seeing the process of something grimy transforming into something sparkling clean.

The last small chunk of snow in my front yard is about to disappear today. The sun is out and it should get warm enough today (in the 40's?) to melt that last bit of winter away. I feel like a kid again with all the possibilities that Spring brings. I hope to impart that sense of hope and excitement to Harry- enough to get him through the process of being transformed, himself, from smelly matted dog to the clipped little lamb that he is. At least in my eyes he is. I see him for the sweet sensitive soul that he is.

What we have to go through in order to become sweet smelling and beautiful may be a bit arduous. I think of the different brushes and cleaning wands and hanging cloths at the car wash whirling around and soaping and buffeting the car and then buffing it until its clean and I can feel like that car at times. There can be an agony and an angst as all this buffing and cleaning and purifying goes on.

Perhaps as we go through the process of getting cleaned up, God delights in not only seeing what emerges in the end, but in how beautiful the process, in and of itself, is. It's called Transformation. Redemption. Renewal. Hope.

And if we can see this process as a beautiful one, it just might be because we can hear God's voice whispering to us, or even singing to us over the heavenly loudspeaker, even as we're getting buffeted and cleaned and blessed enough to come out of the mess into the Son shine.

What I Know

Between painting the master bedroom and putting in new carpet (which is what my husband wanted to do when we first got ready to move into this house when we bought it over 3 years ago, and I, unwisely, wanted to rush to move in and told him "we can do it later"), our main floor of this house looks like a disaster.

I was thinking of taking photos and posting them here and then decided, why humiliate myself?! It's an absolute mess: dressers in the living room, the mattress and box spring standing up near the kitchen and who knows where my sock drawer is?! (My feet are cold).

The good news, though, is that I have this short time period where everything is a mess because it is soon going to be beautiful. So I'm not upset about the mess or really bothered by things. I know things have to be this way, for a very short bit, and then I know that things will be the opposite of this dismal chaotic mess I see. Things will be beautiful, shortly.

I wish we had these kind of clear timetables when it comes to God's will, the timing of things we hope for, the state of our prayers (unanswered? heard? in limbo?). What we all want to know is
Is everything going to be all right? And how soon before we get this (temporary) Everything is All Right feeling that lets us know we're okay, God's in control, the mess is in front of us- but it will all be well, shortly- even if our feet are, right now, very cold.

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.

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.

In the Land of Hope

We didn't really want to go there, yesterday, but we did. Bill, Abby and I talked about hope, for some reason, as we drove there. Abby brought up that word. She's amazingly instinctive and even a bit prophetic at times- for a 14 year old. So when we arrived at the church that we were going to visit that day, we carried that word with us as we went inside: hope, that we would be glad to say that we had gone to the house of the Lord, hope that we would feel "included" and not like wandering, uninvited strangers crashing a party, and hope that we would leave there...changed.

There was a part of me bucking and rearing deep inside, like a bull out of the chute. I did not want to go through "all this" again. If you care about being in fellowship with other Christians, if you want to find a church "home" as we call it, there's nothing worse for a disguised introvert like me than to walk into new settings where you supposedly should feel immediate love and bonding with the people there- because they're Christians.

But Christians can be mean, resistant to outsiders, rude, or cold. I should know- I'm one of them. I have my days and my moments and my seasons, even, where I am not in love with other Christians at all. You could even say that I get tired of these people, tired of our rules or our Agenda or our strange culture of love and grace and grim faced judgment. We want to be gracious and kind and above all meanness and spite- but we are not. I am not. I hate that about myself and when I go into a church I see people like me who are trying to get above it all, trying to see Him in all His reality- so that our reality changes.

So we went inside. And we were not sorry that we did. We were welcomed by people, but more than that, the presence of the Holy Spirit was strong, heavy, like a comforting blanket that descended from the heavens. We'd heard that this church was not exactly the most seeker sensitive, meaning that it expressed itself in fervent outspoken worship, sudden cries coming from people who call out the Name above all Names, behavior that is not staid and riveted to the seats in decorum and human nobility. I was quiet in my seat, but comfortable with all that was going on around me. I didn't know what I would hear next, what I would experience next , and I was so glad for that.

We left the church and drove home quieter in thought than when we had arrived. Did we find our church home? I don't know yet. But I do know that I was touched and I was changed. I went in there with my invisible shroud of hurt and guardedness. I left there reminded that I was not allowed to keep that shroud on. I have no right to dwell in the land of mistrust and suspicion and reservations.

"Enlarge the place of your dwelling..." Isaiah 54:2 begins. I believe that where I am to dwell is the Land of Hope. And my dwelling in this land is supposed to increase and spread out. Because these three remain- faith, hope, and love, the Bible tells us. Hope is wedged right in the middle, I think, because our faith in His love for us should cause Hope to arise and spread out, like the smile that suddenly appears on my face because He surprised me again. He always does.

Read the Headlines

I wonder if we Americans are really in touch with the raging undercurrent of economic anxiety this nation is feeling. This past week I was dealing with my own situational concerns: a son sick with potential pneumonia based 13 hours away at college, a highly sensitive dog who had to be clipped down to the skin at the Groomers, a home schooled teenage daughter in need of more social interaction and who was just plain tired of me being her teacher- after only three weeks of home schooling.

I was aware of the news headlines, the dire straights that certain banks were in, the predicament that we all are in- but I couldn't do anything about these big, huge economic concerns. My own concerns were in front of me, and I was just trying to figure out what was required of me. What was I supposed to do, and what was I supposed to let God handle?

In the end, I saw my son miraculously recover from what would normally have taken chest x-rays and antibiotics to deal with. I saw my daughter end the school week yesterday with a smile on her face after a jaunt to the local mall with a friend and then an easy supper of pizza and wings where Bill, Abby and I enjoyed what I call our "happy meal" and Harry calls his sad meal- because he doesn't get a scrap of anything. When I say that this dog is delicate, you have no idea. The least bit of a change to his diet, and we all know in a very pungent way that he can't handle the change.

The changes in our nation right now are so upsetting and nauseating to so many that I imagine many have not been able to sleep or eat, much less have a happy meal. Our family already lives at a higher risk level than some families do because my husband is self-employed, we have no pension or retirement fund, and we've journeyed this way for so long now that I am used to the constant underlying pressure of living close to the edge financially. I don't enjoy it nor do I ever welcome it with open arms, but I have fully accepted that this is how we travel, so to speak- a bit like vagabonds living in a comfy suburban world with strange, out-of-this world beliefs that are best expressed in verses from melodies like "God will make a way, where there seems to be no way" and "Jehoval Jireh, My Provider, His Grace is sufficient for me".

But I still feel the tension and the wobbliness of what's going on nationally, economically, politically. There's a great amount of fear in our nation that's trying to go undetected so that the tidal wave of crisis and change doesn't become unnecessarily bigger than what it has to be. I think we want to be brave and stoic but many of us feel vulnerable, at risk more than ever, and shaky- whether we're employed, retired, unemployed, self-employed or just starting out.

I think this might be a good place to be- in touch with reality, in touch with the fact that we've never been so high and mighty that we've eliminated Risk and secured the big Guarantee. We don't want to feel vulnerable, but since when have we not been exposed to situations bigger than our control, mountains seemingly impossible to climb, rough choppy seas that should overwhelm a tiny boat?

This is walking-on-water time. Being in your little boat isn't any safer when you're in the midst of a turbulent, thrashing storm. I think walking on water may just be the thing we were born to do. It may just be exactly what God has called us to do- anytime we are tempted to hold back and hole up. Instead, God says, Hold On...to Me.

Remembering What Counts

What a day. 9/11 is a day Americans will never forget, but it's also a day we don't particularly want to remember. Nobody wants to call upon sad or bad memories, painful times, days of trouble and scarring just for the sake of remembering Pain. But for some, a bad memory or sad memory is still a way to link with someone you loved; its still a way to stay in touch with someone you lost.

Last night we were able to do some kind of video-cam thing on the computer where we could see our son and talk to him at the same time. The reception was a bit choppy and we sometimes missed each other's words, but the gist of our conversation was there. My son looked well and there was nothing like looking into those dark eyes of his and seeing life. He is loving what he is learning and I have to say- so am I.

I am learning that sometimes we go through a long rough period in the trenches where we are fighting a battle of some kind, and then when God takes you out of the trenches and gives you a leave of duty from the battle, you find yourself feeling a bit out of sorts. You think you were trained only for war (and Scripture does tell us that He trains our hands for war), and you forget that He also trains you to be quiet and at rest, and maybe I would add - a bit bored. Not that I always loved putting out fires, but I never realized how active, full-time mothering of a teenage boy was so exhausting. Exhausting and never boring.

It's not that my daughter is a complete walk in the park, but she is more compatible with my temperament, and we don't clash much. Being with her I find myself laughing a lot, chuckling over her funny sayings and her honest assessment of things. I don't have to threaten her that her savings will have to buy hair coloring for me because she is not turning me gray. But that-kid-who-turned-me-gray is my son, my first born, and I am aware that he took a big turn down a road leading away from me. And now I don't care that he made my hair go gray. I only care that he is well, that he is safe and sound.

I only care about a couple things right now, in my life. I cared about a lot more, a whole lot more, a year ago. But right now what matters to me is that my daughter has a happy year learning what an 8th grader should learn, that our dog recovers from his anxiety over missing Alex and wondering why that boy is not where he should be- which my dog considers is here, with us, in that messy room of his that is now so quiet and still.

I only care that the few things I have put my hand to are done with simple obedience, no drama, and no fanfare. Now I am getting close to understanding what that passage was about when the household servant was to have this attitude: "The servant should not get any special thanks for doing his job. He is only doing what his master told him to do. It is the same with you. When you do all the things you are told to do, you should say, 'We are not worthy of any special thanks. We have only done the work we should do" (Luke 17).

It's not a false humility. It's simply a realization that you are called to do certain things. They are laid out for you. There is a simple obedience required- and it is good for you to have things simplified down to the Necessary, the Good, the Essential. Too often we get caught up with the fluff and the frills and the failures of trying to produce these things. I've had enough failures to know that many of them happened because I was caught up in trying to produce something significant out of the banal, the trite, the stupid, if I really get honest with myself.

So God is freeing me up, in a way, by winnowing me down. It's the brass tacks of Obedience 101. God knows what He is doing, He has a way for us to take, and when we come forth we will be shining as gold, even if we don't see how we shine.

From a Distance

Everyone is home now. Bill and Abby arrived home late afternoon, yesterday. And Alex is settled in his new home, at college, far away. It feels surprisingly okay. After all, these last couple years we have seen less and less of him as he has gone out to concerts, stayed overnight at friends' houses, gone on short trips, worked a job. He has been growing up and leaving for college, in a sense, for a while now. It was talked about and planned for and then...it happened.

It's amazing how fast life goes, and also how agonizingly slow and long some days are- the painful days. Right now, these are happy days. I feel a bit sad, but I am not in severe pain over the loss and the separation. My son hasn't left us- he has just left home base for another base where he can continue on towards his dreams. That's what we want for him.

While Bill and Abby were gone, getting Alex settled into his dorm, I was here in an empty house filled with a lot of stuff. I had bags and boxes of things that we no longer needed or wanted or things that we have outgrown. So my sister, Sue, and I had a Garage Sale at her house. It was a great way to be busy and to thin out unnecessary things from our life.

It was hot and sunny and the people came in waves. It was also a lot of fun.

"A dollar!" became our answer for almost every inquiry of "How much is this?". We just wanted to get Stuff out of our life and make room for Love, for Change, for Moving Onward. Her oldest son was leaving to go back to his last year of college and we both were feeling a bit blue, a bit unsettled. So it was fun to be together and to meet so many interesting people.

And then I saw him- the most beautiful little baby boy. A chubby baby- as in pudgy dimpled arms and legs. I joked with the Mom who was holding him, "This is the only time in your life when rolls of fat look so good on you!". My sister and I remarked how adorable he was. The mother told us he was five months old. I looked at that little boy and thought of my little boy, now big, now grown, now gone. I think she saw longing in my eyes, because then she did something so unexpected. She suddenly reached out and placed her baby in my arms. Without a word. With a smile. A very knowing smile.

I held him close to me and my eyes welled up with tears. He was chubby and blond and fair skinned- not at all like my son was when he was a baby. But he was close to me. He was in my arms and not resisting. He was snuggled in close to me. And for one minute I felt such sweetness and such sadness that I couldn't speak. I had once held my son like this. More than once. Many, many times, many days, many years. And the years flew by.

And now I hold him close to me, but also from a distance.

"To everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under the sun...." (Eccl. 3:1)

Tears and Smiles

I think the dog may be more in tune with the reality of what's happening than I am. After all, Harry is not running around buying socks, shampoo, x-long twin sheets for those famously uncomfortable extra long beds in the dorms. Instead he is lying on my bed, half asleep,half mourning all the commotion, looking like a sweet lamb in a bit of distress.

The dining room table is our Grand Central: that's where lists and bags and more bags of stuff are being stored. That, and Alex's room- which is quickly filling up with more duffel bags of clothes and books and assorted things. We are packing up our son as if he is going off to the wilderness for four years. I am too busy managing and shopping and making lists to pay attention to what I may feel later...when he is gone.

The plan is this: early (very early) Wednesday morning, Bill will be doing last minute packing of the car (I already know this). Then Alex will wake up in a fog,put in his contacts, and root around the house looking for last minute things. Abby will get up last, and smile at me in anticipation of the adventure ahead: she is going also. There is a college connection type of day camp going on at the same time as the freshman orientation. She is going to take part. It is going to be a whirlwind of activity for the three of them for three days. And I will be here at the house, soothing Harry with lots of murmuring, "It's going to be alright" and lots of sighing- both his and mine.

For the five days Bill and Abby will be gone(three days in Kentucky settling Alex in and then two days traveling home), I will be wandering around this house in total peace and quiet. I intend to pray a lot, take Harry on lots of walks, read, and look out the window while my mind flashes back to the days when I was so needed in my son's life.

There's a bit of joy and peace I have in releasing him to his future because I do feel I have done all I could do in "launching" him. He would tell you, also, that there has been no shortage of words, on my part, no lack of admonitions, warnings, and reminders. I could wish that I had hugged him more these last couple years, but even there it seems that young men need fewer hugs and more looks of love, instead; the kind of look that says, "I want to hug you so badly right now but instead I'll look at you with such pride. You're a strong young man,...and I'm so glad you're my son."

My son will tell you that I give him all kinds of looks- those looks of love, looks of frustration, looks that yell out in warning, "That's one more box of hair coloring that you owe me!" every time he has turned me gray with worry. I think he may miss the looks I give him most of all. He certainly knows that I will call him a lot and we'll talk by phone.

But as for the look on my face when we're talking, he will have to imagine what that is. Most of the time it will be a look that says, "I'm missing you so much right now...but I wouldn't wish that you were home. You are right where you are supposed to be. And that makes me smile. " After all, tears and smiles go together quite frequently. At least in this household they do.

Everything Will Change

The dog is upset. I don't say that with much sympathy. I'm a bit frustrated with Harry right now. For the last six nights in a row, he has had an accident on the carpet, in the same spot, blatantly displaying his refusal to come and nudge us or bark in warning that he needed to go out. He didn't even try to get to the door to go out and do his business. No, it's like he has issued a warning to us that he is disturbed and emotionally troubled right now, and what better way to let us know that than with something so aromatically charged and obvious as his "business" right there before us where he has no business going?!

It could be that he can tell our son is leaving for college any day now. It may be that he senses all the commotion and packing and discussing is a sign that a big change is occurring- and he does not like change. He has made that very clear to us in the years we have had him.

"He's very delicate," my husband will say, in his defense.

"He's needy" my kids will offer up as an explanation of why he clings to us and shadows me everywhere I go in the house.

"He's a lot of work," I usually reply with an angry glare... and then a sigh signaling I am going to overlook his latest faux-pas. He is what he is: furry, fun, lovable and often a pain in the neck. But we adopted him from the Animal Rights Rescue group. We chose him to come live with us, for better or worse. And that's where we are right now, at one of those seasons where Harry is exhibiting his anxiety and confusion.

I myself have been having disturbing dreams, midnight wrestlings where I wake up and look at the clock reading 3am, and then battle all the "what if's" that suddenly come to mind. None of us are sad that Alex is leaving for college. We're excited for him. We're very hopeful about all that he is going to learn and experience. But we're a bit anxious about how life will be, now. Everything- and I do mean everything- is going to change.

Now there will be only three of us at the dinner table each night. The house will be quiet, except for the light humming along to music that Abby does. There won't be groups of guys coming over, saying "Hi Mrs. Caldwell!" while they hopefully eye the kitchen looking for chocolate cake or something freshly baked for them to eat. A big change will be that once Bill and I retire to our room to sleep, I will not lie there half awake as the night goes on, waiting for that knock on the door that signals my son's return home from whatever adventure he'd just had. When our daughter Abby goes to sleep (at a reasonable hour), she is out for the count, just like that. But our son is a night owl. And he doesn't always remember to let me know when he finally gets home. Many nights I have suddenly woken up with a start, run to his room to find him sprawled across his bed, and have heaved a sigh of relief. Now, when Bill, Abby (and even Harry) go to bed for the night, that's where everyone will be till dawn...in bed, safe and sound.

As to where my son will be every night, who knows?! He will be where he should be: at college, in his new world, carving out his life there with joy and probably some confusion. It will be a big change for him, having complete autonomy and jurisdiction over his life (other than the reminder phone calls that I do plan to make, reminding him to take medicine, reminding him to try-please try- and get some sleep, reminding him to eat vegetables and fruit and not just pizza and fries with cheese sauce all the time).

His leaving is not the only big change in our family's life. We are homeschooling Abby this year. We are also looking for a new church to be part of, one that is scaled down to the basics of fellowship, ministry, prayer. Many churches struggle in their quest to handle their growth. Sometimes they wind up wanting the supposed beauty of the business world where everything is efficient, successful, and organized. Management can become a key word, instead of Ministry. I'm at a point in my life where I have to scale back to the things that I know I need. I need to get to a place where I can fellowship with struggling Christians, with victorious Christians, with broken and confused Christians- 'cause I am all of those. Look me in the eye, and you'll see that. But we'll need to be face to face. We'll need to be real with each other.

Everything is changing. And change, for the most part, is stressful. But it is so needed. It signals that we're growing, that we're developing our gifts. It signals that we're releasing loved ones into their future. It means that we can't hold onto the past. We fumble around through change, and we often look ridiculous as we navigate the new paths before us. We are humbled as we have to ask for help, ask for advice from others who have gone before us. We are sometimes skittish and nervous, as Harry has been.

But it's all good. It really is. Or I should say it all works together for good- if we're flexible, if we admit that we have not gone this way before, if we look up and fix our eyes on the Author and Finisher of our Faith. He will make this new world we enter be above and beyond what we thought it could be. It will be a journey and a Challenge. And it will be alright.