Sheltered from the Storm

Last night was the first meeting of a group I've formed called Writers & Readers. Five of us gathered in my home, three Readers and two Writers. The idea for this group started after I had an "interesting" experience with an initial writers group I went to. I tried to join in there, I tried to grow, to learn and receive critique but the experience was rather like wading into the deep end of the shark-infested ocean with steak juice smeared all over you. After a couple times there, and feeling like I needed to toughen up some, I relayed my experience with this group to my best friend. Her response: DONT GO BACK THERE! Now, my friend "Mu" obviously likes me and didn't want to see me hurt or battered about, but more than that, she was concerned that I would lose all sense of accomplishment or ability if I went to a group that seemed to breed bitterness and frustration in the members and relished beating the hope out of any newcomer-writer that they could do anything right.

So Mu became my writers group: it was just us two meeting weekly over the months. Some would say that she was biased , being my best friend, and how could she offer good feedback and objective critique? But Mu always shoots pretty straight with me, and at the same time, has a way of couching all her critique in a crème brulée coating of tenderness (without the flame).

Also during this time, I picked up an interesting book about Toxic Feedback by Joni B. Cole. It's not just budding writers that have to worry about this problem because I've seen this everywhere: among sisters, among supposed best friends, at the workplace, in the Church, and even on the playground. Toxic Feedback is any kind of response to a question that sends a double message-- a sort of of yes followed by a debilitating No. It's a response that is meant to make you doubt yourself, or make you question your capabilities.

It seems like there are two kinds of people in this world with power: those who have the power to make you doubt yourself and those who have the power to encourage and build up. (There are those who don't do either, but then that's why they don't affect your life). It's not like you have to lie and fudge and gloss over reality in order to encourage someone when giving a critique. There's always something of value in any man's work; you can always find something positive or noteworthy to highlight. You don't always have to go for the jugular--unless you're the kind of person who feels stronger when you make others feel smaller.

So this new group met last night, and boy did we have fun! It helps that we had lots of chocolate and coffee and tea. And it didn't matter that one member got stuck in our snow crowded driveway. And even though the women didn't all know each other, we felt like instant friends within minutes. We were there to discover new talent, to hear the beginning of a story, to approve the good, to note the noteworthy, to concentrate on spurring one another onward. We had a great time; so much so, that we ran late.

I keep thinking about all the things my Dad did right, lately. As he becomes a man softened by age, less powerful in stature, the things of his life are evident: the five children he raised, the players he coached, the students he taught, the message he continually spoke. In our home, you weren't allowed to criticize someone without first giving two compliments. It was my Dad's way of tempering the harshness of the dagger we wanted to throw at someone first. Usually we'd toss out something like "Your hair is nice, you've got got nice teeth- but you're a jerk for taking stuff from my room!!" It kind of defeated Dad's purpose, the way we'd rush through the two compliments to get to the meat of our criticism or attack.

But I know what he was getting at--I see this now, more than ever. There's a great need in this world for safe places and safe people. We have shelters (and not enough of them) for battered women. But there are too few shelters for battered souls. Real Encouragement is needed--not the frosting of random compliments. Encouraging someone has to do with noting their heart's desire to use talents and gifts to the best of their ability. It's pointing out what they did right-- or what they wanted to achieve, even if they didn't. It's seeing beyond--and in spite of--the flubbed attempt. It's seeing behind the string of dis-attached words, the very meaning... the message they were hoping to convey.

To the Point

A couple years ago when my husband Bill was doing some carpentry work for this sweet Italian man named Vic, Bill came home from work one day with a little saying of Vic's that we still use to this day. Bill had been telling him about a project he was working on and how he was almost done with it. Vic slapped him vigorously on the shoulder and said, "Good for you!"- but he meant this. He really did.He was beaming as he said it. His eyes lit up, Bill said.

Now Bill and I say this a lot. Over little accomplishments and big ones. To our children, to our friends. It's probably the modern day equivalent of that Scripture verse about rejoicing with those who rejoice.

I like things that get right to the point; sayings that are short and sweet... and powerful.

Back when I was pregnant with my son and we were living up in the White mountains of New Hampshire, there was another sweet, funny man in our life- Mr. Kaminsky. He lived below us on a little hill- you could see his house from our picture window. We had a hyper Springer Spaniel named Spenser who got loose quite frequently or would pull out of our grasp and go running through the streets and jump on people. But Mr. Kaminsky loved Spenser, and every morning there Mr. Kaminsky would be, tottering on his cane, very unsteady on his feet, standing out in his front yard and calling up to us, "Let 'em go!! Just let him go!!"

That's what we say to each other when we're flooded with worries or concerns- "Let em go!" That's what we encourage our loved ones with when they've got that anxious look on their face- "Just let 'em go!"

And then this week, I read Anne Lamott's Bird by Bird for the umpteenth time. I told Bill I'm in love with Anne Lamott. She can say the most brilliant of things in the most self effacing way. She gets right to the point about things, and in dealing with her own insecurity and pettiness, she touches on mine. Like the way she talks about criticism and how some people relish giving it to you. If someone is "too strident or adamant, ditch the sucker," she says, only partially tongue-in-cheek.

Then she shares the story of how she went shopping for a dress to wear on a date, and her friend Pammy went with her. Pammy was dying of cancer, in a wheelchair, wearing a wig. Annie kept trying on dresses , asking what every normal woman asks, "Do you think this makes my hips look too big?" and Pammy answered, short and sweet, to the point- "Anne? I really don't think you have that kind of time."

It just might be that these three pithy sayings are all you need to respond to someone. No matter what the problem is, what you're facing, what you're rejoicing over, what you're going through, one of these saying is appropriate.

For those celebrating today, for those who've won a victory- "GOOD FOR YOU!!"

For those of my readers overwhelmed with worries- "Let 'em go! Just let 'em go!!"

And for anyone dealing with spiraling morale or diminishing confidence, or for those questioning their sanity or capability (like I am), just look in the mirror and admonish yourself, "I really don't think you have time for that."

Sunlight, Grace, and Itchy Skin

I woke up at midnight, itching all over, having gone to bed early last night, at 9:30pm. I'm sure that the itching was not just a reaction to sunscreen, sun light, and bug bites. I do have a problem every summer with adjusting to direct sunlight and I seem to get a type of skin poisoning where I itch all over and feel like I want to tear my skin off. It's a lovely feeling, let me tell you.

The first time this happened was when I was in Spain, at the age of 14. We were there on a two week vacation- my mom and dad and younger sister and myself. I laid out by the hotel pool one day and soaked in all the sun- and then later in the day went back to the room and started to writhe in agony as my skin reacted violently to the sun. I'm not a pale skinned blond, and I don't know why I suddenly couldn't handle all the sun.

So last night, after we got home from visiting with some friends (sitting outdoors in their backyard and eating fruit and talking and talking), I went to bed a little itchy, fell asleep, and woke up a LOT itchy. Maybe I had gotten a few more bug bites. Maybe it was adding in more sun exposure. And maybe it's the new soap we are using in the shower, cause we ran out of the gycerin Bath and Body Works soaps that we always use. I don't know what it was, but my skin was reacting.

But I didn't wake up just because of my skin itching all over. I also woke up because my mind was alert and stimulated by the honest and invigorating conversation my husband and I had earlier that day with our friends. I ate the cherries and strawberries that they beautifully laid out on a tray, and I ate up the honesty and the candor of our conversation. It's not so much that we aired our dirty laundry as it was that we all admitted we had dirty laundry that needed airing. We had "issues" and we all knew we did. But we're working on our issues. And we smiled at each other in relief of knowing that, really, that's all you can do. The sense of relief and lack of pretense was precious. Powerful. And I didn't know that it meant great grace was there.

When I say I'm "working" on my issues, on my deep seated thought patterns that are helpful and not so helpful- I mean it. It is work. It's a type of labor that goes against the norm of maintaining status quo. I'm changing the way I look at things, the way I frame my questions, the way I see myself, even.

On the other hand, I'm also recently consciously practising a type of non-work- which I now realize is called grace- where I deliberately don't allow myself to strain and strive in order to accept good things. And this is where the itchy skin comes in.

Sometimes Grace is so against the norm of what we humans think we should receive, that it's like getting too much sunlight. Grace can make you itchy, uncomfortable, fidgety. Flowing in a state of grace is rare. I think people who grasp what grace is expect to find it mysteriously powerful and almost overwhelming- like the way sun light can actually overwhelm your body if you get too much of it.

There are warnings when it comes to taking in the sun. There's sun burn and sun poisoning and even skin cancer. Watch out for too much sun light. But when it comes to Grace, can there be such a thing as too much? When the Bible mentions about "great grace" being "upon them all"- did it cause problems? Itching? Fidgeting?!

What would happen if we lavished grace on people, problems, and predicaments? What would happen if we gave ourselves grace when we hit a wall? What would happen if we were quick to give grace? What would happen if we admitted that we're still a bit fuzzy on what Grace is? I'm sure that we would have to keep redefining what grace is, just like I have to keep figuring out what is really making my skin react, cause there's so many things the skin reacts to.

Grace comes in a variety of expression and flavors. Grace changes how you react in a situation. I think grace is a balm that calms inflamed situations, shattered self esteem, and raw emotions. Grace doesn't just blanket things and hide their reality- instead, it helps you to cope and see the thing that scares you.

And maybe grace doesn't mean that no one is wrong or that nothing needs to be done. Rather, grace could mean "we've got a lot of work to do, this is a mess, and boy is this itchy and agonizing." Then Grace becomes the hand that restrains yours from scratching your skin so hard that you hurt yourself- even though Grace is also what is making you so itchy and fidgety.

Maybe I came home from our time spent with our friends, feeling like I had been more honest than I had cautiously intended to be. I was itchy and uncomfortable because I had been seen, known, and loved- warts and all. My friends drew me in with their accepting love and their own candid sharing. But then more than that, great Grace was upon us. So we all dared. We all shared. And even though we knew we couldn't really handle too much of it, we took a step closer to the Son light.

Stale Marshmallow Bunnies and New Thoughts on Grace

The marshmallow bunnies are all on clearance and there's rainbow colored jelly beans everywhere you look. Easter is over. We're in the midst of Spring. This should be a bright sunny season of our life. But just because its Spring and just because Christ rose from the dead and we can, potentially, have a life of victory and overcoming power, doesn't mean we do. Well, we do- and we don't. It's that already-but-not-yet syndrome of the Christian life that we're always wrestling with.

Just because I celebrated Christ's resurrection on Sunday, doesn't mean that I live a life of new thoughts, new hopes and new dreams. I don't. A lot of old stuff creeps into my life and I deal with moldy thoughts and decaying dreams. I sort through a lot of stuff, mentally, and am always trying to figure out what is outdated, what is lost or futile, and what is locked in lack of grace. I should probably be concentrating on more on where the grace is, where the light is- but its human nature to mourn and regret and look back.

I'm reading Jon Katz's latest book and its beautiful and sweet and troubling. He had a troubled childhood. He loves animals. He's a gifted writer. So what results from that combination is a story about his life on a farm with his animals and the underlying feelings and memories we have when we're stroking the top of our dog's head, or feeling soothed by their weight as they lean against us, sighing with contentment. We're comforted by our animal companions, but we're sometimes enjoying their companionship while feeling alone at the same time because these pets know nothing of the weight of pressures and responsibilities we face.

My dog, Harry, is usually contented and at rest. He lives to be near me- and if I'm not available, he'll take my husband or kids as second choice. He mourned my son's absence for a while- when he went off to college- but now Harry has adjusted to the changes in our household.

That's the key thing- isn't it?- adjusting to the changes that take place in our life, however small or large they may be. Seems to me that those who are agile and quick to adjust to change do better than those of us who wrestle with why the change is occurring instead of getting with the reality that Change has occurred.

If you're going through a trial or challenge right now, a dog's warm furry body pressed against you as you stare vacantly out a window might comfort you some. But it can't take away the feeling of weight or worry. And meditating on the power God has to raise the dead can help you lift your eyes and ask Him for help- but it can't take away the scenario you face. You're going to walk through the valley of the shadow of death: maybe death of a dream or a hope you had, maybe death of innocence or naivete, or maybe its the death of a plan you had to get you someplace- any place but where you are.

I take comfort in the fact that for everyone who heard the news of Christ's resurrection, there was disbelief, a sense of incredulity, doubt even, and denial. How can it be? How can LIFE occur when all is lost, gone, or without breath? How can I think it's not over when I was told it's all over?

God likes to rattle our cages. He loves to cheer up the downtrodden. And He especially likes to prove me wrong when I tell Him I'm too weary to get excited about anything because life is too uphill.

That's when God turns the tables, turns my world upside down, and makes me go flying deliriously downhill like a skier shooting down the mountain- only now its not a terrifying trip but a coasting down over the very mountains that I had just been trying to climb. God decides when you can't take anymore- and He's a very good judge of our actual abilities to cope.

And when we feel like we're at the edge of what we can stand, He has an experience in mind that changes what we think about ourselves, our God, our trial, our life. It's an experience of grace. And it will be there when you need it most.

Get with the Plan!

A roaring fire in the fireplace and mugs of hot tea and real, true fellowship- what more could you ask for? Nothing more. It was enough for me; more than enough.

Yesterday afternoon was one of those experiences that become a deep, good memory that you later will draw upon- if you remember and fix it in your soul, if you take it in and feast upon it while it is happening. And that's what I did. I just kept gulping in all the warmth in the room like a woman drinks in a mug of hot tea on a day when everything is so cold. Two wise women, experienced in living long and loving God, invited me into their home again, and into their hearts. They connected me with a new friend, an old acquaintance really, who understood some of the journey "issues" that I've been dealing with.

There was such warmth in the room, such sharing and transparency, that my spirit felt fed and fattened with gladness. Later I thought of the verse, My soul shall be satisfied as with marrow and fatness, and my mouth shall praise You with joyful lips (Ps 63:5). That's how rich a time it was.

And that just shows how previously dry and bony I felt. Frustration will do that to you. Frustration will suck the life out of you till you feel as dry and thin as a toothpick. Now, I knew I was going through a frustrating time these last months. I knew I was battling the leanness of soul that you can feel when you don't understand what God is doing with all the 'No's" He's saying to you. You want to believe God for "more" but you start to get to the point that you think the "more" has to do with "more problems, more trouble ahead". So you put up a flashing warning sign in your soul: Caution! That's all it says. And one word says it all.

Caution!- because you feel like you're on slippery ground- even if its as dry as a desert. Caution- because you want to love and embrace and give and hope- but your spirit says to you that you don't have enough left inside you to do all that. Frustration will dry out your bones and dry up your hope- even when you're working so hard to make this not be so.

And that "working so hard" part may just be the problem. You can't work for moments of grace. You can't work and strive for peace and relaxed enjoyment of another person's friendship. You can't work for love and encouragement. There has to be a spark of God's breath on the situation for all that to occur. There's has to be the divine touch of God and the child-like response of simply receiving-opening yourself up- for all that beauty to occur.

So now I feel well fed, fresh and full, green and vibrant with life. God gave me an afternoon of just what I needed- when I didn't know what I needed. I thought I needed Answers. He thought I needed life and relational honesty. I thought I needed a better Plan. He said He already made one for me. And maybe its better if I stop striving so hard, and just get with the plan. His plan.

"I know what I'm doing. I have it all planned out—plans to take care of you, not abandon you, plans to give you the future you hope for" (Jer. 29:11, The Message)

Through it All

One child has a sinus and ear infection, the other child (young man) has pneumonia. He's very sick. The dog, even, has an infected mysterious spot on his back, and we are concerned about that. Thankfully we have the best of doctors, and amazingly the children's doctors' office is less than a mile from our house.

This morning as we got ready to go the doctors (they were open this weekend), we had a short little "service" in our living room. Very short- as our son was half asleep on the couch, and looking very ill. Our daughter wanted to share some Scripture verses with us that SHE felt strongly about. We smiled as she led our service. Lead on! We prayed and thanked God for His grace.We felt thankful that we have these minor illnesses to deal with. We know that there are many who are dealing with heavy, severe trials of disease and chronic illness. We have to deal with something that is treatable (even if we do have to watch carefully over our son's health due to his history of Asthma and pneumonia).

Lately, all I see is God's hand of Grace...in the midst of our small trials and obstacles. It's not that I don't think God wants to show up in some big Victories for us. He does. But for now, we are dealing with a number of concerns, obstacles, challenges, predicaments. And I see how God wants to be the stabilizing force in our life, the Hand that under girds us, the Way Maker, the Light, the Fire that continually reignites within us when we get weary or start to do too much sighing.

When I sigh a lot, I know something is wrong. It's not that I can't get weary or tired or that I am not allowed to ever feel overwhelmed. But sighing is- for me- a sign of impending despair. And that is one thing I can not ever afford to have in my life.

Despair is not supposed to be my portion in this life. Here's why:
Despair means you are without hope, and that you sense there is no way out.

a state in which everything seems wrong and will turn out badly; ...

the feeling that everything is wrong and nothing will turn out well

abandon hope; give up hope; lose heart; ...
wordnet.princeton.edu/perl/webwn

I am not ever giving up hope. I have more hope than ever. I have more confidence than ever in the hand of God, the loving heart of God, the will of God, and the plan of God for my life. I see more than ever that I don't have the answers, that I don't have resources for the challenges of my own making. I perceive that God's resources are not only stored up for me, but that He waits for my recognition of this fact and longs for me to tap into what HE has in mind for the battle at hand, the problem ahead, the challenge that looks too daunting for me to handle.

"Be strong and let your heart take courage, All you who hope in the LORD" Ps. 31:24. Let your heart take hold of what He has- and don't let yourself get near that dreaded word- despair.

There's no reason not to experience more of what He has laid up for you: hope, increased perception of His grace and His strength, and a path to take THROUGH the raging seas.

Spring Forward

This is a typical Spring morning in upstate New York: you open the front door and try to get a feel for the weather so you know whether to dress in sweaters and socks or to throw on a t-shirt and sandals. It's a fashion adventure, every day. And if you don't care about fashion, then it's an adventure of another sort. For those who have allergies and asthma, it's a question of what the day will do to you: will you be sneezing, coughing, gasping for air or running around playing Frisbee and happily taking in the sunshine?

I've got doctor's appointments to schedule, an orthodontist appointment for one child, prescriptions to fill for the other child, a quick jaunt to the school to drop off my kids, and then back to the school to pick one up later. This is all about attending to the necessities of life. I'm not doing any major dreaming here- or goal setting or prayerful planning with a pad of paper. This day is about the basics of health, education, breathing, and reuniting at the house tonight over a supper I have yet to decide on. I already know that today I am just going to be glad I can take care of what I can take care of.

I am not going to do anything heroic today (not that I know of); and I'm not going to be doing anything that seems grand or of a breakthrough nature. But I am going to live today- live it up to the max. And for me that means I am going to be glad I am a mom, be glad I have the ability to handle lots of appointments and issues and needs. I'm going to be thankful for the ability to cope with many small things as well as the ability to cope with the large big things in life when they arise.

HE makes me ABLE to meet what the day brings.

Notes to Self on Surrender

It's a lot easier to surrender when you're feeling weak. It's not a bad thing, really, to get in touch with how frail you really are- in comparison to God's magestic power. I've been sick with a bad chest cold these past couple days and its getting worse. I went from walking around, coughing and sounding like a sultry smoker, to lying in bed, coughing and sounding very old, very sick.

I spent most of yesterday in bed. Bill brought me chicken soup on a tray after I woke up from a nap. Because I sound so sick- and look unwell- everyone is letting me be. They're not expecting me to rush around like I normally do, commandeering the ship here, scheduling and ordering the day. No, I've been like that bruised reed barely standing in a strong wind- and its obvious that I am not going to be super mom right now.

On top of being sick, my lap top followed me into the same kind of languishing and powering down. The last couple weeks I kept having to jiggle the cord and keep the connection firm. But it was continually shutting off on me, flashing all these warnings about the battery being low. I was trying to get it recharged but the connection is faulty. The lap top has- I say this with no drama- died. Its kaput. And all my writing is locked inside it. All my passwords are secured in its dark vault. I'm using a computer that my son and my husband hastily put together out of all the computer parts my son has. But I'm a stranger to this system. I feel out of sorts and not sure of what I am doing, other than trying to remedy this situation by doing, basically, what I can. And that's all God expects of me.

So often we think God is asking us to do these herculean tasks using great physical exertion- but really He is asking us to remember we are weak, He is strong, and all can still be well. I'm surrendering to His capable plan that allows us to see that the show can still go on without you, and that its better if it does. Who needs all that pressure of feeling that everything rises and falls with your input and your help?

I'll be feeling better soon, I'm sure. But I actually feel pretty good right now, deep inside. I feel "safe and secure from all alarm" because I'm leaning on Him, relying on His strength to be sufficient for me. It is, most assuredly, the greatest relief to find out how much God wants to show up in all His power when we are weak and stumbling. When our efficient systems go gaput or when a strong wind comes in and all your fight goes seeping out, you can still be rock solid in His strength.

Wow

I just got back from teaching at a women's retreat this weekend and all I can say is....WOW. God always does "abundantly above what we can ask or imagine", doesn't He? He refills the empty cup. He splashes color on pale, dry ground. He energizes those who need to continue onward and upward, and who think that maybe they can't go another step. They find out, though, that they can.

You can always take a step further with God. Even if the miles stretch before you, you only have to think about a step at a time. You only have to rest your mind on the goodness of God displayed all around you; shown in the "land of the living".

I'll share more later. But for now, I have to unpack, hug my family, refill an empty fridge, and walk around with a big smile on my face because of all the wonderful things that God is up to. That He joyfully let me catch a glimpse of some of these things makes me just smile even more.

I'm physically exhausted, but I've never been more ready to go onward with Him.

Inquiring Hearts Want to Know...His Love

Remember that old 1980's TV ad, "Inquiring Minds want to know"? Well, they still do. This mind- mine- especially. I almost can see the Lord shaking His head and saying with wonder, "This child can't get enough of My answers." The problem is, the Lord isn't saying this with a smile, really. It's more of a pained look on His face because I'm after what He holds in His hands, rather than what He holds in His heart for me.

Yesterday was stressful. I won't go into everything, but the day ended with me deciding to take a prayer walk. I brought my daughter with me, and we walked vigorously up and down the street in front of the town library, talking, praying, walking. We had not quite finished when all of a sudden the skies opened and down came the rain. We raced to the car parked in the library parking lot where we had earlier returned a DVD. I drove out of the library on the curbed, winding road and managed to hit the curb,popping my tire. I parked the car in the library parking lot again, called my husband, and watched as the rain gushed down even more.

Bill arrived, jacked up the car, put on the spare tire- all in the pouring rain. Then, within minutes, he was done, and we both drove home. He's a good man. It was a long day. And that flat tire was the easiest part of my day. It was fixable. (At least for my husband, it was). There are other big issues in my life that cannot be remedied that quickly.

That flat tire let me know that some things can be taken care of rather quickly. Some problems end within minutes of occurring. And some problems are with us a long time. But longer than that is His grace for us, His love and compassion. It's higher than the heavens, deeper than the ocean. And God is inviting me to explore this vast realm of His love. He says its far better for me to explore the wonders of His love for me than for my inquiring mind to seek out answers.

On the Move

Well, "on the move" is what best describes me this week. So much so that it may be a lean blogging week. I've got a big group of teenagers coming over to the house today and therefore a sprint to the grocery store ...right now.

More later!...

------

I'm back, but I am doing that sighing thing and so I'm a bit concerned. I'll have to pace myself. Whenever I take a lot of deep breaths, throughout the day, I know I'm carrying a bit of a burden. This is just one of those weeks that I want to get through.

Today my son is whooping it up for his 18th birthday party. This is probably the last birthday party I will throw for my son. (When you're in college you create your own party scenes , as I recall). I tell this to my daughter Abby as a concession. We are spending the whole day shopping, cleaning, baking, running out to get the pizzas later, pouring soda, cleaning up again, and basically trying to cheerfully bear with it all. I'm happy he is celebrating. Really. I just happen to also feel "behind the eight ball". I feel like I'm running, and I'm way behind.

The next two days I'm trying to get through all the info I need for tax return forms and for the federal financial aid forms for colleges. I hate doing this kind of numbers work, organizing, filling out forms. But I'll feel so relieved when its done.

Then Thursday Alex and I fly out to visit a college down south. We return on Saturday night. I'll come home, flop in Bill's arms, and thank the Lord I won't have to think about doing college searches and filling out forms for our next child for another five years. That's the number of years between my two children. We never planned it that way- but oh how grateful I am that God paced me out a bit.

The one juicy tidbit of incentive I have this week is that I'm in the midst of reading three books. Waking the Dead by John Eldredge, Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott, and The Lost Memoirs of Jane Austen (the book I won in that Jane Austen blog contest). I am sure that as I get the time to read, probably at night and then when I'm on the plane, that I will start to breathe slower, smile more, relax, and see a glorious world unfold before me. I'll be captivated by new ideas, tender thoughts, and words of encouragement that will take me onward.

Beyond Words

The movie, Persuasion, was good. Not great. Not as good as the film with Ciaran Hinds starring as Captain Wentworth. I thought the character development in last night's adaptation was weak. I could not connect with this version of Captain Wentworth, and could not see what motivated him, really. The previous dark haired Ciaran Hinds with his blazing eyes and strong set of his chin said so much more than last night's version of Captain Wentworth.

Before the movie, we had a family birthday party for Alex. He is 18. My father, brother, two sisters, and one nephew came to celebrate with us and to enjoy one of the best apple pies I have made in a long time. I may have just gotten my old baking touch back again. I didn't burn it. It wasn't dry or tasteless.

One thing that is never dry at these family gatherings is our conversations. Last night's rowdy conversation around the dining room table covered the republicans and democrats running for president, the efficacy of drinking raw milk verses pasteurized, how Americans use too much anti-bacterial hand soap and we may need to get back to playing in the dirt more, and the recent trouble my Mom is having with depression, again.

"Mom has the parapatitas," my brother said as he and my Dad entered through the front door last night. That word meant something to our family even it made no sense to anyone else. We talked about some of the signs of her health, how to read them, and how to know if it's okay so far; how to tell if we're in a rough sea in a tippy boat or if we're just gliding quietly, very quietly, on our own course of needing to be left alone.

I asked Dad how we got the expression "parapatitas". There's a Spanish expression "patitas en al aire" meaning you're flat on your back with your feet up in the air. Mom, at one point in describing her version of that phrase Dad used, just added "para" to the one word she heard. Some where along the way, we adopted it as one of the expressions we use to describe when Mom is feeling the effects of age, ill health, emotional fatigue. Some of us feel these things more acutely. Some of us have bodies that shut down when weary. Some of us battle this onslaught less effectively than we'd like to.

So there we were enjoying a good family discussion, eating a remarkably good pie for someone who hasn't done well lately in the baking department, and missing the one person who always makes our times lively and sweet. We were celebrating the birthday of a young man who is on the launching pad, ready to take off towards his dreams. We were also celebrating being a family, through thick and thin.

I looked around at everyone at the table. You could see everybody's expression, hear their words, and hear a bit of what was going on inside them. But it's always just a bit. There's way more deep down inside. Some of us just don't express everything we're thinking. And some of us look like we are.

But it's just the tip of the iceberg.

Just One Word

The temperature plunged last night, and I woke up with one sock off, cold and exposed, and one warm foot under the covers. Alex asked me for a mochachino this morning, and I happily made it for him. I mixed one third of a cup of hot chocolate milk and two thirds of the hot coffee we had made, and served it up. I think this is the first of caffeinated mornings for my son. He is becoming a man for sure. And turning 18 in less than two weeks.

The cold weather makes me want to curl up in a ball and read all day but things are picking up speed here at the suburban homestead. I have to make airline reservations for a trip with my son at the end of this month down to Kentucky to visit a college; I have bills to pay and run over to the post office, the Christmas tree to take down (it's still twinkling in the corner of the living room), the house needs to be dusted (see the dust under the family photos in the picture?), and a Women's LIFE Workshop I'm teaching tonight.

And what am I teaching about tonight? The Power of Your Words- Having a New Vocabulary for a New Year. I'm not talking about increasing the usage of high powered words that impress others, but about purposefully speaking words of life, words that impart grace, to the hearer, to the situation you're in.

So many memories of my childhood are coming back to me- because what I remember most about my upbringing is all the adventures we had, and all the words flying around. Always instruction, always admonitions, jokes mixed in with angry words, Mom's interjections of favorite Scripture verses, and lots of Spanish words heard in the background as Dad continually played his favorite music.

Some of Dad's lectures- I mean instructions- were lengthy and rather much to bear. But then there were those short lessons of his that we heard loud and clear, that we remembered, that we remember still. Some of these lessons he wrote himself, but usually there was Dale Carnegie or a Proverb or some famous writer he had gleaned from, and he would mix it all together to create these interesting sermonettes that I've never heard elsewhere. Don't forget, he said these with his Bolivian accent, with his dramatic way of enforcing a point, with his dark eyes flashing in seriousness or in humor. He's impossible to ignore.

One lesson about words had to do with "The Six Most Powerful Sentences in the World". We were admonished that our conversations should always includes these sentences. Here they are:

6. I admit I made a mistake.
5. You did a good job.
4. What is your opinion?
3. If you please
2. Thank You

We always had trouble getting out #6- but those six words lead you to forgiveness and reconciliation. And #4 was rather a pain to deal with if you were in an argument, and trying to get your victory stance, and Dad would walk by and eye you, reminding you to ask your sibling with genuine interest, "What is your opinion?"

#5 was one we would constantly remind Dad of, if he didn't appreciate the chores we were always doing- even if we did them begrudgingly. At the dinner table, you were supposed to remember #3 and #2 and say them often.

But #1- the single most important, most powerful word, was one we did not forget when Dad would make us recite these statements in order. Starting with number six and working our way down to number two, we would count off the words on our fingers, looking around at each other,poking each other in good natured ribbing if someone forgot a word. But one word we never forgot. It's a powerful word. It's a word every family should say proudly, should say as they look around at each other and hold tightly to each other- through thick and thin:

"We". That's #1 - a sentence in and of itself. And it's awful hard to forget. No matter how much trouble family life is, that's the one word that shapes us and holds us together... in His Love.

Redeeming My Past

I am trying not to skip around the quiet house in delight. My kids are back to school. They've gone back today, walking out to the school bus this morning as the snow fell down and as my praise went up to God that I was free at last. Well, not free in the negative sense that they are a ball and chain, but rather that I am free to hear myself think aloud, free to contemplate and wash the dishes quietly while Harry snores on the couch. Now I can do the "work" of dreaming, planning, and considering what amazing thing is next.

I have decided not to make any concrete, quantifiable resolutions this year. (There is the one need to exercise, but that's more of a given than a resolution.) I've decided this not so that I can go under the radar and have no accountability as far as progress,but rather so that I can wave my banner of R.I.S.K. (Redeem, Invest, See, Keep) and see what specific actions I should take under these Valuable Verbs that call me onward. I think these four words are challenging enough, and specific enough, that if I apply them to my life, daily, I will have more than enough accountability and resulting action.

The last couple days Bill and I have been talking about where we fell, where we flubbed up, these last couple years. Ever since we bought this house, it feels like we have holed up in a comfortable place (albeit too small a place). We would normally have sold the house by now, because we usually fix up a house and sell it in two years or less. We are now going on our third year here. And I can tell we have stayed long enough. It's time to get moving again.

I know why we haven't moved on. I know why we decided not to sell this house- as far as the economics of it all, the real estate market declining, our financial nest egg having dramatically declined and therefore leaving us without the means to really do another project. I know those reasons. But there are other reasons why we've stayed put- and these have to do with safety and security.

We made some mistakes in our financial/investment plan, and we lost a lot of ground these last two years. When you find yourself coming up short, as far as available resources, it's much easier to just decide that you are content with what you have and adjust accordingly to your diminished state. If I do not let myself get stirred up by a dream, I can tend my little fire of glowing coals and say that I rather like the warmth of dying coals instead of the blazing heat of a roaring fire. That way I do not have to get up , chop down trees, drag in the logs and throw them on the fire. So I can sit by a little warmth, stay warmed enough to be content...until the fire goes out completely.

Why the illustration about a fire? I don't even have a fireplace in this house (and boy do I miss having one!). But fire symbolizes a lot of things. For me, right now, it's a symbol of purpose, faith, and a God-given dream. You have an inner fire, on one hand, and on the other hand you have a past with accomplishments and mistakes. If you see your past mistakes so clearly that you wince, you may be feeling the heat and the shame of those mistakes and not feeling the heat and warmth of your inner fire. You could get used to less warmth and encouragement. You could adjust to Less.

But God is a God of Expansion, of Redemption, of Grace, and then more grace. If we are disadvantaged through lost ground, mistakes, or a humiliating past, we can expect God to speak to us, as He does in Isaiah 54, words of encouragement and exhortation to expand, stretch out, don't hold back. Especially, don't look back expecting to see yourself still standing there in shame or humiliation.

It's as if I can see the Lord walking through my past with this torch of grace. He touches each sore spot as I am about to wince and cringe, and He calls out "Redeemed!" No one is there to hear Him say this except the Lord and me. I need to hear Him say that each spot, each place in my past where I fell or flubbed up, He will redeem. If He touches that sore spot with His torch, it will start blazing again with fire. It will be cleansed of its damaging pain and yield a sparkling truth.

I'm looking forward to the the truth setting me free. Aren't you?

Tidings of Comfort and Joy

It finally hit me, yesterday- Christmas is a week away. Yesterday I suddenly went into a frenzy of running around, shopping with a vengeance and with more focus on the particular people I still have on my list. I came home last night after a long afternoon of errands and shopping, made a quick spaghetti dinner, and fell apart at the dinner table. Everything that was bothering me, deep inside, these last couple days, came to the surface.

I really felt the most frustrated with my teenage son, but I don't even want to go there. Let's just say I am constantly aware of Life's challenges and responsibilities and I do not see that he is. In fact it irks me when I am exhausted and concerned about so many details so that everyone's life can be enhanced- and he is barely covering the basic details of his own existence. But it all comes down to perspective, I guess. I could have a son who is wild, out of control, and off doing God only knows what. Instead I have a son who is ....maturing. Maturity, or call it Inner Growth, takes time.

So I calmed down a bit, rested on my bed, and watched the new T.V. reality show about the competing choirs led by famous stars, such as Patti Labelle. Boy, can that woman belt it out. As I watched her choir sing, and saw the recap of the first song, it was like having a rousing worship experience. My deflated spirit got pumped up again. I saw my own emotional exhaustion and my worries for what they were- and was able to recognize how off kilter I got. I needed to repent. I needed to apologize.

Abby came in my room and flopped next to me. She chatted with me about her vacation week and who she wanted to get together with. I turned to her and tried to assess if I had traumatized her with my outburst at the table.

"Abby, I'm sorry for the outburst. I was wrong to act that way, " I told her, with my eyes down on the patterned comforter.

"What outburst?" she asked me.

"The one at dinner," I replied, puzzled that she seemed to not know what I was talking about.

"Oh, that," she said. "That wasn't even a bad one Mom. I've seen worse."

Apparently I've made progress- although I'm not sure if her perspective of my behavior is an accurate indicator of how well I am doing. I have one child who constantly extends grace to me, and another child (a young man) who causes me to need grace, and grace more abundantly.

"And great grace was upon them all" is the fragment of the verse that comes to mind (Acts 4:33). The disciples preached the resurrection of Christ AND great grace was upon them, as well.

"The doctrine preached was the resurrection of Christ;... which being duly explained, was a summary of all the duties, privileges, and comforts of Christians. There were evident fruits of Christ's grace in all they said and did," says Matthew Henry's commentary.

I need to remember not just the duties we have in this life- our work and our labor, the raising of our children, the labor of our soul in prayer, but also the comfort and the privilege I have to know a God who can refuel me when I'm low, infuse me with strength, and give me grace to go on again in an attitude of joy and expectation of His good.

There's a canopy of grace over me, but I think I feel the touch of grace deep down inside me, as well. On top of that deep inner assurance, I hear the tidings of Comfort and Joy.

I'm off again, humming that song, and so thankful for it.

Just a Reminder

I picked up an ornament, yesterday, at a little thrift shop. 25 cents for a beautiful, heavy glass mini snow globe hanging from a silver cord. How could you go wrong with that?! I showed it to Bill and the kids and they smiled. Nice reaction. But nothing earth shattering.

But one time, in a Christmas long ago, (I feel like a grandma in a rocker telling my chilluns all about the good ole days), there was an ornament that caused a powerful, beautiful, healing reaction. This ornament was simple. Nothing fancy, but it was a reminder of love. And we all need those reminders ...sometimes we need them more than we realize.

I don't even remember which year it was exactly. I do remember, though, that it was the year after our dog, our Springer Spaniel, Ginger, had died. We had enjoyed her loving company for over twelve years. We had grown up with her. She had witnessed our family fights and our joyous celebrations.

She had one time saved my Mom from going down a raging river. Actually it was just a creek with a fast current and the dog swam out to my Mom who had started to flounder a bit. My mom grabbed onto Ginger's collar and Ginger swam back towards shore. We just like to summarize the whole account by saying she saved mom's life.

Ginger also picked up a wounded pheasant, one day. She jumped onto the closed tent trailer parked in our backyard and laid the wounded bird on the roof. Then she waited there for us to notice her accomplishment. When she waited for us to notice her, she waited patiently. Sometimes she waited a long time.

Ginger was the one thing my Dad and my older sister had in common: they both loved that dog. I think Kris was the one who had to take her to dog obedience classes, when we first got Ginger as a puppy. Dad had a lot on his plate, as a teacher and a coach, and the father of five kids. Ginger, once in a while, was work. She had to be walked. She had to be brushed. Dad felt like the father of six, sometimes- only one of the six was especially obedient. Never talked back. Did not go through a painful adolescence. Never got angry or hurt because of lack of attention.

I don't even want to remember my chaotic teenage years, much less the years that three of us girls were teenagers together, under the same roof, with a weary but determined father, a loving but exhausted mother, and one dog who witnessed the highs and lows of our days. (My brothers were off at college, by now). This dog witnessed the clashes between my sister and my Dad. Ginger watched silently.

One day, Ginger was not there anymore. We all said little and tried not to think about how we missed her.

Then, it was Christmas. It was time to put up the tree. I was helping to unpack the ornaments and handing them to my sister who was handing them to my Dad to put on the tree. I got to one box, and pulled out a simple ornament, a rendition of our dog, Ginger. I handed it to Kris. She looked at it quietly and then handed it to Dad. Dad looked down and saw that it was Ginger's ornament. He looked at Kris, and his eyes filled up. Kris came over to Dad and hugged him. They held each other as they broke down. I heard them whisper something to each other about how they missed that dog.

That dog- who had been with us through thick and thin. Through highs and lows. That dog was a reminder that we were connected together, whether we liked it or not. Now that the sound of her joyous barking was gone, and there were no brown eyes looking quietly at you, waiting for a treat- there was still something left of her in our home.

Her ornament declared the message that love watches and love waits patiently. Waits for an open door. Sometimes a bridge of reconciliation can occur, even over a little thing... such as a reminder of love hanging on a Christmas tree.

Grace for the Day

Saturday and Sunday held minor challenges for me, opportunities to worship and to rest, moments of illumination and insight as I read Philip Yancey's Book, "What's So Amazing About Grace?" This is a book I had read years ago, but apparently I wasn't affected by it then. I am now. I am touched by it, unsettled by it, and stirred up.

The challenges I had this weekend were relational oriented. (Aren't they always?!) One college bound son who, in my mind, isn't acting very college bound (ie. responsible, organized, focused) had me fighting the battle to "release" and trust God. My daughter also has needs and it can't always be that "the squeaky wheel gets the grease". Sometimes the quiet wheel needs a bit of attention too. Saturday was a lot of running around, errands, and preparations. It ended, though, with a birthday party for my niece, where twelve of us, ages 13-82 , gathered together- and we really did celebrate.

Sunday afternoon we stopped at the Grocery Store right after church to grab the ingredients for sandwiches and soup, so that I wouldn't have to venture out of the house again that day. I was feeling a bit run down and ready to hibernate a bit.

As I was in line checking out, putting the cans of soup on the conveyor belt, I heard the words to that beautiful melody "Let it Be" by the Beatles. Some say the song was not written about Mother Mary but rather about Paul McCartney's mother, Mary, who would always settle family fights by saying, "Let it be. Just let it be." Mothers everywhere are settling scuffles and outcries with those healing words. Let it be. Let it go....Surrender.

After lunch, I flopped in bed with my two new books, one from the library and one from the Salvation Army (where the world has opened up to me at 50c a hardcover. Incredible deal.) Harry was lying on the bed with me, very needy and fretful. He was clipped and shorn like a sheep at the Groomers on Saturday. (If he's not clipped frequently enough, he gets painfully matted).

After having Mono last year, it doesn't take much now for me to rest on my bed in an attitude of gratitude. A book, a sleeping dog next to me, maybe a pot of hot tea on a tray, and I am one blessed woman. Especially if my son and my husband are downstairs working on a computer project, and my daughter wants to do a craft in her room. Then everyone is settled, in their place of choice, doing their activity of choice. It's as it should be. It's peaceful. It's restorative. But it is rare that it happens that way.

I read and I wrestle with this idea of grace. The illustrations Yancey shares moves me to tears. Though this book was published in 1997, the issue of grace has come up again, ten years later. Grace for the Christian, Grace for this troubled world, Grace for our homes. People want to know if this word, Grace, is as powerful as it is purported to be. Could Grace possibly frees us from the panic we often feel? Could Grace deal with the broken down families and the increasingly complex relationships everyone is dealing with? How free would you really be if you walked continually in Grace- Grace for yourself and Grace for others?

Oh, the Land of the Free. "In this land you can question anything," I wrote the other day. Without Grace, you strive to be packaged nicely before you go and talk to God, as if He will not see through your thin veneer of pretense and pride. Who could come clean enough to come forward and talk to God with absolute purity of thought and heart? The longer you pour it all out with Him, the more you keep seeing the shallowness of your thoughts or the selfishness of your ways.

But Grace isn't there for us to become shocked at how bad we can look. Grace is there to help us absorb the enormity of our weak state and yet assure us that we can indeed talk with the Creator of the Universe. Grace holds our hand and leads us to the throne room, all the while declaring, "This one is with me, Father. Please hear them out." And He does. He can listen to every rant and rave, every whimper and every sob, every statement of anger and bitterness.

And to all that, God will give an answer of peace. Peace that heals- because "by His stripes we are healed." Forgiven. Peace that gives perspective- because God will direct you into success as well as keep you through times of failure. Keep you, literally. Will not toss you out because you bombed on a task, blew it big, or wimped out where you once declared your godly purpose to prevail. He already knows the state we need to live in- it's a state of grace because of our human state of weakness.

"The same God who created the heavens and the earth has the power to bridge the great chasm that separates Him from His creatures. He will reconcile, He will forgive, no matter what obstacles His prodigal children put in the way...God will go to any preposterous length to get His family back," Yancey says.

I had just dozed off in the middle of reading that when I heard my bedroom door open. My daughter came in quietly. I was just about to tell her, "Oh, honey, I can't talk right now. I just need to sleep" but before I could say that, she holds up a book in her hand, indicating that she just wants to cuddle in bed and read next to me. She'll read and I can read. Or I can sleep if I need to. That her desire to be near me could coincide with my need to rest filled me with such peace. I could be "weak" right now- tired and worn out, and it wouldn't take away from what she wanted. She hopped in bed next to me.

God somehow desires our company, a relationship with us despite the fact that we are weak, worn out, with not much to give Him. Yet He extends His hand and says "Come closer." When God reaches out to surprise you with a Welcome, instead of an Exile to the Wilderness, you will be touched by Grace. Surprised by it. Astonished that it could work. We can be weak, a mess, mired in sin and He could want to know us, forgive us, and heal us. Grace could overwhelm us.

Or in the case of apostle Paul,"knocked flat on the ground on the way to Damascus, he never recovered from the impact of grace...."


Then let me never recover, as well.

Give My Regards

Swimming lessons for my daughter, Abby, every morning; sunshine today and gentle breezes instead of oppressive humidity- this is summer, finally. And I'm hoping it's a summertime for my soul, as well. No more dark nights of the soul. I'm basking in the Son shine, and cultivating the soil for my dreams.

Here's my to do list, today: call Dad and finally do that Father's Day lunch I promised, get my teenage son to attend to all his tasks (including driving school, getting his license, so that I can have my gray hair every time he's out on the road!), pay bills-remembering to thank God that we are able to make a living), decide whether to sell this house and go to work on another fixer-upper. Why not make it move #23 or is it 24? I've lost track on the number of moves we've made. And I will write a book about that someday.

Feeling homesick for North Carolina- remembering our year down there, when we, like Abraham, "went out, not knowing where he was going".

I'm a New Yorker (upstate, upstate!)but I don't like who we are. We're rough and callous and cold, often. I don't want to fall back into those nasty patterns! I want to remember my southern terms, "bless her heart", and "see y'all" and the looks of grace that were so freely given.

Yesterday I met three truck drivers getting out of a moving van that had "Bridgeport, CT" on it. I called out "Hey! I remember Bridgeport! Thats where I was rushed to the hospital once." "How'd it turn out?" they asked. "My baby lived!!" I shouted with a grin. Abby was right next to me- my miracle baby.

"Give my regards to Bridgeport!" I shouted as they walked away with a smile.

Give my regards to anyone who's been kind and caring in this often dark world.