On November 28, 2012, I met the nanowrimo goal of writing the first 50,000 words of a novel. Actually, my first official count was 50,238. Tonight I wrote some more of the last chapter and just before midnight I verified 52,855 words. The novel is not done, not by a long shot. It probably won't ever be done or if it is, I wouldn't anticipate it being finished before next summer. Either way, finished or unfinished, I met the goal and I'm happy about that.
I suppose I will have to finish "Moving Mountains" at some point since I promised an autographed copy to my nephew for the purpose of him selling it on ebay and earning enough money to purchase a new car or maybe his first home or possibly the Bugatti we are supposed to be "sharing". This consists of me getting it during the week and my nephew getting it on the weekend because, "You're old. You don't need to drive it on the weekend". Probably true, but I still think it's a long shot for him to make that much money on ebay. On the other hand, people buy a lot of weird stuff there so I suppose anything could happen.
My niece also accepted the challenge and achieved the goal as well. Her novel isn't finished either, but she has set the goal for completion by the end of the year. Maybe I should accept her challenge and do the same.
Here's an excerpt from the last chapter. Keep in mind it has not been proofed or edited in any way. That comes later, after all the words of the story have been written.
Enjoy.
"Moving Mountains"
Excerpt from the last chapter.
Micah, Jeremiah, Hannah and Naomi were all gathered back in the living room around Nate’s bed. It seemed as if time was running out and one by one all of them gave up hope of him ever opening his eyes again, though they did not discuss this amongst themselves. Long moments passed where no one said a word. The only sound in the room was a the steady mark of time from the mahogany and cherry Sligh grandfather clock that stood sentry by the entrance, the occasional sniffle and Nate’s increasingly labored breathing.
“How much longer can this go on?” Naomi wondered out loud to no one in particular. She felt guilty for telling Nate it was ok for him to go when she had spoken to him while everyone else was out of the room. She was unaware that Jeremiah had done the same thing.
“Hard to tell little sis. It’s hard to watch though.” Micah said. He put his arm around Naomi and she laid her head against his chest and let the tears come.
“You guys think we should get Mom yet?” Jeremiah asked.
“I was thinking the same thing Jer.” Micah answered. “Maybe we better. I know she will want to be here at the end and there’s no way of really knowing when that will be. From the sound of things and by what the hospice nurse said, it doesn’t seem like it could be that far off though.”
They all nodded in agreement. Hannah went to wake up Elizabeth so she could be there when Nate left this world.
Hannah quietly stepped into her parents bedroom. She observed the cherry wood highboy and chest of drawers with their ornate detail on the feet, the polished brass drawer pulls. The finials on the four poster bed had seen better days but the cherry was still beautiful and brought back memories of all six of them romping on the bed on Christmas morning trying to rouse their parents into opening up the presents at 6:00am. It never worked, 7:30 was the rule at their house. Other memories of long talks with her Mom or Dad or both while sitting on the very bed that Elizabeth was resting in made her eyes sting with tears. If she couldn’t imagine what life was going to be like without her Dad, she wondered how her Mom was even going to begin to cope.
Hannah knew her Dad was going to Heaven sometime today and that brought a measure of hope to her. However, it didn’t stop the ache in her heart and he wasn’t even gone yet. She knew there was going to be a void in her life where her Dad used to be for a long time. I’m going to have a Dad shaped hole in my life she thought. The idea brought fresh tears to her eyes.
Hannah looked down at the sleeping form of her Mother and knew she needed to wake her. She looked so peaceful lying there and Hannah knew she was going to need every ounce of strength and rest she could get to survive these next few days. However, she also knew Elizabeth needed to be at Nate’s side when he went on to Heaven. So, she breathed a quick prayer to God for comfort and peace and then gently reached down and touched her Mother’s shoulder.
Elizabeth stirred beneath the white down comforter. The contrast between it and the cherry headboard was always crisp. Today it was comforting and worn with memories; memories that would see the family through the hard days ahead.
“Oh. Hannah! I fell asleep! Is your Dad…?” the question died on her lips and her eyes clouded over.
“No! Mom! He’s still here. But we thought it might not be too much longer so we all thought we should wake you now.”
“Oh. Thank you Jesus for sparing him just a little while longer.” Elizabeth threw off the covers and put her shoes back on. She sat on the edge of the bed a little while longer and pulled Hannah down to sit with her.
“You know, there were times when I didn’t know if your Dad and I were going to be able to stick with our marriage or not. It was long before you kids were born. We had a lot going against us after that accident. We almost lost our way. But we fought against the power that threatened to tear us apart and look where we are today. Over fifty years of marriage, four kids married with God honoring spouses of their own and raising all of the grandkids to walk with the Lord. I can hardly remember those days when we couldn’t see our way past the hurt and pain we had caused each other. God restored what we had almost lost and he restored it in such a way that brings honor to Him through each successive generation. I am not sure how to live without your father, but I know my Heavenly Father won’t desert me now. How do you live when half of you is missing?” Her voice cracked and her shoulders shook with grief that wasn’t even fully realized yet.
Hannah helped her Mother up from the bed, arms around each other, they walked out into the living room. At the sight of her children standing at the bedside of their dying Father, Elizabeth’s eyes filled with tears again and made it difficult to walk. She felt like she needed to be strong for her kids, but she realized that was too much pressure and that each of them would have to navigate these waters on their own. They would be there for each other as they had always been, but grief was a solitary road. Each person had a unique relationship with Nate and so each one would have to grieve in their own way for the loss that they personally experienced. Elizabeth held on to the hope that they had created enough good memories to see them through the pain.
“Hey Mom, come sit in the chair.” Micah said. He went over to where Elizabeth stood seemingly rooted to the spot, staring at Nate.
“No, honey. I need to give him a hug first.” She stepped over to the bed and leaned over to hug her husband. She lingered whispering something in his ear. It was low enough that the kids were not able to hear what she said but the fact that her tears were falling made them all look away from the ache that act of tenderness brought to each of their chests.
“Nate, my husband, my friend, no woman has ever been loved as well as I have. You have given me four beautiful children and a lifetime of love. You loved me with an everlasting love just as Christ loves His church. I know who He is because of your willingness to love me as He does. Honey, I know that your body is wearing out and you won’t be coming back. If it’s time to go, I want you to know that I will be ok. You have shown the boys what it means to be a God honoring man and our daughters what unconditional love looks like, they will be here to help me and Jesus will never leave me. Don’t linger for us. Go and see what Heaven is all about. Go and meet Jesus. I’m sort of jealous that you are going to beat me there you know. I love you Nathan Isaac Bradbury. Always. Forever.”
Elizabeth kissed him tenderly on the cheek and did not bother to hide the tears that dripped onto his face and traced a path down towards his ears. She tenderly wiped them away with her hand and then left it there cradled against the side of his face. She sat there on his hospital bed, her hand gently rubbing the side of his face, hoping he would open his eyes just one more time though she had just told him it was ok to go. She hoped against hope to hear him say, “I love you Lizzy B. Always. Forever.” just one more time. She hoped. But she didn’t think it would happen.
Micah could not watch this display of affection between his parents and quietly walked out to the kitchen. It was too much for him. He loved them both for the sacrifices they had made for him and his siblings while they were growing up, for fighting so hard for what they believed in and for instilling in him the love of the Lord. His heart was breaking over the end of his Dad’s physical life. It was juxtaposed with the knowledge that his spiritual body would live on in a realm he could not see, though he believed with all of his heart in it’s existence. If he didn’t believe, he knew he could not endure staying until the bitter end.
Once out in the kitchen Micah sat down hard at the kitchen table, his face in his hands, shoulders shaking with emotion and tears leaking between his fingers. He tried to pray, but words were hard to articulate. He knew that God heard his prayers though and so he just stumbled through as best he could. He asked for peace for the family, for a painless end for his Dad and for him to know the right thing to say and do for his mother, his siblings, their spouses and the grandkids over the adjustment to living life without the patriarch of the family.
He sat there in silence for the space of fifteen minutes or so before Jeremiah joined him at the table in almost the same posture. He sat there quietly for a beat, then got up and got them each a glass of water. Jeremiah set the glass down in front of Micah and said, “I couldn’t handle that in there anymore. I feel like I ditched Dad, but man that’s intense in there. Call me a coward if you want to.”
“Yeah, I know. I had to get out for a minute too. I need to breathe. You are no coward. It’s just intense, stressful, that’s all. We all need a break from it every now and then. The seesters and the Mom are doing the female thing. It’s fine, but it’s giving me a pain in my heart because I know I can’t fix this for them.”
“I know man. I hear you loud and clear.”
They lapsed into silence that would have been comfortable between them if not for the on-going death watch. Each were reminiscing about their father in their own minds.
Out in the living room, the Bradbury women were having what Hannah had dubbed a “snot fest”. They were all crying and talking about Nate and laughing and crying some more. Hannah said if anyone observed them through the windows that they would call the stress center and have them committed, their emotions were so seemingly inconsistent. Naomi occupied her time by watching Hannah and whenever she looked at her she would smile her biggest smile and then let her face collapse into the most pitiful look she had ever seen. It made Hannah and Elizabeth laugh and seemed a fitting pantomime of the rollercoaster of emotions they were all experiencing.
They weren’t really paying a lot of attention to Nathan at that moment although Elizabeth was holding his hand, Hannah was at his side holding his other hand and Naomi had her hand resting on his leg. They told stories about Nate, laughed, cried and then fell silent for awhile before they started the process all over again. Interspersed with their reminiscing, they fussed with Nate’s blankets although by now, no one really thought it made much of a difference to him. They knew they were doing it for their own peace of mind.
Suddenly, there was a stirring and Nate opened his eyes! Though they seemed unfocused at first, Elizabeth quickly stood up and said, “Nate! Honey, can you hear me?”
The sound of their mother’s voice brought Micah and Jeremiah hurrying back to their father’s bedside. They witnessed something they had each secretly hoped for but did not really believe would ever happen again. Their Dad seemed to be awake!
Nate tried to form a word, but no sound came out. He frowned and tried again appearing frustrated at his inability to communicate. When he somehow found his voice he said, “Lizzy B can you see?” and he weakly pointed to something in the corner that was for his eyes only. “Can you see Him? He’s here. Right over there.”
“Who is it dear? Tell me?” she asked him anxiously.
“It’s our Savior Lizzy! Kids can you see Him? Jesus is here!”
At any other time, Jeremiah, the more laid back of the Bradbury sons would probably have said, “Folks! Jesus is in the house!” But it seemed rather inappropriate at this time even though everyone of them was convinced that Nathan was in fact seeing Jesus on a spiritual realm that they knew existed but were not privy to observe through their still constrained physical eyes.
Though each person in the Bradbury’s living room knew they could not see what Nathan could, they turned anyway and looked into the corner of the room where Nathan had pointed. Indeed, there was nothing that their human eyes could see, but the eyes of their hearts, their spiritual eyes were convinced their father knew Jesus was in their home.
He rested a minute looking at each of the faces of his beloved wife and children. His eyes seemed to be in and out of focus, but he appeared to realize they were all there. His brow furrowed and then relaxed and he seemed to want to say something. They were all gathered around his bed.
Naomi got close to his face and said, “Daddy, I love you.” He managed a faint smile at her declaration.
“Me too Dad. I love you too. You were the best father a kid like me could have asked for.” Micah said.
“Yes, Dad. You showed us the important things in life and you were always there for me.” Jeremiah added.
“You never let me down Dad. You always did what you said you were going to do, you supported me and you weren’t afraid to discipline us when we needed it. I love you Dad.” Hannah chimed in with the rest of her siblings. Tears were streaking their faces as the somehow knew the end was near.
Elizabeth leaned back down and hugged her husband and she whispered, “I love you Nathan Isaac Bradbury. Always. Forever. I’ll be joining you soon enough. Go meet the Father when it’s time. You have loved us well my husband, my friend.” she said with a trembling voice and tears streaking her face as well as Nathan’s. He reached a shaky hand to his wife’s face and looked her in the eyes. She noted the blue she had always loved and that she knew now she would soon never see again. In those minutes that they looked at each other and said nothing, their eyes communicated thousands of conversations, a lifetime of memories mingling hurt and pain with triumph and love, forgiveness and understanding. Fifty two years they had been married and it all came down to these minutes left in this room at this hour on this day. Their children witnessed a miraculous thing that day; their parents telling each other they would do it all over again for these few precious minutes they had left in each other’s embrace, in each other’s site, basking in each other’s love. Though both of their hearts were breaking they were breaking for different reasons: one because of the imminent loss of a spouse and the other heart breaking so it could soon soar free unencumbered by the constraints of its physical body.
“I love you Lizzy B. Always. Forever.”
With that Nathan Bradbury breathed his last breath and closed his eyes to this world while his spirit, finally released by the physical restraint of its corrupted earthly body, soared on to the next.
Elizabeth’s head and shoulders sagged and her tears started to…
“Nathan Isaac Bradbury, welcome my good and faithful servant. Come and see your reward.”
“My Lord and my God! Worthy is Your Name both in Heaven and in Earth!” Nathan had shed his physical body and was acutely aware of the ease of use of this new, glorified body he had been given. He knew all was well.
…fall on the face of her husband. “He’s already with Jesus. He’s gone from us, but he’s already with Jesus. Thank you Jesus for saving us.”
Micah and Jeremiah started humming “I’ll Be Somewhere Listenin” and soon their sisters joined in as well. Everyone taking comfort in the knowledge that their father had been listening to the sound of the Heavenly Father’s voice for the past fifty-seven years. Today he had heard the ultimate call.
Saturday, December 1, 2012
Thursday, November 8, 2012
I nanowrimo. Do you? Here's an excerpt...
About a month ago, I signed up to participate in nanowrimo; or National Novelist Writers Month which takes place every November. Since I am not a novelist, I suppose that's why I had never heard of it prior to this year. Anyway, I hesitated for a day or two before I signed up for it, wondering if I could carve out the time to write. The challenge is to write a 50,000 word novel in one month. Although to be honest, the real goal is to get people in the habit of writing everyday. I am terrible at this. I will go for days, even weeks writing at least something each day and then I set aside my journals and don't write anything for weeks or months. Sometimes, I even have the need to write, but I don't. To non-writers, it sounds weird, even sick or nerdish when I say I need to write the way I need to breathe. But, it is true. When I am writing, I feel better because I have processed and expressed something that I am sometimes not able to articulate unless I have the outlet to write. Sometimes I even need to write so that I can fully understand any given situation; writing gives me clarity.
Anyway, as of today my "novel" is currently sitting at 17,000 words. I am well ahead of the goal of where I need to be to complete the challenge and I am happy about that. I hope the the second half of my book comes as easily as the first half did, but I have some concerns that I may bog down at some point. I'm fervently praying that doesn't happen though as this "book" has felt like a purging of my soul at times. I hope I can finish it because even if it turns out to be utter crap, not worth the paper it won't be printed on, I still needed to write it. For me. And for all of you unsuspecting souls that I will foist it upon whether you want it to be foisted upon you or not. Just kidding. Sorta.
If you are still reading this drivel and you want to read even more drivel (and also read the word drivel one more time since I included it in the first paragraph of my book because apparently it is my new overused word of the month), I invite you to read what I believe will be the prologue for my book, "Moving Mountains". Keep in mind that the challenge is to get the words written, it is not for editing during this month. Editing comes after the goal is met. So, this is very, very rough. There may be spelling errors (gasp!) and other literary mayhem (horrors!). I did not bother to run spell checks, let alone a grammar check before I saved my writing. Believe me, as a "trying to recover perfectionist", this little bit of not-editing-as-I-go, has been extremely challenging for me. I have overcome it for the most part by writing new chapters each day so that I am not inclined to go back and read and fix mistakes from the day before. There will plenty of time for me to do that after Thanksgiving!
Here's the prologue for "Moving Mountains".
Hemingway and I are alike in one regard though: I have had the pleasure of escaping to Key West (a trip about which you can read in this story if you choose to embark upon this great adventure I have set in my mind to tell you about) and I can certainly understand why someone would want to make that tropical island their home. The idea of living in an area where one cannot tell where the blue of the sea stops and the azure blue of the sky starts, is comforting to me. In my version of Key West, the temperature is always a balmy 80 degrees, the tropical breeze gently ruffles the hair as I sit beside the ocean with an endless supply of journals and pens (all given to me free of course) with which to record my story for all of posterity. Oh, and I have a lifetime supply of key lime pie at my disposal as well. And since this is a dream we are talking about, my key lime pie does not pack on unnecessary weight. This idyllic lifestyle is admittedly, quite intriguing to me. At least until the fury of a hurricane interrupts my storybook existence in my daydream, scatters all my journal pages into the ocean and I get a key lime pie blown into my face with gale force wind. Then it's not so pretty anymore. Plus, it hurts. The key lime pie is still tasty though.
See here though! I've only just started my story and I have already digressed! Maybe the make believe hurricane decimating my journal pages was being kind to the general literary public when it blew my deepest thoughts all over the Gulf of Mexico. Maybe it was Mother Nature's way of protecting unsuspecting folks from having to read this drivel! At any rate, if you are still with me, Nathan Isaac Bradbury, in Hebrew my names mean "he gave and he laughs" so I tell people that I give laughs, although it wasn't always this way. There was a time when I forgot how to laugh.
Once upon a time, there was something that happened in my life that arrived on my doorstep with all of the fanfare and devastation of a hurricane. Unlike epic atmospheric events though, no one thought to tell me disaster was on it's way and I had no time to prepare myself for it. In the way that a hurricane can flatten buildings that have stood for years with no regard to their historical significance or the people who used to reside within the four walls of their newly destroyed home, this event threatened to drown me in the depths of utter despair and a pit of self loathing; quite literally, it nearly ushered in the utter destruction of me to say nothing of my sweet wife Lizzy B. It became a terribly dark time in my life and I was unable to make anyone laugh. I couldn't even see the sun on a bright summer day, let alone imagine the type of island life that Hemingway was blessed to live. Something terrible happened to me that day, it changed my life forever and almost stole the joy and laughter right out of my life forever. As surely as a hurricane claims it's victims, whether they are human, animal or material items, I floundered and nearly succumbed to the force of one mistake. And it wasn't even a mistake really. It was an unavoidable accident. Because believe me, if I had seen it coming, I would have run for high ground at the first inkling that something was wrong. I would not have waited for the governor to tell me it was time to evacuate.
Though in the middle of trying to recover from Hurricane Bel Air, I discovered something: that even when it seemed like God had left me alone to wallow in my mess and find my own way out of it, at that very moment He was reaching out His mighty and powerful hand to help me up, brush me off and set my feet upon the solid rock of His foundation. I discovered that when life's circumstances have beaten me down so much that I have to look up to see the ground, that God is right there with me. All I have to do is have faith the size of a mustard seed and I can, well, move mountains.
Anyway, as of today my "novel" is currently sitting at 17,000 words. I am well ahead of the goal of where I need to be to complete the challenge and I am happy about that. I hope the the second half of my book comes as easily as the first half did, but I have some concerns that I may bog down at some point. I'm fervently praying that doesn't happen though as this "book" has felt like a purging of my soul at times. I hope I can finish it because even if it turns out to be utter crap, not worth the paper it won't be printed on, I still needed to write it. For me. And for all of you unsuspecting souls that I will foist it upon whether you want it to be foisted upon you or not. Just kidding. Sorta.
If you are still reading this drivel and you want to read even more drivel (and also read the word drivel one more time since I included it in the first paragraph of my book because apparently it is my new overused word of the month), I invite you to read what I believe will be the prologue for my book, "Moving Mountains". Keep in mind that the challenge is to get the words written, it is not for editing during this month. Editing comes after the goal is met. So, this is very, very rough. There may be spelling errors (gasp!) and other literary mayhem (horrors!). I did not bother to run spell checks, let alone a grammar check before I saved my writing. Believe me, as a "trying to recover perfectionist", this little bit of not-editing-as-I-go, has been extremely challenging for me. I have overcome it for the most part by writing new chapters each day so that I am not inclined to go back and read and fix mistakes from the day before. There will plenty of time for me to do that after Thanksgiving!
Here's the prologue for "Moving Mountains".
Matthew 17:20 So Jesus said to them, "Because of your unbelief; for assuredly, I say to you, if you have faith as a mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there,' and it will move; and nothing will be impossible for you.
Prologue
Call me Nathan! Nathan Isaac Bradbury to be exact, but you can call me Nate if you want to. That was my thinly veiled attempt to reference Hemingway's "Moby Dick". Please do not ask me why I chose to start my story like this because the only version of "Moby Dick" that I ever read was the "Cliff Notes for Dummies" version of the "Cliff Notes" not to mention the fact that I am no Hemingway; a statement with which you will soon agree if you are still reading my story at this point. Maybe we already have agreed on that point, that's up to you to decide. Unlike Hemingway, I do not own any six toed cats. In fact, I don't even really care for cats of the five toed variety, so it is unlikely that there will be any felines making appearances in this story. I can promise that there is a dog though; maybe a couple of dogs, so dog people will want to continue with me. Cat people should feel free to continue with me too as long as we can agree to disagree over whether the dog or the cat is the superior animal companion.
Hemingway and I are alike in one regard though: I have had the pleasure of escaping to Key West (a trip about which you can read in this story if you choose to embark upon this great adventure I have set in my mind to tell you about) and I can certainly understand why someone would want to make that tropical island their home. The idea of living in an area where one cannot tell where the blue of the sea stops and the azure blue of the sky starts, is comforting to me. In my version of Key West, the temperature is always a balmy 80 degrees, the tropical breeze gently ruffles the hair as I sit beside the ocean with an endless supply of journals and pens (all given to me free of course) with which to record my story for all of posterity. Oh, and I have a lifetime supply of key lime pie at my disposal as well. And since this is a dream we are talking about, my key lime pie does not pack on unnecessary weight. This idyllic lifestyle is admittedly, quite intriguing to me. At least until the fury of a hurricane interrupts my storybook existence in my daydream, scatters all my journal pages into the ocean and I get a key lime pie blown into my face with gale force wind. Then it's not so pretty anymore. Plus, it hurts. The key lime pie is still tasty though.
See here though! I've only just started my story and I have already digressed! Maybe the make believe hurricane decimating my journal pages was being kind to the general literary public when it blew my deepest thoughts all over the Gulf of Mexico. Maybe it was Mother Nature's way of protecting unsuspecting folks from having to read this drivel! At any rate, if you are still with me, Nathan Isaac Bradbury, in Hebrew my names mean "he gave and he laughs" so I tell people that I give laughs, although it wasn't always this way. There was a time when I forgot how to laugh.
Once upon a time, there was something that happened in my life that arrived on my doorstep with all of the fanfare and devastation of a hurricane. Unlike epic atmospheric events though, no one thought to tell me disaster was on it's way and I had no time to prepare myself for it. In the way that a hurricane can flatten buildings that have stood for years with no regard to their historical significance or the people who used to reside within the four walls of their newly destroyed home, this event threatened to drown me in the depths of utter despair and a pit of self loathing; quite literally, it nearly ushered in the utter destruction of me to say nothing of my sweet wife Lizzy B. It became a terribly dark time in my life and I was unable to make anyone laugh. I couldn't even see the sun on a bright summer day, let alone imagine the type of island life that Hemingway was blessed to live. Something terrible happened to me that day, it changed my life forever and almost stole the joy and laughter right out of my life forever. As surely as a hurricane claims it's victims, whether they are human, animal or material items, I floundered and nearly succumbed to the force of one mistake. And it wasn't even a mistake really. It was an unavoidable accident. Because believe me, if I had seen it coming, I would have run for high ground at the first inkling that something was wrong. I would not have waited for the governor to tell me it was time to evacuate.
Though in the middle of trying to recover from Hurricane Bel Air, I discovered something: that even when it seemed like God had left me alone to wallow in my mess and find my own way out of it, at that very moment He was reaching out His mighty and powerful hand to help me up, brush me off and set my feet upon the solid rock of His foundation. I discovered that when life's circumstances have beaten me down so much that I have to look up to see the ground, that God is right there with me. All I have to do is have faith the size of a mustard seed and I can, well, move mountains.
Thursday, November 1, 2012
Giving Thanks for Laughter
I turned the calendar page and suddenly the end of the year frenzy is about to engulf us all once again. Not me. Not this year. With each passing year I become more and more disgusted, discouraged and disengaged from the holiday rush. I love having my family for Thanksgiving dinner and I love having them over for Christmas. I do NOT love the commercialization that has consumed our country and I do my dead level best not to succumb to it. This year I am even more resolved not to give in.
This year, we will once again enjoy the opportunity to gather as a family in our home. We will eat and laugh, play some games with the gusto of the most rabid of NFL fans, laugh some more at each other, at ourselves and at ridiculous things we will make up, not to mention stories from that past that may or may not have an element of truth to them. We will probably eat again. And did I happen to mention we will laugh?
That's because a wiser person than me once said, "laugh and the world laughs with you, weep and you weep alone." Sometimes, it is important to weep with someone else. Empathy should not be a lost art in our society. When someone is truly hurting often there are no words of comfort. But when you look into the face of your dearest friend and see them share the burden of your heart through their tears or the pain in your own eyes reflected in theirs, it is somehow comforting.
But I digress.
Laughing though? It makes everything seem somehow more bearable. I have laughed at some absolutely inappropriate times and felt bad about it. That is, until someone else joins in and suddenly a terrible burden is somehow made lighter if only for the few minutes our minds were not fixated on it.
November. Thanksgiving. There is much to be thankful for and laughter, even irreverent laughter is one of them.
I have tried to instill in my kids the sense that being thankful isn't just something we do one day out of the year; it should be a mindset, a way of life, something that we look for each day. I don't know if I've been fully successful with this yet, but I sure do have hope when I hear one of them say, "Mom, look at the sky! Isn't the sunset beautiful? It's so cool that God reminds us of Himself with the colors of the sky."
Indeed it is kiddo.
And then I say a prayer for thankfulness for God's goodness and faithfulness.
This year, we will once again enjoy the opportunity to gather as a family in our home. We will eat and laugh, play some games with the gusto of the most rabid of NFL fans, laugh some more at each other, at ourselves and at ridiculous things we will make up, not to mention stories from that past that may or may not have an element of truth to them. We will probably eat again. And did I happen to mention we will laugh?
That's because a wiser person than me once said, "laugh and the world laughs with you, weep and you weep alone." Sometimes, it is important to weep with someone else. Empathy should not be a lost art in our society. When someone is truly hurting often there are no words of comfort. But when you look into the face of your dearest friend and see them share the burden of your heart through their tears or the pain in your own eyes reflected in theirs, it is somehow comforting.
But I digress.
Laughing though? It makes everything seem somehow more bearable. I have laughed at some absolutely inappropriate times and felt bad about it. That is, until someone else joins in and suddenly a terrible burden is somehow made lighter if only for the few minutes our minds were not fixated on it.
November. Thanksgiving. There is much to be thankful for and laughter, even irreverent laughter is one of them.
I have tried to instill in my kids the sense that being thankful isn't just something we do one day out of the year; it should be a mindset, a way of life, something that we look for each day. I don't know if I've been fully successful with this yet, but I sure do have hope when I hear one of them say, "Mom, look at the sky! Isn't the sunset beautiful? It's so cool that God reminds us of Himself with the colors of the sky."
Indeed it is kiddo.
And then I say a prayer for thankfulness for God's goodness and faithfulness.
Thursday, September 13, 2012
Intercede
No words come, only tears
tears that You say You collect
Holy Spirit, intercede on my behalf
and take the doubt
the tears
the pain
the disappointment
the shame
the embarrassment
the anger
to the loving Father.
Intercede on my behalf
because I don't know how to pray
right now.
Intercede...
intercede...
tears that You say You collect
Holy Spirit, intercede on my behalf
and take the doubt
the tears
the pain
the disappointment
the shame
the embarrassment
the anger
to the loving Father.
Intercede on my behalf
because I don't know how to pray
right now.
Intercede...
intercede...
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
A Year Ago...
Dad 02/05/1937 - 09/12/2011
A year ago today, my Dad died and since then, I have learned some things that I would not have been able to articulate prior to that day. During the run up to his death, there were many people who prayed for my family and through texts, phone calls and visits to the hospital, offered their assistance if we needed anything. At the time, I was at a loss to explain what we may have needed, but it was comforting to know that help was available if I ever figured out what would be helpful.
During the week between his death and the memorial service, I tried to grasp the utter depth of Christ's love that I experienced, though my human heart was deeply unsettled by the fact that I did not know for sure if I would ever see Dad in Heaven or not. As a Christian, I felt as if I had failed to show him what he needed to see in order to renew a commitment he had made years before I was ever born. I was unable to acknowledge that it is only through God and a willing heart that a person makes a decision to serve Him. God does not remove our free will. Because of this, in spite of what I did or failed to do, ultimately, the decision was Dad's to make regardless of what he saw in me.
At different times, this past year has been very dark for me. There have been countless times when I wanted nothing more than to hear my Dad's voice, to be able to visit him and laugh with him about something. There were difficult situations that came up and I thought I needed or wanted his advice about them. The irony of it was that if he was still available, these situations would not have come up in the first place. It was a strange juxtaposition and difficult to think about. NASCAR started without him to talk to and I could hardly watch the Superbowl without fighting tears. When the girls had their first swim meet at home, I almost started crying at the pool remembering the times last year when he was there, though it must have been physically painful for him to make the effort.
Dad reading to kids Gburg 2003
There were (and still are) times at church when someone will pick one of the songs we sang at his funeral and it never fails to take me back to his service and make me miss him all over again. Mom and I played, "In the Garden" and I can hardly stand to even think about that song anymore and I'm not sure I will ever be able to hear Dad's favorite, "How Great Thou Art", without thinking of the impact that song has had on my family or without fighting tears. My friend's Grandfather died six months after Dad did and some of the details of his life's end were eerily reminiscent of Dad's death and hard to hear about at the time. The list goes on and on...
As an introvert, I find it incredibly hard to talk about this stuff. I view my own tears as a weakness and I am frustrated with myself when they come in public and even sometimes at home. Crying feels out of control to me and I don't like that feeling. Yet, there have been times in the past year when I have utterly failed in keeping them at bay. I know there are things I need to say aloud, but it has only been recently that I have been able to articulate the depth of the loss. In the interim, I turned to composing music (don't worry, you aren't going to be hearing any of it any time soon!), writing (of course) and I started a different blog about grief, though most of what I have written is archived, unpublished and will probably remain so for the foreseeable future.
However during the past year, there is one thing that has been evident: even in the midst of the pain, I have seen the face of God, His love and mercy. It was evidenced to me first in nature. I started walking and I would see His love in the beauty of the intricate details of the Queen Anne's Lace that dotted the trails. When I took the kids to the lake this past summer, a heron took flight and I was reminded of the freedom I have in Christ. Its' mournful call was reminiscent of the cry of my own heart and I thought, "I hear you buddy and so does God. He sees both of us." I watched sunsets and sunrises that colored the horizons in vibrant colors that could only come from the hand of the Creator and I saw His majesty and sheer power in the constellations. When the sun continued to rise in the East, I heard him beckon to me: "Trust Me, daughter. I am still in control."
Geese fly in a "V" formation for good reason; they get to their destination faster since they have an aerodynamic advantage in flying this way. The "point" goose flies until it is tired and then drops back so the next can take over. The geese in the back honk their encouragement to the ones in the front. If one goose gets sick and lands, at least two others go down with it and stay until the sick goose either recovers or dies.
Dad with B one day old 10/12/2001
I'm not dead yet, but I have certainly been grounded this year; sick, wounded, wondering if I would recover from this loss of my Dad in addition to other problems weighing me down. And yet, as I watched the geese fly south last Fall and when they returned in the Spring, I knew that my brothers and sisters in Christ were "grounded" with me while at the same time encouraging me to persevere. There were ones who sat with me early on and didn't judge me when all I could do was come up with one-liners to laugh about while inside my heart was breaking. There were ones who sent cards and made phone calls or sent text messages, thereby reminding me that I was not alone. One person has asked me at least 52 times (I am not exaggerating. This person has asked me at least weekly, if not more) since last September 12, how I was doing and if there was anything that they could do. This never failed to remind me that I was not alone; that others remembered the loss my family had sustained. Others have allowed me to vent my hurt, frustration and anger over things that happened that should have been handled in different ways which reminded me that even when things seem out of control, God is always in control.
Dad and Richard in Gburg 06/2011
Through it all, they have shown me the depth of the love that Christ has for me. They temporarily halted their own progress to sit in the meadow with me, their wounded sister, so that I would not lose sight of the mercy of Jesus. There are no adequate words to thank them for this; only a humbleness and gratefulness of heart that they would take the time to show the mercy of Christ to a hurting soul.
I still miss my Dad, but I think I have a little better perspective on it now. A year ago, it was so bad, I thought I might not survive. When I lost sight of the goal of Heaven, someone would say something I needed to hear or something would happen and I would remember where my hope is. It isn't based upon anything this world has to offer; it is found only in my risen Savior. I have been living in the secret place of the Most High in the shadow of the Almighty, while He hid and protected my soul during this past year and I know that He will continue to uphold me with His right hand of righteousness.
I don't think I'm flying yet, but I will be soon and when I am back in formation, I won't forget my brothers and sisters who "grounded" themselves and reached out to help. Then it will be my turn to encourage someone else along the way. That's how it works in God's family and I'm grateful to be a part of it.
Revelation 21:4 And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away.
Psalm 91:1-2 He that dwelleth in the secret place of the most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty.
2 I will say of the LORD, He is my refuge and my fortress: my God; in him will I trust.
Isaiah 41:10 Fear thou not; for I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness.
Psalm 62: 5-8 My soul, wait thou only upon God; for my expectation is from him.
6 He only is my rock and my salvation: he is my defense; I shall not be moved.
7 In God is my salvation and my glory: the rock of my strength and my refuge, is in God.
8 Trust in him at all times; ye people, pour out your heart before him: God is a refuge for us. Selah.
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
The Splendor of Your Creation
The Splendor of Your Creation
As the sun sinks in the western sky
and the horizon is painted in a beautiful lullaby
I ponder the clouds in their pink and blue dress
while night creeps, bidding me rest.
In the majesty of the mountains
in the rolling waves of the sea
in the beauty of the sunrise
I can see your love for me.
How majestic is the eagle
soaring freely on it's path
and the rose upon it's petal catch
a drop of rain from a summer bath.
While in the beauty of the setting sun
in the rolling waves of the sea
in the majesty of the eagle
Your love has set me free.
T. Bent
07/17/2004
Dedicated to Michael T. Deffely, Sr. who has shown me what freedom in Christ truly means.
As the sun sinks in the western sky
and the horizon is painted in a beautiful lullaby
I ponder the clouds in their pink and blue dress
while night creeps, bidding me rest.
In the majesty of the mountains
in the rolling waves of the sea
in the beauty of the sunrise
I can see your love for me.
How majestic is the eagle
soaring freely on it's path
and the rose upon it's petal catch
a drop of rain from a summer bath.
While in the beauty of the setting sun
in the rolling waves of the sea
in the majesty of the eagle
Your love has set me free.
T. Bent
07/17/2004
Dedicated to Michael T. Deffely, Sr. who has shown me what freedom in Christ truly means.
Friday, July 13, 2012
Roof Demolishing Faith
(please dim the house lights, I replaced the bulbs recently)
Once upon a time there were four friends. Three could run all over the place without a care in the world. They had never known a day when they had to think about how to get from place to place. Not so for the fourth friend; he had palsy and was unable to walk. I imagine he was frustrated by his physical limitations. He probably wondered what it would be like to stand, walk, run, jump, go from place to place without having to rely on other people to take him. Maybe he was even jealous of his ambulatory friends every now and then.
One day they heard that Jesus was going to be around and there were rampant rumors that He was able to heal people. The friends were excited! What if they took their sick friend over to where Jesus was? What if he could heal him? That would be so cool because then they could all run about the country side together. The friends quickly decided to carry their sick friend to the Healer and see what happened. So, they picked up the bed he was laying on and proceeded to go to the house where Jesus was teaching. They were going to take their friend to be healed! Pretty cool friends this guy had right?
As they got closer to the place where Jesus was, their steps began to slow and eventually they stopped. There were people everywhere! The crowd in the house had spilled out into the street. As far as they could see there was wall to wall people and the hope of getting their friend to Jesus seemed impossible.
To make matters worse, those standing outside probably said it was futile for them to try and continue their journey. "You're never going to get close enough to see Jesus. You might as well go back the way you came. You aren't going to get healed today, that's for sure. There's too many people here." The disappointment and discouragement on the four friends faces must have been evident.
But you know what? These friends were on a mission! They had heard of the power that Jesus had to heal the sick and they weren't going to let a measly old multitude of people stand in the way. So, the friends called a pow-wow at the side of the road and tried to determine the best course of action. "How will we get close enough to Jesus for Him to heal our friend? That was the question on everyone's mind. While they were discussing their options, one of them gazed up at the roof of the house where Jesus was and suddenly, EUREKA! <---I'm pretty sure eureka is Aramaic.
We're going to the rooftop!
They carefully picked their way through the crowd and up the the steps to the roof where they proceeded to tear it off. The people who were standing inside the house must have wondered about the dust and debris that began to fall upon them, to say nothing of the noise! Jesus knew though. He knew the faith that drove these four men to overcome all the obstacles that stood between them and getting their friend close enough to Him.
Because when you truly believe in something, then suddenly nothing stands in your way; not your dissenters, finances, your past, your health, the economy, the weather, excuses. When you believe in something you are sold out to the cause. Your excitement is infectious and you are willing to do whatever it takes to reach your goal, including tearing the roof off of someone's house to find the Saviour. That's what faith does. It keeps going when the odds say it's ludicrous to continue. And these four friends? They believed in the power of Jesus to heal, no matter what it cost them to find it.
When there was a sufficient hole in the roof, the three friends lowered the fourth man to the floor of the house and he came to rest at the feet of Jesus. You know what he said? "Your sins are forgiven. Take up your bed." So, he did. He stood on faith alone. It was faith that had carried him to that point and it was faith that drove him to stand on legs that had never carried his weight.
I can only imagine the absolute gratefulness and thanksgiving that he must have given to God as he walked out of that house a healed man; both spiritually and physically.
(lights please)
A couple of weeks ago, the kids attended Backyard Bible Club; hereinafter referred to as BYBC.
Personally, I don't think we use the word "hereinafter" enough in everyday speech. Maybe attorneys do, but I'm not an attorney. Thus, you have witnessed my personal campaign to bring "hereinafter" back into vogue.
But, surprise! I digress...(I know you were waiting for my digression)
BYBC is basically Bible school only someone hosts it in their backyard instead of at church. My sister's church has been doing this for quite some time now and my kids look forward to going every year. This year one of my nieces (hi, Melody) was in charge of the songs and aerobic workout hour. I mean songs and motions. You know you can't have Bible school without doing motions to the songs. I mean really, who wants to sing about the Wise Man and the Foolish Man building their respective houses without doing the motions? And don't even try to sing "Father Abraham" while sitting down. I believe it's against Mosaic Law. You could do a quick check in Leviticus to find out for sure though.
For the record, if I had to do what Melody had the kids doing, I would have needed to be in traction for at least a week after BYBC. Also for the record, it was abundantly obvious that a) Melody has copious talent in this area and b) it was abundantly obvious that the kids attending BYBC thoroughly enjoyed the songs and movement Melody made up to go with them!
One of the songs the kids sang was "Tear the Roof Off" which you now know was based upon the healing of the man with palsy. I really liked the song when the kids sang it on the last day of BYBC, but it wasn't until I was listening to the CD of all the music they used that week, when I was really impacted by the words. In the face of people who discouraged them from trying to see Jesus, these guys made sure their friend encountered a living God, one with the power to heal, not just physically, but spiritually too. The healing that man experienced when Jesus said, "Your sins are forgiven" is even more powerful than the healing he received in his physical body. In doing so, Jesus gave him a story. Before he was just another man with palsy, destined to rely on everyone else for sustenance but now, through his divine healing, he was able to point others to Christ.
How about you? Do you have the kind of faith that drives you to "tear the roof off"?
Mark 2:1-12 And when he came into Capernaum again after some days, the news went about that he was in the house.
2 And a great number had come together, so that there was no longer room for them, no, not even about the door: and he gave them teaching.
3 And four men came to him with one on a bed who had no power of moving.
4 And when they were unable to get near him because of all the people, they got the roof uncovered there he was: and when it was broken up, they let down the bed on which the man was.
5 And Jesus, seeing their faith, said to him, Son, you have forgiveness for your sins.
6 But there were certain of the scribes seated there, and reasoning in their hearts,
7 Why does this man say such things? he has no respect for God: from whom does forgiveness come but from God only?
8 And Jesus, having knowledge in his spirit of their thoughts, said to them, Why are you reasoning about these things in your hearts?
9 Which is the simpler, to say to a man who is ill, You have forgiveness for your sins, or, Get up, take up your bed, and go?
10 But so that you may see that the Son of man has authority for the forgiveness of sins on earth, he said to the man,
11 I say to you, Get up, take up your bed, and go to your house.
12 And he got up, and straight away took up the bed and went out before them all, so that they were all full of wonder, and gave glory to God, saying, We have never seen anything like this.
(For those of you who have read this post about my sister's and I sledding off the roof of our house, as far as I know none of the four of these people mentioned in Mark were related to us. After all, they were doing something important and serious and we were just fooling around....story of our lives!)
Once upon a time there were four friends. Three could run all over the place without a care in the world. They had never known a day when they had to think about how to get from place to place. Not so for the fourth friend; he had palsy and was unable to walk. I imagine he was frustrated by his physical limitations. He probably wondered what it would be like to stand, walk, run, jump, go from place to place without having to rely on other people to take him. Maybe he was even jealous of his ambulatory friends every now and then.
One day they heard that Jesus was going to be around and there were rampant rumors that He was able to heal people. The friends were excited! What if they took their sick friend over to where Jesus was? What if he could heal him? That would be so cool because then they could all run about the country side together. The friends quickly decided to carry their sick friend to the Healer and see what happened. So, they picked up the bed he was laying on and proceeded to go to the house where Jesus was teaching. They were going to take their friend to be healed! Pretty cool friends this guy had right?
As they got closer to the place where Jesus was, their steps began to slow and eventually they stopped. There were people everywhere! The crowd in the house had spilled out into the street. As far as they could see there was wall to wall people and the hope of getting their friend to Jesus seemed impossible.
To make matters worse, those standing outside probably said it was futile for them to try and continue their journey. "You're never going to get close enough to see Jesus. You might as well go back the way you came. You aren't going to get healed today, that's for sure. There's too many people here." The disappointment and discouragement on the four friends faces must have been evident.
But you know what? These friends were on a mission! They had heard of the power that Jesus had to heal the sick and they weren't going to let a measly old multitude of people stand in the way. So, the friends called a pow-wow at the side of the road and tried to determine the best course of action. "How will we get close enough to Jesus for Him to heal our friend? That was the question on everyone's mind. While they were discussing their options, one of them gazed up at the roof of the house where Jesus was and suddenly, EUREKA! <---I'm pretty sure eureka is Aramaic.
We're going to the rooftop!
They carefully picked their way through the crowd and up the the steps to the roof where they proceeded to tear it off. The people who were standing inside the house must have wondered about the dust and debris that began to fall upon them, to say nothing of the noise! Jesus knew though. He knew the faith that drove these four men to overcome all the obstacles that stood between them and getting their friend close enough to Him.
Because when you truly believe in something, then suddenly nothing stands in your way; not your dissenters, finances, your past, your health, the economy, the weather, excuses. When you believe in something you are sold out to the cause. Your excitement is infectious and you are willing to do whatever it takes to reach your goal, including tearing the roof off of someone's house to find the Saviour. That's what faith does. It keeps going when the odds say it's ludicrous to continue. And these four friends? They believed in the power of Jesus to heal, no matter what it cost them to find it.
When there was a sufficient hole in the roof, the three friends lowered the fourth man to the floor of the house and he came to rest at the feet of Jesus. You know what he said? "Your sins are forgiven. Take up your bed." So, he did. He stood on faith alone. It was faith that had carried him to that point and it was faith that drove him to stand on legs that had never carried his weight.
I can only imagine the absolute gratefulness and thanksgiving that he must have given to God as he walked out of that house a healed man; both spiritually and physically.
(lights please)
A couple of weeks ago, the kids attended Backyard Bible Club; hereinafter referred to as BYBC.
Personally, I don't think we use the word "hereinafter" enough in everyday speech. Maybe attorneys do, but I'm not an attorney. Thus, you have witnessed my personal campaign to bring "hereinafter" back into vogue.
But, surprise! I digress...(I know you were waiting for my digression)
BYBC is basically Bible school only someone hosts it in their backyard instead of at church. My sister's church has been doing this for quite some time now and my kids look forward to going every year. This year one of my nieces (hi, Melody) was in charge of the songs and aerobic workout hour. I mean songs and motions. You know you can't have Bible school without doing motions to the songs. I mean really, who wants to sing about the Wise Man and the Foolish Man building their respective houses without doing the motions? And don't even try to sing "Father Abraham" while sitting down. I believe it's against Mosaic Law. You could do a quick check in Leviticus to find out for sure though.
For the record, if I had to do what Melody had the kids doing, I would have needed to be in traction for at least a week after BYBC. Also for the record, it was abundantly obvious that a) Melody has copious talent in this area and b) it was abundantly obvious that the kids attending BYBC thoroughly enjoyed the songs and movement Melody made up to go with them!
One of the songs the kids sang was "Tear the Roof Off" which you now know was based upon the healing of the man with palsy. I really liked the song when the kids sang it on the last day of BYBC, but it wasn't until I was listening to the CD of all the music they used that week, when I was really impacted by the words. In the face of people who discouraged them from trying to see Jesus, these guys made sure their friend encountered a living God, one with the power to heal, not just physically, but spiritually too. The healing that man experienced when Jesus said, "Your sins are forgiven" is even more powerful than the healing he received in his physical body. In doing so, Jesus gave him a story. Before he was just another man with palsy, destined to rely on everyone else for sustenance but now, through his divine healing, he was able to point others to Christ.
How about you? Do you have the kind of faith that drives you to "tear the roof off"?
Mark 2:1-12 And when he came into Capernaum again after some days, the news went about that he was in the house.
2 And a great number had come together, so that there was no longer room for them, no, not even about the door: and he gave them teaching.
3 And four men came to him with one on a bed who had no power of moving.
4 And when they were unable to get near him because of all the people, they got the roof uncovered there he was: and when it was broken up, they let down the bed on which the man was.
5 And Jesus, seeing their faith, said to him, Son, you have forgiveness for your sins.
6 But there were certain of the scribes seated there, and reasoning in their hearts,
7 Why does this man say such things? he has no respect for God: from whom does forgiveness come but from God only?
8 And Jesus, having knowledge in his spirit of their thoughts, said to them, Why are you reasoning about these things in your hearts?
9 Which is the simpler, to say to a man who is ill, You have forgiveness for your sins, or, Get up, take up your bed, and go?
10 But so that you may see that the Son of man has authority for the forgiveness of sins on earth, he said to the man,
11 I say to you, Get up, take up your bed, and go to your house.
12 And he got up, and straight away took up the bed and went out before them all, so that they were all full of wonder, and gave glory to God, saying, We have never seen anything like this.
(For those of you who have read this post about my sister's and I sledding off the roof of our house, as far as I know none of the four of these people mentioned in Mark were related to us. After all, they were doing something important and serious and we were just fooling around....story of our lives!)
Thursday, June 14, 2012
Jesus Wept
John 11:35 Jesus wept.
You know why? Because He was standing at the tomb of his friend Lazarus who had died a few days prior to Jesus' arrival in Bethany. And even though Jesus knew that Lazarus was going to die and even though He knew that He was going to perform a miracle in a few minutes, the significance is that Jesus was human and He was weeping at the tomb of His friend.
He was grieving.
Mary and Martha, Jesus' friends as well, were at their brother's tomb. They were also grieving over the loss of Lazarus and in a show of human solidarity, Jesus wept with them and for them. Perhaps He cried for His friend, perhaps for the loss Lazarus' sisters were experiencing or maybe Jesus wept because that is what humans do when those close to us grieve. It is possible that given His divine nature, Jesus wept over the utter senselessness and hopelessness of sin and it's ugly impact upon the people God created in His very own image. After all, death was not the way it was supposed to be and only came into existence after sin was ushered into the world.
I have seen the tears in other's eyes at grave sites, funeral homes, funerals, hospitals, etc. They are tears of empathy. If you are like me, it is difficult to know what to say when someone goes through the loss of a family member. I have been known to say, "I don't know what to say right now so I just want you to know that I am thinking of you and praying for you." I have also been known to say exactly nothing, hoping and praying that somehow my presence, a hug, my own tears, helps someone know that I care.
Jesus wept. It's the shortest verse in the Bible, but it carries a huge impact because it shows an extremely human characteristic. It shows just how much Jesus cared. It shows empathy, sympathy and an acknowledgement of our human frailty. It shows His care and concern for His friends. Ultimately, His tears showed His love towards them.
In a few days it will be Father's Day and I will experience this day without my Dad for the first time. I'm not looking forward to it and the tears have already come from time to time for the past week as I try to put his death into perspective. One thing I know though: If Jesus wept, then I can too.
Because Jesus understands.
You know why? Because He was standing at the tomb of his friend Lazarus who had died a few days prior to Jesus' arrival in Bethany. And even though Jesus knew that Lazarus was going to die and even though He knew that He was going to perform a miracle in a few minutes, the significance is that Jesus was human and He was weeping at the tomb of His friend.
He was grieving.
Mary and Martha, Jesus' friends as well, were at their brother's tomb. They were also grieving over the loss of Lazarus and in a show of human solidarity, Jesus wept with them and for them. Perhaps He cried for His friend, perhaps for the loss Lazarus' sisters were experiencing or maybe Jesus wept because that is what humans do when those close to us grieve. It is possible that given His divine nature, Jesus wept over the utter senselessness and hopelessness of sin and it's ugly impact upon the people God created in His very own image. After all, death was not the way it was supposed to be and only came into existence after sin was ushered into the world.
I have seen the tears in other's eyes at grave sites, funeral homes, funerals, hospitals, etc. They are tears of empathy. If you are like me, it is difficult to know what to say when someone goes through the loss of a family member. I have been known to say, "I don't know what to say right now so I just want you to know that I am thinking of you and praying for you." I have also been known to say exactly nothing, hoping and praying that somehow my presence, a hug, my own tears, helps someone know that I care.
Jesus wept. It's the shortest verse in the Bible, but it carries a huge impact because it shows an extremely human characteristic. It shows just how much Jesus cared. It shows empathy, sympathy and an acknowledgement of our human frailty. It shows His care and concern for His friends. Ultimately, His tears showed His love towards them.
In a few days it will be Father's Day and I will experience this day without my Dad for the first time. I'm not looking forward to it and the tears have already come from time to time for the past week as I try to put his death into perspective. One thing I know though: If Jesus wept, then I can too.
Because Jesus understands.
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
The Slinkity slinky
Once upon a time, three kids lived in a ranch style house in the country. Their neighbors were their grandparents and their aunt. Of course there were a few other unrelated people who lived on the same road, but they aren't part of this story today. However, the houses (both of them) that the intruders lived in were, at one time, occupied and/or built by members of our family as well. As you can see it was our road and we just allowed them to reside there. Honestly, I never figured out why the road wasn't called Bloomer Boulevard.
But I have already digressed and that was only the first paragraph!
Moving along...
It was the birthday of the youngest of the three kids. She had always dreamed of having a shiny new Slinky for her birthday. She talked about it non-stop to the other two kids who constantly had to tell her to shut up about the Slinky. Of course, this only caused her to sing the Slinky Song at the top of her lungs. Repeatedly. Loudly. And with the gusto of the criminally insane.
The Slinky was invented by the Bic Corporation and was originally part of the Bic pen. Any first year engineering student (no, not train engineers, mechanical engineers) knows that if you take your pen apart, you will see the small metal coil that lets you "click" your pen to advance the ink tip and click it again to retract it. One day the executives at Bic's corporate headquarters, were trying to figure out how to break into the toy industry because, let's face it; pens are pretty much all manufactured the same and are, in a word, boring.
Herman, the CEO's son, was bored. He hated these meetings and so he was absently and repeatedly clicking his pen, tearing it apart and putting it back together when he suddenly said, "By Bic, it's Slinky!" Everyone else just stared at him and clicked their Bics because Herman never had anything useful to contribute and everyone knew the only reason he had a job there was because he was the boss' kid. However, once they set aside their skepticism that Herman might have something valuable to say this time, they knew he was onto something.
After all, what kid wouldn't want a coiled spring to play with? It will walk down stairs! Alone! Possibly in pairs! It will make a slinkity sound! How utterly cool can this be?
Cue the angel chorus! "LAAAAAAAA!!!!"
Behold, the Slinky was born.
Which is why on February 21, 1977, my sister was running around the house dreaming of a Slinky. She continuously hounded me to tell her what she was getting for her birthday. I refused to comply, even when she threatened me with bodily harm because I would never stoop so low as to tell someone what they were getting for their birthday or Christmas. Never. Well, I might have been able to be bribed in order to disclose sensitive information, but no one ever tried that. Anyway, at some point she said, "Well, just give me a hint." So, I did. This was her hint:
Just by me singing the Slinky Song, repeatedly, loudly and with the gusto of the criminally insane, she figured out that she would be getting a Slinky for her birthday. That's because she was quick, my sister, oh yes indeed, she was smart for such a young age! They even wanted her to skip kindergarten because thanks to me, she knew everything there was to learn in that grade! Which by the way, she has never thanked me for so I'll need to discuss this with her in the near future.
But I digress. Again. That's twice so far for anyone counting.
Also, by just singing a commercial jingle, I stayed out of trouble for telling her, because technically, I was only singing a song albeit with a slight maniacal edge to it. Until Mom heard me and told me to stop it before Mel figured it out. Oops. Too late. Sorry Mom.
Finally, it was time for Mel to open her presents and wonder of all wonders! There was the prized, coveted and oft dreamed of Slinky.
Now what do we do with it?
The truth is, a Slinky is a rather useless and even slightly cruel toy to give to a kid who lives in a ranch house. There really is no real way to play with a Slinky in a house like that. So, since we had no stairs, we had to commandeer every book in the house so we could excitedly watch the Slink, as we lovingly referred to it, walk down the books.
Apparently, my sister's Slink was sort of like a toddler in that it would walk down approximately one encyclopedia before needing help to continue the journey to the next and the next...and..the...........next.
We ended up playing with the box since it was much more exciting than Herman's invention. Then one day we said, "Hey! That Slinky would make a great "clicker" in a giant pen!"
I said, "I'm already on it." After all, I was the writer of the family. Of course I would want a giant pen with which to write almost as much as my sister wanted that Slinky.
And now you know how those giant pens you see at Christmas were invented.
She got a Stretch Armstrong for Christmas that year too, but that's a story for a different post.
(The history and origin of the Slinky may or may not have happened that way. You will need to google and wikipedia that to find out more information.)
(Didn't you just love the green shag carpet on the stairs of the Slinky commercial? You just have to love the utter ugliness of the 70's! And it was as if no one ever thought to say, "You know, this really long carpet is kind of stupid and hard to keep clean and I'm really not all that excited about raking leaves so why do I want carpet that has to be raked as well?")
But I have already digressed and that was only the first paragraph!
Moving along...
It was the birthday of the youngest of the three kids. She had always dreamed of having a shiny new Slinky for her birthday. She talked about it non-stop to the other two kids who constantly had to tell her to shut up about the Slinky. Of course, this only caused her to sing the Slinky Song at the top of her lungs. Repeatedly. Loudly. And with the gusto of the criminally insane.
The Slinky was invented by the Bic Corporation and was originally part of the Bic pen. Any first year engineering student (no, not train engineers, mechanical engineers) knows that if you take your pen apart, you will see the small metal coil that lets you "click" your pen to advance the ink tip and click it again to retract it. One day the executives at Bic's corporate headquarters, were trying to figure out how to break into the toy industry because, let's face it; pens are pretty much all manufactured the same and are, in a word, boring.
Herman, the CEO's son, was bored. He hated these meetings and so he was absently and repeatedly clicking his pen, tearing it apart and putting it back together when he suddenly said, "By Bic, it's Slinky!" Everyone else just stared at him and clicked their Bics because Herman never had anything useful to contribute and everyone knew the only reason he had a job there was because he was the boss' kid. However, once they set aside their skepticism that Herman might have something valuable to say this time, they knew he was onto something.
After all, what kid wouldn't want a coiled spring to play with? It will walk down stairs! Alone! Possibly in pairs! It will make a slinkity sound! How utterly cool can this be?
Cue the angel chorus! "LAAAAAAAA!!!!"
Behold, the Slinky was born.
Which is why on February 21, 1977, my sister was running around the house dreaming of a Slinky. She continuously hounded me to tell her what she was getting for her birthday. I refused to comply, even when she threatened me with bodily harm because I would never stoop so low as to tell someone what they were getting for their birthday or Christmas. Never. Well, I might have been able to be bribed in order to disclose sensitive information, but no one ever tried that. Anyway, at some point she said, "Well, just give me a hint." So, I did. This was her hint:
Just by me singing the Slinky Song, repeatedly, loudly and with the gusto of the criminally insane, she figured out that she would be getting a Slinky for her birthday. That's because she was quick, my sister, oh yes indeed, she was smart for such a young age! They even wanted her to skip kindergarten because thanks to me, she knew everything there was to learn in that grade! Which by the way, she has never thanked me for so I'll need to discuss this with her in the near future.
But I digress. Again. That's twice so far for anyone counting.
Also, by just singing a commercial jingle, I stayed out of trouble for telling her, because technically, I was only singing a song albeit with a slight maniacal edge to it. Until Mom heard me and told me to stop it before Mel figured it out. Oops. Too late. Sorry Mom.
Finally, it was time for Mel to open her presents and wonder of all wonders! There was the prized, coveted and oft dreamed of Slinky.
Now what do we do with it?
The truth is, a Slinky is a rather useless and even slightly cruel toy to give to a kid who lives in a ranch house. There really is no real way to play with a Slinky in a house like that. So, since we had no stairs, we had to commandeer every book in the house so we could excitedly watch the Slink, as we lovingly referred to it, walk down the books.
Apparently, my sister's Slink was sort of like a toddler in that it would walk down approximately one encyclopedia before needing help to continue the journey to the next and the next...and..the...........next.
We ended up playing with the box since it was much more exciting than Herman's invention. Then one day we said, "Hey! That Slinky would make a great "clicker" in a giant pen!"
I said, "I'm already on it." After all, I was the writer of the family. Of course I would want a giant pen with which to write almost as much as my sister wanted that Slinky.
And now you know how those giant pens you see at Christmas were invented.
She got a Stretch Armstrong for Christmas that year too, but that's a story for a different post.
(The history and origin of the Slinky may or may not have happened that way. You will need to google and wikipedia that to find out more information.)
(Didn't you just love the green shag carpet on the stairs of the Slinky commercial? You just have to love the utter ugliness of the 70's! And it was as if no one ever thought to say, "You know, this really long carpet is kind of stupid and hard to keep clean and I'm really not all that excited about raking leaves so why do I want carpet that has to be raked as well?")
Friday, February 10, 2012
Pieces of the Puzzle
The puzzle that has taken over the last few months of my life is finally taking shape. The picture has become clearer as time has moved us ever onward, away from the events leading up to September 12, 2011, and the final pieces will slip into place in the near future. The picture of this phase of my life is almost complete.
When Dad died and everything seemed to fall apart, I kept praying, (ok, honestly, it was begging) for God to show me what I was supposed to be learning from everything that had transpired. I asked for Him to write it on the wall, show me in the Bible, show me through Mike, show me through Tim's sermons, show me through BSF, show me through friends and family, show me through quiet meditation just exactly what I am supposed to learn from everything that seemed so out of control. What am I missing? What lessons can I teach my kids through this?
I didn't understand.
I was hurt.
Others around me were hurting.
I'm a fixer, but I couldn't fix this.
I did not want to say or do something to cause further hurt to someone else.
There were times when I couldn't stop the tears.
Times when I doubted absolutely everything except for two things: God's faithfulness to me and trusting Mike to keep things going.
I begged God to let others see Him through me.
I was afraid of making mistakes that could jeopardize someone else's journey to finding a relationship with God.
But my tenuous hold on control had slipped out of my hands and everything seemed to spiral downward. Control is an illusion anyway, and while I understand this, when everything collapses at one time, I start trying to grab for it wherever I can. Dumb. God is in control. I know this. I believe this. But tensions were high and so much seemed...wrong. Walking on Grief Road, people say and do things that don't make sense, unless you are the one saying or doing them. Since we all have different relationships with the person who has died, since we all have different personalities, we all grieve differently. What makes sense to one person is ludicrous to someone else, possibly even offensive to them and I had to constantly remind myself of this simple truth.
One of the most difficult things I have experienced in this process is in trying to remember that someone else is probably reacting in grief, not in deliberate ways to cause hurt. For me, this has been almost has hard as standing by the bedside watching Dad take his last breath and waiting for his heart to stop as it beat endlessly on after that breath, almost as difficult as watching him shed yellow tears, almost as difficult as watching his blue eyes never open again even though he was still alive, almost as difficult as trying to discern what he was saying the last day he was conscious and was virtually unable to talk anymore, almost as difficult as watching one of the strongest men I have ever known lay so sick in a hospital bed.
The answers came, bit by bit, in the still of the night or in the sunny, strange winter we have had this year, through kind words spoken by friends, songs at church, the smile of someone confined to a wheelchair, through helping someone else, through the baptism of my son. All of these things combined to open my ears to hear God say, "See, T? I'm here and I'm still in control. Watch."
He said:
Trust, T. Are you going to really trust me? I might ask you to give up your house. I might ask you to give up homeschooling. I might ask you to give up absolutely everything, including your family, your job, your health, Mike's health. I might strip everything away that you are relying on. Will you trust Me then, when everything is gone?
Patience, T. Patience has never been a strong quality of yours. Can you be patient and allow Me to do my will? Can you be still and know?
Rest, T. Can you trust me enough and be patient enough to rest in Me? Being able to fully rest in Me, requires trust and patience. Can you do it?
The writing on the wall came with these truths spoken to my sometimes out of control, worried, mind. When the "what if's" came, I learned to shut them down. I learned to say, "Yes, maybe that will happen, but what if, just for one minute, you entertain that letting go is what God wants for right now?" I learned to be able to say, "A, B, or C might happen, but what if when you let A, B, or C go, that D is a better option? What if that's the way God wants you to go, but He can't do that until you are willing to give up what you are holding tightly in your fist?
So, I learned to let it go.
I learned to say:
If it costs my family, I will still follow you, God.
If it means giving up the house, then I will believe there's something else out there for us.
If my job is gone, then I will believe there's something else that I am supposed to be doing.
If every single thing crumbles in my hands, then I will still believe that You, God, are the One in control, not me.
I'm not perfect at this and acknowledge that I never will be. I still doubt and wonder and sometimes worry, but the rest and perfect peace that came when I opened my tightly clenched fists, let go of what i was holding onto and fully trusted God in the middle of all of this is unmistakable.
I believe that the final pieces of this particular puzzle will be revealed soon and then there will be another puzzle to work on. With God's help, I hope I remember the lessons of this one to take with me as we work on the next one.
Psalm 46:10 Be still, and know that I am God: I will be exalted among the heathen, I will be exalted in the earth.
Matthew 11:28 Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.
Isaiah 26:3 Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on thee: because he trusteth in thee.
Romans 12:10-12 Be kindly affectioned one to another with brotherly love; in honour preferring one another;
11 Not slothful in business; fervent in spirit; serving the Lord;
12 Rejoicing in hope; patient in tribulation; continuing instant in prayer;
Isaiah 25:8 He will swallow up death in victory; and the Lord GOD will wipe away tears from off all faces; and the rebuke of his people shall he take away from off all the earth: for the LORD hath spoken it.
Revelation 21:4 And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away.
When Dad died and everything seemed to fall apart, I kept praying, (ok, honestly, it was begging) for God to show me what I was supposed to be learning from everything that had transpired. I asked for Him to write it on the wall, show me in the Bible, show me through Mike, show me through Tim's sermons, show me through BSF, show me through friends and family, show me through quiet meditation just exactly what I am supposed to learn from everything that seemed so out of control. What am I missing? What lessons can I teach my kids through this?
I didn't understand.
I was hurt.
Others around me were hurting.
I'm a fixer, but I couldn't fix this.
I did not want to say or do something to cause further hurt to someone else.
There were times when I couldn't stop the tears.
Times when I doubted absolutely everything except for two things: God's faithfulness to me and trusting Mike to keep things going.
I begged God to let others see Him through me.
I was afraid of making mistakes that could jeopardize someone else's journey to finding a relationship with God.
But my tenuous hold on control had slipped out of my hands and everything seemed to spiral downward. Control is an illusion anyway, and while I understand this, when everything collapses at one time, I start trying to grab for it wherever I can. Dumb. God is in control. I know this. I believe this. But tensions were high and so much seemed...wrong. Walking on Grief Road, people say and do things that don't make sense, unless you are the one saying or doing them. Since we all have different relationships with the person who has died, since we all have different personalities, we all grieve differently. What makes sense to one person is ludicrous to someone else, possibly even offensive to them and I had to constantly remind myself of this simple truth.
One of the most difficult things I have experienced in this process is in trying to remember that someone else is probably reacting in grief, not in deliberate ways to cause hurt. For me, this has been almost has hard as standing by the bedside watching Dad take his last breath and waiting for his heart to stop as it beat endlessly on after that breath, almost as difficult as watching him shed yellow tears, almost as difficult as watching his blue eyes never open again even though he was still alive, almost as difficult as trying to discern what he was saying the last day he was conscious and was virtually unable to talk anymore, almost as difficult as watching one of the strongest men I have ever known lay so sick in a hospital bed.
The answers came, bit by bit, in the still of the night or in the sunny, strange winter we have had this year, through kind words spoken by friends, songs at church, the smile of someone confined to a wheelchair, through helping someone else, through the baptism of my son. All of these things combined to open my ears to hear God say, "See, T? I'm here and I'm still in control. Watch."
He said:
Trust, T. Are you going to really trust me? I might ask you to give up your house. I might ask you to give up homeschooling. I might ask you to give up absolutely everything, including your family, your job, your health, Mike's health. I might strip everything away that you are relying on. Will you trust Me then, when everything is gone?
Patience, T. Patience has never been a strong quality of yours. Can you be patient and allow Me to do my will? Can you be still and know?
Rest, T. Can you trust me enough and be patient enough to rest in Me? Being able to fully rest in Me, requires trust and patience. Can you do it?
The writing on the wall came with these truths spoken to my sometimes out of control, worried, mind. When the "what if's" came, I learned to shut them down. I learned to say, "Yes, maybe that will happen, but what if, just for one minute, you entertain that letting go is what God wants for right now?" I learned to be able to say, "A, B, or C might happen, but what if when you let A, B, or C go, that D is a better option? What if that's the way God wants you to go, but He can't do that until you are willing to give up what you are holding tightly in your fist?
So, I learned to let it go.
I learned to say:
If it costs my family, I will still follow you, God.
If it means giving up the house, then I will believe there's something else out there for us.
If my job is gone, then I will believe there's something else that I am supposed to be doing.
If every single thing crumbles in my hands, then I will still believe that You, God, are the One in control, not me.
I'm not perfect at this and acknowledge that I never will be. I still doubt and wonder and sometimes worry, but the rest and perfect peace that came when I opened my tightly clenched fists, let go of what i was holding onto and fully trusted God in the middle of all of this is unmistakable.
I believe that the final pieces of this particular puzzle will be revealed soon and then there will be another puzzle to work on. With God's help, I hope I remember the lessons of this one to take with me as we work on the next one.
Psalm 46:10 Be still, and know that I am God: I will be exalted among the heathen, I will be exalted in the earth.
Matthew 11:28 Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.
Isaiah 26:3 Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on thee: because he trusteth in thee.
Romans 12:10-12 Be kindly affectioned one to another with brotherly love; in honour preferring one another;
11 Not slothful in business; fervent in spirit; serving the Lord;
12 Rejoicing in hope; patient in tribulation; continuing instant in prayer;
Isaiah 25:8 He will swallow up death in victory; and the Lord GOD will wipe away tears from off all faces; and the rebuke of his people shall he take away from off all the earth: for the LORD hath spoken it.
Revelation 21:4 And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away.
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
The Great Reunion
Picture this:
One day you are going about your normal routine when you suddenly hear a shout. It's loud, explosive, authoritative; whoever it belongs to certainly means business. This shout is something everyone can hear. Your curiosity is piqued so you head outside to see what the racket is about.
Are the neighbors fighting again?
Is there a home football game tonight?
Kids arguing over the last slice of pizza?
Maybe you recognize the voice and it sounds inviting to you. Maybe you don't and it gives you cause to tremble a little. You ask, "What's going on here?" The rest of the world is suddenly and eerily silent, poised at the precipice of something epic, something that you can't quite explain.
On the heels of the shout, you hear another sound, another voice. What was that? Who was that? What is going on here? You have now heard the voice of the archangel. This isn't some cherubic baby looking angel you see around Valentine's Day. This voice is loud, commanding and it belongs to a warrior. One of God's messengers. Maybe it's Gabriel, who brought the news to Mary that she would bear God's Son. Maybe it's Michael:
Revelation 12:7 - 9 And there was war in heaven: Michael and his angels fought against the dragon; and the dragon fought and his angels,
8 And prevailed not; neither was their place found any more in heaven.
9 And the great dragon was cast out, that old serpent, called the Devil, and Satan, which deceiveth the whole world: he was cast out into the earth, and his angels were cast out with him.
Maybe we don't know this archangel's name. But make no mistake, this guy means business and his booming voice follows on the heels of the Lord's triumphant, majestic call to His own.
As you advance to your yard, you hear a trumpet blast. This sound comes straight from the Lord's trumpet. You can hear the perfect pitches of this instrument, a crescendo of whole notes mixed with half notes, building to eighth notes and sixteenths. This wall of heavenly sound continues it's crescendo in equal parts to the pomp and circumstance now unfolding in the Heavens. Who has seen and heard the Lord's trumpet? This fanfare has never been heard on Earth before. This is a fanfare worthy of heralding the arrival of a risen King, as the sky splits open and you and the rest of mankind see the majesty of the Saviour.
But that's not all! Suddenly, the sky is filled with people that you know for a fact have died. How can this be? Your Grandma is rising to meet her Jesus! There's Grandpa not far behind! Your neighbor, your old pastor and the guy down the street, they are all ascending to the Heavens. As you look on in wonder, the sky is filled with saints long buried in their graves!
You are overwhelmed by this sight, by this reunion in the sky. You begin to sink to your knees. You knew this would happen because you believed and you read about it, and yet the fulfillment of it is still too amazing and awesome and powerful to have fully sunk in; Christ has returned for His people, just like He said He would.
But your knees never meet your perfectly manicured lawn, because at the very moment you fell in reverence to God, He gathered you to His side. You have been caught up with Christ, with the saints who died before and those who still remained alive at His return for His church.
The bridegroom has returned for His bride.
And all that's left is eternity.
None of the junk of this life matters anymore.
No more bone tired weariness.
No tears.
No longing.
No wishing to go home, because finally, finally, you are there. Your journey is complete.
All that's left now is the continual praise for a loving, faithful Father. All that's left now is the continual praise for God the Holy Spirit who is always with you, even at the darkest times of your life. All that's left now is the continual praise of God the Son, the sacrificial lamb who's atoning blood made this entire scenario possible for you.
All that's left now is eternity with the Lord and nothing else matters anymore.
Find comfort in this: He's coming back. Someday. Be ready and watchful. Because we don't know when it will be, but we rest on the promise that it will be, whether we go first when He opens our grave or second, while we are going about our daily routine. However it may happen for you, be assured, you won't miss the call. The shout from the Lord and the trumpet of God will be music to our longing ears.
What a reunion that will be.
1 Thessalonians 4:16-18:
18 For the Lord Himself shall descend from Heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel and with the trump of God and the dead in Christ shall arise first.
17 Then, we which are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air and so shall we ever be with the Lord.
18 Wherefore, comfort one another with these words.
One day you are going about your normal routine when you suddenly hear a shout. It's loud, explosive, authoritative; whoever it belongs to certainly means business. This shout is something everyone can hear. Your curiosity is piqued so you head outside to see what the racket is about.
Are the neighbors fighting again?
Is there a home football game tonight?
Kids arguing over the last slice of pizza?
Maybe you recognize the voice and it sounds inviting to you. Maybe you don't and it gives you cause to tremble a little. You ask, "What's going on here?" The rest of the world is suddenly and eerily silent, poised at the precipice of something epic, something that you can't quite explain.
On the heels of the shout, you hear another sound, another voice. What was that? Who was that? What is going on here? You have now heard the voice of the archangel. This isn't some cherubic baby looking angel you see around Valentine's Day. This voice is loud, commanding and it belongs to a warrior. One of God's messengers. Maybe it's Gabriel, who brought the news to Mary that she would bear God's Son. Maybe it's Michael:
Revelation 12:7 - 9 And there was war in heaven: Michael and his angels fought against the dragon; and the dragon fought and his angels,
8 And prevailed not; neither was their place found any more in heaven.
9 And the great dragon was cast out, that old serpent, called the Devil, and Satan, which deceiveth the whole world: he was cast out into the earth, and his angels were cast out with him.
Maybe we don't know this archangel's name. But make no mistake, this guy means business and his booming voice follows on the heels of the Lord's triumphant, majestic call to His own.
As you advance to your yard, you hear a trumpet blast. This sound comes straight from the Lord's trumpet. You can hear the perfect pitches of this instrument, a crescendo of whole notes mixed with half notes, building to eighth notes and sixteenths. This wall of heavenly sound continues it's crescendo in equal parts to the pomp and circumstance now unfolding in the Heavens. Who has seen and heard the Lord's trumpet? This fanfare has never been heard on Earth before. This is a fanfare worthy of heralding the arrival of a risen King, as the sky splits open and you and the rest of mankind see the majesty of the Saviour.
But that's not all! Suddenly, the sky is filled with people that you know for a fact have died. How can this be? Your Grandma is rising to meet her Jesus! There's Grandpa not far behind! Your neighbor, your old pastor and the guy down the street, they are all ascending to the Heavens. As you look on in wonder, the sky is filled with saints long buried in their graves!
You are overwhelmed by this sight, by this reunion in the sky. You begin to sink to your knees. You knew this would happen because you believed and you read about it, and yet the fulfillment of it is still too amazing and awesome and powerful to have fully sunk in; Christ has returned for His people, just like He said He would.
But your knees never meet your perfectly manicured lawn, because at the very moment you fell in reverence to God, He gathered you to His side. You have been caught up with Christ, with the saints who died before and those who still remained alive at His return for His church.
The bridegroom has returned for His bride.
And all that's left is eternity.
None of the junk of this life matters anymore.
No more bone tired weariness.
No tears.
No longing.
No wishing to go home, because finally, finally, you are there. Your journey is complete.
All that's left now is the continual praise for a loving, faithful Father. All that's left now is the continual praise for God the Holy Spirit who is always with you, even at the darkest times of your life. All that's left now is the continual praise of God the Son, the sacrificial lamb who's atoning blood made this entire scenario possible for you.
All that's left now is eternity with the Lord and nothing else matters anymore.
Find comfort in this: He's coming back. Someday. Be ready and watchful. Because we don't know when it will be, but we rest on the promise that it will be, whether we go first when He opens our grave or second, while we are going about our daily routine. However it may happen for you, be assured, you won't miss the call. The shout from the Lord and the trumpet of God will be music to our longing ears.
What a reunion that will be.
1 Thessalonians 4:16-18:
18 For the Lord Himself shall descend from Heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel and with the trump of God and the dead in Christ shall arise first.
17 Then, we which are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air and so shall we ever be with the Lord.
18 Wherefore, comfort one another with these words.
Sunday, January 8, 2012
Beauty for Ashes
Last week was not a good week. We had a lot going on and circumstances seemed like they were closing in on me. I was really feeling oppressed, beaten down, boxed in, immobilized, useless. What seemed like a major decision needed to be made and I have yet to have any peace about which direction to go. Mike had surgery scheduled last week. I am beginning to worry about the longevity of my employment situation. I could list about ten other things too, but I think the point is made.
This is also not to say the entire week was a bust though, because it wasn't. It's January, but the temperatures felt like late October or March. We had a lot of beautiful, sunny days last week. I was able to spend time on two different days with friends and we laughed about dumb stuff. My sister came and sat at the hospital with me during Mike's surgery and we laughed about dumb stuff. Mom came over on Monday and we watched the Tournament of Roses Parade, ate dinner, played games and, yes, laughed about dumb stuff. I like to laugh at dumb stuff because I'm mature like that.
Moving along...
One night last week, I was talking to God after everyone had gone to bed. Honestly, what I was doing resembled whining a lot more than anything else. Literally, I said that I was feeling boxed in, as if everything was about to fly apart at the slightest hint of a breeze and couldn't the God of all creation look down here and give me a sign? Throw me a bone? Maybe write something on the wall of our dining room like He did that other time so long ago?
When you ask the God of the universe, the One who knows the names of all the stars, the God who spoke all things into existence, to throw you a bone, He doesn't just give you some piddly, little thing to boil for stock; He prepares a feast.
Matthew 14:15-19 And when even was come, the disciples came to him, saying, The place is desert, and the time is already past; send the multitudes away, that they may go into the villages, and buy themselves food.
16 But Jesus said unto them, They have no need to go away; give ye them to eat.
17 And they say unto him, We have here but five loaves, and two fishes.
18 And he said, Bring them hither to me.
19 And he commanded the multitudes to sit down on the grass; and he took the five loaves, and the two fishes, and looking up to heaven, he blessed, and brake and gave the loaves to the disciples, and the disciples to the multitudes.
20 And they all ate, and were filled: and they took up that which remained over of the broken pieces, twelve baskets full.
21 And they that did eat were about five thousand men, besides women and children.
Today, in the midst of all the junk, in the midst of my starvation, Richard turned a conversation into one about salvation. Kinda blindsided me with it actually. After answering some questions he had and asking a few of my own, he said he was ready to be baptized. Then he went off to tell Mike he was ready.
God was about to answer my prayers and the prayers of many friends and family, in a mighty, big way. Make no mistake, this was no bone He was throwing in my direction, our Heavenly Father had been working in the heart of our son and preparing it for His dwelling place. This work, this answer to prayer was much more important than the stuff I had been whining about. This work I had been praying about since before Richard was born. This work which He was about to do, was the most important thing of all.
Because if you don't have Christ, you don't have much even if you have it all. But when you have Christ, you have all you will ever need, even if you don't have anything.
While we were driving to church, I remembered a little boy at age three, clutching a bouquet of flowers (very beautiful weeds) he had picked (roots and all) and extending his chubby hand, said to me, "I picked these for you Mama. I love you!" I remembered the simple faith of a little boy of about five or six who diligently prayed for a bike one Christmas when I knew the only way he would get it was if God answered his prayers. (You can read about that here: http://tstomes.blogspot.com/2009/11/red-bike.html) I thought of the little boy trying to be brave in the face of circumstances beyond his understanding when he hadn't seen his Dad for months and couldn't understand why. I thought of the young man who derived great joy out of helping Grandma clear her sidewalk of snow or cutting her grass. And I thought of the young man who enjoyed working alongside Grandpa and the devastation he experienced when he died a few months ago. I thought of all of these years spent praying for him, worrying about him, praying for him, sometimes questioning God what I needed to be doing differently for this child and praying for him some more.
Pray without ceasing, press on towards the goal
in Reverance to God, He cares for your soul
Believe He will Answer the desires of your heart
Yearn to be closer, never to part
Expect Him to answer your prayers in His time
and Rest in Him always, He grants peace sublime.
(T. Deffely, 02/01/2010)
Maybe I should have paid a little better attention to the believing He will answer, expecting He will answer and resting in him advice.
Tonight, Mike paraphrased Isaiah when he said God gives us beauty for ashes.
Isa 61:1-3 The Spirit of the Lord Jehovah is upon me; because Jehovah hath anointed me to preach good tidings unto the meek; he hath sent me to bind up the broken-hearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to them that are bound;
2 to proclaim the year of Jehovah's favor, and the day of vengeance of our God; to comfort all that mourn;
3 to appoint unto them that mourn in Zion, to give unto them a garland for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; that they may be called trees of righteousness, the planting of Jehovah, that he may be glorified.
There's been a lot of ash in our lives. Richard has experienced a lot in his too. But tonight God made something beautiful out of it. Mike asked Richard if he believed that Jesus was the Christ, the Son of the Living God, and taking his affirmation, he baptized him into Christ.
It was miraculous to see.
A rebirth.
A new birth.
A soul coming home to his Father.
And I pictured my son giving the only thing He could to our loving, Heavenly Father, the only thing that He wants; his heart.
I look forward to helping Richard grow in the grace, truth and knowledge of the Lord. I look forward to helping him to understand that God is:
our loving Father
our Sovereign Lord
Jehovah Jireh
Jehovah Rophe
Wonderful Counselor
Mighty God
Friend
Alpha
Omega
Beginning
End
and the greatest one of all: The Great I Am.
Not
I was,
or
I'm going to be.
But present tense for all the time that has come before this and all the time there is yet to be including right now,
I Am.
Because He is.
God is.
Right now, right where we are in the midst of our mountaintop highs, the depths of our despair, the middle of our muck and He takes it all and exchanges:
beauty for ashes
oil of joy for mourning
a garment of praise for our spirit of heaviness
I look forward to seeing what God has in store for Richard and I am humbly grateful for the faithfulness of our Heavenly Father.
I wrote this after my own baptism and now I dedicate it to Richard on the day of his.
"Can You Hear?"
Can you hear the angels singing?
It's a song of victory!
For a precious child of God
has been baptized
into the land of the free!
Can you hear the bells?
They're ringing out
a message of the King
For a precious child of God
has come home
eternally to sing.
Can you see the holy face of God?
Do you see His nail scarred hands?
The place where the sword has pierced His side?
The place where His cross still stands?
Can you see the thorns upon His brow?
The cruel crisscrossed scars upon His back?
My guilt
My shame
It's written there
Lovingly nailed to the cross
that He would bear.
Can you see He went there willingly?
And died for you and for me?
Now He reigns in Heaven above
and showers us with His grace and love!
Can you hear the bells?
They're ringing out His song of Victory!
And the angels?
They are rejoicing,
praising the One
who died for me!
T. Bent
November 17, 2004
This is also not to say the entire week was a bust though, because it wasn't. It's January, but the temperatures felt like late October or March. We had a lot of beautiful, sunny days last week. I was able to spend time on two different days with friends and we laughed about dumb stuff. My sister came and sat at the hospital with me during Mike's surgery and we laughed about dumb stuff. Mom came over on Monday and we watched the Tournament of Roses Parade, ate dinner, played games and, yes, laughed about dumb stuff. I like to laugh at dumb stuff because I'm mature like that.
Moving along...
One night last week, I was talking to God after everyone had gone to bed. Honestly, what I was doing resembled whining a lot more than anything else. Literally, I said that I was feeling boxed in, as if everything was about to fly apart at the slightest hint of a breeze and couldn't the God of all creation look down here and give me a sign? Throw me a bone? Maybe write something on the wall of our dining room like He did that other time so long ago?
When you ask the God of the universe, the One who knows the names of all the stars, the God who spoke all things into existence, to throw you a bone, He doesn't just give you some piddly, little thing to boil for stock; He prepares a feast.
Matthew 14:15-19 And when even was come, the disciples came to him, saying, The place is desert, and the time is already past; send the multitudes away, that they may go into the villages, and buy themselves food.
16 But Jesus said unto them, They have no need to go away; give ye them to eat.
17 And they say unto him, We have here but five loaves, and two fishes.
18 And he said, Bring them hither to me.
19 And he commanded the multitudes to sit down on the grass; and he took the five loaves, and the two fishes, and looking up to heaven, he blessed, and brake and gave the loaves to the disciples, and the disciples to the multitudes.
20 And they all ate, and were filled: and they took up that which remained over of the broken pieces, twelve baskets full.
21 And they that did eat were about five thousand men, besides women and children.
Today, in the midst of all the junk, in the midst of my starvation, Richard turned a conversation into one about salvation. Kinda blindsided me with it actually. After answering some questions he had and asking a few of my own, he said he was ready to be baptized. Then he went off to tell Mike he was ready.
God was about to answer my prayers and the prayers of many friends and family, in a mighty, big way. Make no mistake, this was no bone He was throwing in my direction, our Heavenly Father had been working in the heart of our son and preparing it for His dwelling place. This work, this answer to prayer was much more important than the stuff I had been whining about. This work I had been praying about since before Richard was born. This work which He was about to do, was the most important thing of all.
Because if you don't have Christ, you don't have much even if you have it all. But when you have Christ, you have all you will ever need, even if you don't have anything.
While we were driving to church, I remembered a little boy at age three, clutching a bouquet of flowers (very beautiful weeds) he had picked (roots and all) and extending his chubby hand, said to me, "I picked these for you Mama. I love you!" I remembered the simple faith of a little boy of about five or six who diligently prayed for a bike one Christmas when I knew the only way he would get it was if God answered his prayers. (You can read about that here: http://tstomes.blogspot.com/2009/11/red-bike.html) I thought of the little boy trying to be brave in the face of circumstances beyond his understanding when he hadn't seen his Dad for months and couldn't understand why. I thought of the young man who derived great joy out of helping Grandma clear her sidewalk of snow or cutting her grass. And I thought of the young man who enjoyed working alongside Grandpa and the devastation he experienced when he died a few months ago. I thought of all of these years spent praying for him, worrying about him, praying for him, sometimes questioning God what I needed to be doing differently for this child and praying for him some more.
Pray without ceasing, press on towards the goal
in Reverance to God, He cares for your soul
Believe He will Answer the desires of your heart
Yearn to be closer, never to part
Expect Him to answer your prayers in His time
and Rest in Him always, He grants peace sublime.
(T. Deffely, 02/01/2010)
Maybe I should have paid a little better attention to the believing He will answer, expecting He will answer and resting in him advice.
Tonight, Mike paraphrased Isaiah when he said God gives us beauty for ashes.
Isa 61:1-3 The Spirit of the Lord Jehovah is upon me; because Jehovah hath anointed me to preach good tidings unto the meek; he hath sent me to bind up the broken-hearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to them that are bound;
2 to proclaim the year of Jehovah's favor, and the day of vengeance of our God; to comfort all that mourn;
3 to appoint unto them that mourn in Zion, to give unto them a garland for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; that they may be called trees of righteousness, the planting of Jehovah, that he may be glorified.
There's been a lot of ash in our lives. Richard has experienced a lot in his too. But tonight God made something beautiful out of it. Mike asked Richard if he believed that Jesus was the Christ, the Son of the Living God, and taking his affirmation, he baptized him into Christ.
It was miraculous to see.
A rebirth.
A new birth.
A soul coming home to his Father.
And I pictured my son giving the only thing He could to our loving, Heavenly Father, the only thing that He wants; his heart.
I look forward to helping Richard grow in the grace, truth and knowledge of the Lord. I look forward to helping him to understand that God is:
our loving Father
our Sovereign Lord
Jehovah Jireh
Jehovah Rophe
Wonderful Counselor
Mighty God
Friend
Alpha
Omega
Beginning
End
and the greatest one of all: The Great I Am.
Not
I was,
or
I'm going to be.
But present tense for all the time that has come before this and all the time there is yet to be including right now,
I Am.
Because He is.
God is.
Right now, right where we are in the midst of our mountaintop highs, the depths of our despair, the middle of our muck and He takes it all and exchanges:
beauty for ashes
oil of joy for mourning
a garment of praise for our spirit of heaviness
I look forward to seeing what God has in store for Richard and I am humbly grateful for the faithfulness of our Heavenly Father.
I wrote this after my own baptism and now I dedicate it to Richard on the day of his.
"Can You Hear?"
Can you hear the angels singing?
It's a song of victory!
For a precious child of God
has been baptized
into the land of the free!
Can you hear the bells?
They're ringing out
a message of the King
For a precious child of God
has come home
eternally to sing.
Can you see the holy face of God?
Do you see His nail scarred hands?
The place where the sword has pierced His side?
The place where His cross still stands?
Can you see the thorns upon His brow?
The cruel crisscrossed scars upon His back?
My guilt
My shame
It's written there
Lovingly nailed to the cross
that He would bear.
Can you see He went there willingly?
And died for you and for me?
Now He reigns in Heaven above
and showers us with His grace and love!
Can you hear the bells?
They're ringing out His song of Victory!
And the angels?
They are rejoicing,
praising the One
who died for me!
T. Bent
November 17, 2004
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