Christmas comes to Nana-ville...

Christmas has come and gone once again...just like many other Christmases before it...but this Christmas will hold a special place in my memory bank. Rather early in the Advent Season, my heart became impressed with a desire to give more. Not to give more stuff, but to re-define the whole concept of giving in my mind.

Christmas frugality has never been a strong suit of mine. I come by it naturally; my momma was a great one for providing great heaps of gifts under our tree when I was but a pup. For much of my youngest childhood, my father was pastoring small churches...so I know my mother must have put them in horrible debt in December. Now, don't get me wrong...I have wonderful memories of those Christmases on the living room floor, surrounded by the mounds of Yuletide joy, and I am truly grateful for it. However, as an adult I found myself in the same holiday "bondage" with my own young children. And somehow much of the joy had gone out of Christmas for me in the meantime. Enough about that...you get the idea.

This Christmas, though, was different. Through messages given at church and other avenues, I believe Christ began to help me see the Christmas season through His eyes. I began to see the needs and poverty in the world around me in a new light. And I began to get a bit more creative with my giving patterns. I challenged myself to find ways to be more frugal in my gifts for my family in order to free up more financial resources to contribute to areas of need.

Some things I discovered helpful this year -

• I began knitting and baking furiously - more handmade gifts
  
• I took an ornament off of the Giving Tree at our church, and found a huge amount of joy in purchasing clothes and girly stuff for a little 6-year-old girl in our community
  
• I purchased bracelets made with beads from Thailand for all five of our girls and girls-in-law; all of the profits from the sales went to support an organization that is helping to address the problems of the childhood sex trade industry in Thailand.

I wasn't perfect this year, and I'm sure I can challenge myself to spend even less next year. But I do know one thing for sure. Christmas joy came to my heart in a whole new way; the joy of giving...not just giving gifts, but truly giving. Not just to family and friends, but to just a few of the multitudes of aching hearts that surround us all year.

And God saw it, and it was very good...

Thankful...

Today we had an awesome church service. Due to the size of our congregation, we normally have three church services on Sunday morning. This morning, however, was different. We had one big combined service in the auditorium of our local university.

Much of the service was devoted to instilling in us a true sense of thankfulness, and great care was taken to design the service to facilitate that in many ways. The music and sermon were inspiring, and opportunity was even given for attendees to be involved individually, if they chose, in artwork, thank-you cards and verbal expressions of thanks to others, among other things.

While all of that truly was thrilling for me to experience, I must say that what may have been the highlight of the entire service for me likely went unnoticed by others.

At some point early in the service, one of our pastors invited the congregation to take a few minutes to use their imaginations (what a concept). We were to close our eyes and imagine ourselves meeting with Christ at a local coffee/book shop and sharing a time of conversation with Him over a warm beverage. We were asked to imagine ourselves asking Christ, "Lord, what are you thankful for?" and then to imagine what His answer might be.

Literally almost before the pastor got the question out of his mouth, the answer came crashing into my mind's eye. It came with such clarity that it was almost as if my conscious self wasn't as aware of it as was my spirit. It brought tears to my eyes, which doesn't happen often these days. It was a very clear, very simple answer.

"Lord, what are you thankful for?" I asked, my eyes searching His. He looked deeply into me and without hesitation He responded with His one-word answer.

His answer?

"You."

Hospitality

Church was good last Sunday. I mean, it was one of those times when I had a personal little "a-ha" moment.

The topic was hospitality. Not my best trait. The word "hospitality" brings to mind visions of a table with freshly cut flowers on it, little china plates, a hostess in a crisp, floral apron, sporting a face that has fresh make-up on it (not too much and not too little...) and every hair in place; a real live Martha Stewart, if you will. Perhaps one of the most vivid images is that of the aforementioned hostess with a lipsticked smile and eyes so warm with personality that it would make the Sahara seem like the North Pole in comparison. And don't worry about what time of day you show up on her doorstep; it could be 3:00 am and she'd have a fresh batch of poppy seed muffins coming out of the oven, coincidentally at the very moment you arrived. You don't need to call ahead. Her house is already neat as a pin (no, really...and CLEAN, too)...

No...I'm sure of it...hospitality just isn't my gift. I don't have to think very long at all, and I can dredge up memories of panic-stricken moments upon realizing my in-laws were on their way over...and my desperate attempts to make my humble abode presentable enough for entertaining company. I'm sure if you asked my daughters they would tell you how much fun those 2-minute "taking the house by storm" cleanings were with their mother suddenly losing touch with reality...and how damaged they are as a result of it...

Ok...so anyway...we were talking about the "H" word on Sunday. And BAM...all of a sudden, he started to change my thinking patterns. Just WHO does he think he is, that pastor of mine, thinking he can just walk in and change a lifetime of thought patterns in 30 minutes???

I guess I may have mis-labeled "hospitality" all these years. My definition of hospitality, as described above, is actually entertaining, not hospitality at all. Yes...entertaining...that's more like Martha Stewart...and while there are people in this world who definitely have some sort of a gift for entertaining (bless them), everyone is expected to be hospitable, gift or no gift.

Well then, what is Christ inviting us to when he instructs us to practice hospitality??

After all the sermon-dust had settled, we came up with a pretty good definition of hospitality. Basically, hospitality is making room in my life for someone else. This could have all kinds of implications in my life, among which might be uncluttering my schedule enough to have room for others. This concept also makes it clear that "hospitality" is not simply entertaining. While it is true that hospitality could involve a nice dinner prepared to share, there are also many other ways I can think of to practice "hospitality" in my life. What are some ways I can be hospitable...or make room in my life for others? I could -

• intentionally sit by someone in church who I don't know or who may appear lonely
• actually stop on the sidewalk when I see someone I know...and sincerely inquire as to how their day is going
• take a hot meal to that family with a new baby
• listen when someone needs to talk...even if I had something else planned for that period of time

You get the idea...

Wow...that concept is truly transforming for me. You mean my house doesn't have to look perfect if I invite someone over for soup and biscuits?

The really cool thing here is that all of the above newly acquired knowledge wasn't even the best part. My mind was preparing to take me somewhere even better.

Sitting in my pew, I began to reflect on a little book that I've been familiar with for years, entitled, "My Heart, Christ's Home." In this little book, my heart is compared to an actual dwelling with many different rooms...and what Christ sees has he wanders in and out of each room. Suddenly it hit me...my heart, Christ's home - hospitality...

Yes, I have invited Christ into my "home" (my heart) to live...but how hospitable and welcoming am I? Do I always truly want Him there, or are there other things taking up the "space" of my life that keep Him out on the fringes?

I believe that hospitality, as it has been described above, is possible - both toward other people around me and toward Christ. And...the beautiful thing about this is that as I am more and more hospitable with Christ, allowing Him more and more "space" in my life, I believe I will naturally become more and more genuinely hospitable with people around me.

May it be so...

Taste and see...

"Taste and see that the Lord is good;

blessed is the man who takes refuge in Him!"

(Psalm 34:8)

Take me away...

She was grumpy. There was no getting around it.

On Sunday afternoon I went to visit my oldest daughter. After being there for a few minutes, it became increasingly evident that something was wrong. It was a warm day, and the little apartment where she lives with her husband and baby was hot. The fans were blowing, with little relief. On top of that, the prior week had been an exceptionally draining week for her, with many unusual activities and interactions that managed to sap her emotions. She was tired...she was hot...and yes, she was just a tad grumpy.

Suddenly it came to me. Before I knew it, I found myself announcing to her husband that we were leaving for a bit (leaving him to watch the baby). It was a rather bold move on my part, but while I felt a bit guilty for leaving him to fend for himself I knew it had to be done. Her husband, as always, was wonderful and graciously accepted his role in this venture.

Thus we found ourselves wandering the aisles of nearby air-conditioned department stores with no particular goal in mind. We even made our way to the pet store in the mall - one of our favorite things to do - and spent considerable time acting like idiots in front of the glass windows that separated us from the puppies, kittens, gerbils, lizards, etc etc etc...(by the way, who in their right mind would PAY $115 for a kitten when millions of people are giving them away???). We found a rack in Old Navy on which hung adorable outfits in my granddaughter's size for only $1.98. HOW FUN IS THAT?????

So on it went, finding bargains, slurping Icees at Target, and simply enjoying each other's company. Before we knew it, we had been gone for almost 3 hours.

Back we trekked to the apartment, and found much joy in unpacking all our treasures to share with Daddy and Baby. But it wasn't until we had been back for a few minutes that I realized the magnitude of what had happened. My daughter was a different person. She was relaxed, happy, and ready to face another week of stay-at-home-mommying. What had happened? She was rescued. She was taken away for a time of refreshing and renewal, a time when she didn't have to think about responsibilities, wet diapers, or a stuffy apartment. Her spirit was re-energized. And her momma was filled with joy at what had happened.

Isn't this what Christ longs to do for us? I imagine He spends a lot of time waiting. Waiting for us to slow down. Waiting for us to allow Him to "take us away" to a place that will truly refresh our spirits. As I have reflected on this miracle with my daughter, this is where my thoughts have gone.

I have a Heavenly Father who loves me infinitely more than I can imagine. He knows my fatigue, my agonizing thoughts, my work schedule, my worries. And He wants to make it better. He wants to visit me in moments of quiet, to speak soothing words to my harried spirit and help me re-focus my heart. I want to be responsive to His voice calling to "take me away."

"The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not be in want.

He makes me lie down in green pastures,

He leads me beside quiet waters,

He restores my soul."

(Psalm 23:1-3 NIV)

Micah

As a friend of mine states weekly in his blog, "It is Sunday, and the faithful have gathered to worship."

At our church we've been discussing the book of Micah over the past few weeks, culminating in a dramatic portrayal of the entire book taking the place of the sermon today. Old testament scholar I'm not...actually, I'm not much of a scholarly type person, period. So...a lot of stuff goes flying over my head and through my head via my quite spacious ear canals.

However, I've caught enough to know that in the book of Micah this prophet is trying to get through to some people that God is NOT very well pleased with them. Actually, Micah is fairly accomplished at getting his point across. And...God uses some pretty strong language too...things like, "In raging anger, I'll make a clean sweep of godless nations who haven't listened," and "I have some plans of my own: Disaster because of this interbreeding evil! Your necks are on the line. You're not walking away from this. It's doomsday for you."

Oh my... (picture me, standing in the worshp service, suddenly grabbing at my throat and circling to the floor in a heap of despair).

As I am continuing on my journey of truly discovering who God is and finally realizing that part of this Truth is the truth of mercy and grace (which has been a relatively new concept in my life), the "Micah" images of God are a bit disturbing, to say the least.

But all is not lost. There is more to this complex God than just these images. And...as Pastor Gregg reminded us this morning, God is much bigger than we are able to assimilate. He is more complex than our human minds can comprehend. So...we continue our journey through Micah, and we find that God indeed is gracious and loving and willing to restore these wayward people as they turn back to Him.

As I grapple with these disturbing images, I must grasp tightly to the things I do know...

• God loves me...more than I could ever possibly imagine
• God hates sin.
• God made a way for me to be completely "clean" before him when I accept the fact that He took the punishment for my sins and by trusting my life to Him and seeking to follow Him.
• God doesn't like it when we ignore those who are needy and oppressed.
• As I trust in God, I will exhibit the qualities of kindness, compassion, justice, and humility, as He breathes His life through me.

What does the Lord require of me? 1) to act justly; 2) to love mercy; and 3) to walk humbly with my God. (Micah 6:8).

Oh God, may this be true in my life. May I turn my face always to you and your truth, becoming more and more like you and less and less like the world. I want to be more willing to give up pieces of the world that take the place of you in my life. You are a just God...and you are a merciful God. Thank you for being my loving Father....even when I am a rambunctious child.

By the way, at the end of our service today there was a time of prayer in which Gregg encouraged us to speak out loud the God-characteristics we are thankful for. Many people spoke..."grace"..."mercy"..."love"..."forgiveness"...but then at the end, my dear sister Julie's voice rang out from the back of the sanctuary..."IN CHRIST THERE IS NO CONDEMNATION." Thank you, Julie.

New life...

At the risk of boring any of you, I must revisit a topic that continues to pique my interest these days. I seem to continually be drawn to those things that remind me of new life, of surviving the odds, of resurrection, if you will. Perhaps it is because that topic is so fresh in my memory in my own history. But for whatever reason, I am both fascinated and emotionalized (I just created that new word just for this occasion) at the same time.

Last Saturday was our wedding anniversary. Yes, it's been 2 years. To celebrate this milestone in our lives, Eric and I decided to take a little day trip. Neither of us had ever visited the visitor centers approaching Mount St. Helens in Washington; we both wish we had taken advantage of seeing this wonder closer to the time of its historic eruption in 1980. But we were kids then (ok, maybe we were young adults)...and we just didn't make the effort back then.

The day was beautiful. Disappointingly, the clouds hovered over the top of the mountain all day, literally clouding the view of the top of the cone. However, the flip-side good news was that the overcast day created a spectacle of color and beauty in God's creation. The greens were really green; the flowers were intense in their hues...
















...and it was so wonderful to just wander and drive and take pics. Of course, the most meaningful moments for me were any of the encounters with wildlife...















As you get closer to the mountain, though, you eventually pass into the "blast zone." This is the area that was most affected by this horrific act of nature.

This brings me to the crux of my story...

The destruction and horror surrounding the events of May 18, 1980, are almost unspeakable. Many lives were lost, and the landscape surrounding the mountain was obliterated. Even today, you can see the deep gouges and cracks in the earth resulting from the flow from the mountain's crater.
















In the midst of all the death and loss, one might think that replanting might have been an immediate goal...let's get that forest back to the way it was, as soon as we can...but it was interesting to me that the US Forest Service has chosen to let nature take its course in much of the area; to watch how the landscape recovers from this ordeal.

Some plants with strong, hardy root systems were able to push up through the ground again. Those animals and fish that live underground or underwater were likewise survivors. They all experienced the trauma, but somehow new life came to be.

Along the road, on our way up to the mountain, my eye was caught by a tree. New life again flashed across my mind-journal...
















Saturday was a day of quiet reflectiveness for me. And as I witnessed the renewal and new growth around me, I was again aware of the firestorm in my life a few years back. I was there, in the midst of it...and in many ways I experienced near-death. But God offers newness, survival, resurrection, mercy, growth, healing...new life...

Perhaps a display at one of the visitor's centers said it best...

It's genetics...

Like Gramma like granddaughter...sigh...

A different sort of Mother's Day...

It's going to be a bit different this year. There is something new. My oldest "baby" is a momma this year, and it gives a whole new element of meaning to Mother's Day. What joy it brings to watch her grow into her new role in life, to observe her deep love for her daughter, to simply enjoy the fact that she is a mom. And as a mom myself, it has brought such amazing joy to be in new roles. Initially there was the overwhelmingly wonderful (and traumatic) experience of having a part in helping Abbie bring this new little life into the world. Living that moment with her is something that will always be treasured in the deepest parts of my heart. And now...now to be privileged to occasionally get to play the role of "mentor mom" as I help Abbie figure out this new and challenging responsibility. And, of course, it goes without saying that I also get the icing on the cake...that of being the gramma. Who would have thought that this much love would have been left to give after I "gave it all" to my girls. Ah yes...it just keeps getting better, this "mom" thing...

Today I bought a small potted flowering plant. It was only 99 cents, but pretty adorable. Earlier this evening I tended to my little magenta treasure, adding water and pulling some sparkling foil up around the pot. Some white organza ribbon tied in a bow completed my little arrangement. I picked up the little beauty, and Eric and I took a walk. Our destination was a nearby cemetery. There, under the spreading Spring branches of a big tree, was my momma. I brushed the stray fir needles off the stone, and carefully placed the gift into the little plant reservoir. I stood back and admired the sight for a minute, then we turned and began the trek back home, hand-in-hand. Before we got out of sight, however, I had to turn for one last look. The foil sparkled in the sunlight. I knew Mom would love it.

Happy Mother's Day, Mom...I miss you...and I love you.

A weekend of good-byes...

What a weekend.

Most of this two-day "rest" from work has been spent moving my last little "chick" from my nest into her very own first apartment. Her little place is charming; it is a little 1-bedroom in what is touted to be the oldest apartment building in our little town (but recently completely renovated, much to this momma's approval). Amid all the work of loading and unloading, it has been so fun to watch her joy as she has been settling in. I think I see a new level of maturity that comes with responsible "ownership." And...I feel secure. Her building is very safe, with many security features in place. So...sigh...I suppose I must release my grip - once again - and trust that Christ has her life well in hand.

I must admit, I have a whole new appreciation for all the thousands of times my papa has helped me and my family move from one place to another (in case I haven't said it enough, Dad, thank you). Of course, along with that appreciation comes the harsh reality that this likely won't be the last time I will help one of my kids move. I signed on for the full deal when I had children. So...we'll just keep the Icy Hot linament close by...

Now I have said goodbye to my baby, at least from under my roof. Then...just a little bit ago, I got the phone call I had been expecting for a couple of weeks. My sister in Christ, Audrey, finally went to see Jesus in person earlier this evening. I have tried to assimilate that into my thinking, but it just won't quite fall into place. I do know that Audrey is overjoyed and that she is experiencing a kind of love now that would never be possible here in this world. But...it does leave the rest of us behind, awaiting our turn to join her there.

I'm so glad I saw Audrey recently. I'm so glad I told her the things I did. I'm so glad she was (is) my friend and sister...

Goodbye, Audrey, for now...I know you are in good hands.

Goodbye, Bethie...I know you are in the very best of hands too...

Audrey

My friend Audrey is very sick. She found out 6 years ago that she has bone cancer. Since then there have been ups and downs, medically speaking. There has been fear, pain, and all the other emotions that go along with cancer...but all along the way Audrey continued to cultivate her relationship with Jesus. Even within the last couple of years, she has faithfully followed God's nudges on her life, sharing her spiritual insight and wisdom with young couples in a Bible study group she started to minister to that age group.

For many years prior to her diagnosis, Audrey was the Director of Food Services at the Christian conference center where I worked. Her office was right down the hall from mine, and we experienced many deep moments there, sharing together about many things. We talked about work, home, Christ, and many of our individual life happenings. She was there for me when I was in the darkest valley of my life. She always loved me...and she always prayed about what mattered to me, covering the situation in a warm blanket of Christ's safety. Eventually, we talked about her illness together. She was very brave...and she trusted God - deeply.

I have moved away from that area of the state, and I'm not in contact with Audrey as much as I used to be. Occasional emails keep us connected in the physical world, but at a deeper level we always have the connection of our shared experiences.

I recently learned that Audrey's cancer has apparently reached the end stage. Her mother and sisters have arrived from another state to walk this final journey with her. A week ago, I drove to her home at the coast to visit with her; to say goodbye to my sister in Christ. It's not often in this life that we have the opportunity to look a friend in the eyes and tell her/him goodbye through your words of love and appreciation. I told Audrey that my life was better because I knew her. I told Audrey that her prayers contributed to my daughter's safe return from a very destructive path in high school. I told her that my daughters love her. I hugged her, kissed her cheek, and told her I loved her. In spite of her painful condition with bone cancer, she stood up to hug me.

This will no doubt be at the top of my list of beautiful blossoms along my life journey. Audrey loves Jesus...and He is waiting for her to join Him where He is...He wants to show her what He has prepared for her. And, as I told Audrey, I'm sure she will hear Him tenderly say to her, "Well done, child...well done."

Yet another of life's profundities...

It was ugly, and I simply had to do something about it. There it sat on my kitchen window sill, completely out of control and out of nature's plan for its intended beauty.

This little coleus plant started out pretty enough, and should have been a bright addition to my backyard view from my kitchen. I had placed it in an old, funky frog planter of my mom's - one with no drain holes and very little space for soil - but cute. My little plant buddy grew and grew...but something began to go horribly wrong. It eventually was growing up by leaps and bounds. It began going its own way, ignoring all the rules of plant-dom. So now here it was, this long, spindly, leafless growth with withered leaves at the very top. Sigh...

I took it down off the window sill to make room for another plant, and it was then that I made the decision to do the dastardly deed. It was a horrible thought, but somebody had to do it. With great determination, and with what appeared to be no compassion at all, I did it. I pinched it off, right down almost to the top of the soil. It was at that point that I noticed them.

There they were...spreading out from the point of the amputation...a little cluster of green, healthy leaves...new growth. In that moment, my spirit was rocked with the truth I had just witnessed. Doesn't this take me back to the "vine" analogy I had been considering a few posts ago? Of course...yes...as we release ourselves to Christ's care, as we are growing in the "vine," there are times when Christ can see things that are blocking our progress. At those times, what could appear to be a severe "lopping off" occurs, ridding us of the ugly nuisance. But wait...what is that we see...is that new growth?

Easter people...

I liked today's sermon at church. We are "Easter people living in a Good Friday world." The entire sermon can be heard by checking out the church website - www.newbergfriendschurch.org.

Anyway, my mind seemed to center on one portion of the message. This is, indeed, a Good Friday world. While there is much joy and beauty to be had here it also is, without question, a place of frustration, doubt, pain, tragedy, loneliness, brokenness...the list could go on and on. Are we spared from the reality of this world simply because we believe in Christ and have become one of his children? Many leaders in the "evangelical" Christian world would want us to believe that. But no...we are in this world, and bad stuff happens...even to us. However, Christ has promised to walk with us through this journey here, and we have true hope in the eternal life of beauty and peace that he has prepared for us.

All that to say...sitting in my pew this morning, I couldn't help but compare the pastor's words to experiences in my life. Just a very few years ago I was in a place of complete desolation due to life circumstances. I was engulfed by grief, despair, confusion...and found myself in a downward spiral. I must confess that at that time I wasn't listening well for Christ's voice. I was completely shattered, and didn't have the heart to care much. The Good Friday world had come to roost in my spirit.

In the sermon, however, Gregg went on to describe Mary's grief as she had just lost her Lord to a horrific death on the cross. She too was consumed...perhaps in some ways similar to my situation. She stumbled to the tomb to grieve her loss...she even eventually saw Christ standing in front of her...but in the midst of her pain she couldn't recognize him. It wasn't until he spoke her name..."Mary"...that she finally saw him.

I find myself picturing Christ during my life situation described above. I can envision him sitting patiently nearby, lovingly and somewhat painfully watching me struggle, unable to get a word in edgewise. However, I can also imagine a time when my pain began to ebb - when I slowed my "flailing in the water" long enough to hear him speak my name - "Denise". He was there all the time.

Happy birthday, Grandma...

Today is the day. My grandma Gregory's birthday. And while she has been gone from this place for many years, for some reason her birthday has been on my mind over the past couple of days. I got in the car with Beth yesterday and announced that tomorrow (today) would be Grandma's birthday. "Happy birthday, Grandma," I spoke aloud, almost forcefully. Suddenly, without warning, my spirit choked. My grief surfaced with the knowledge of how I miss her.

Grandma was a pretty cool lady. I wish I had realized more of that while she was alive. From this point of view, on this day, I can look at her from the perspective of her entire life. And it's a pretty amazing tale...

There is a lot I don't know about Grandma's life. And while that fact bothers me, I must respect her right to keep parts of her story private. I do know that my momma was her only child. She had a pretty tumultuous young adulthood, but somewhere along the line she came to grips with the need to make a decision about Christ. She firmly (and forever) chose Christ.

Grandma endured unbelievable pain and trauma in her lifetime, yet she clung closely to Christ. I believe she found a security there that this earthly life couldn't provide. What a testimony.

There are so many other stories I could relate, but won't...

But...did I mention the time when I was in about 4th grade when I won tickets to a circus...and Grandma went with me?

Did I mention that she had a new groundbreaking surgery in 1962 to repair a hole in her heart, thus resulting in being written up in medical journals?

Did I mention that she was amazingly gifted at playing the piano, and that she was my first piano teacher?

Likely the most poignent story I could share, however, would be my opportunity to sit by her side when she went to meet Jesus. For anyone who has never witnessed this "transferrence" in a Christian's life, I must tell you that it is completely awe-inspiring. I could see her spirit respond as I sat singing old hymns she loved so much. And...perhaps most importantly...I watched her eyes connect with Jesus before her body finally gave up its fight. What an honor to be there.

In case I didn't say it enough, Grandma, I love you. Thank you for all you contributed to my life. Thank you for loving me and for providing for my momma. And perhaps most importantly, thank you for showing us a picture of what commitment to Christ looks like. You are at peace now...perhaps enjoying the company of my mom. I do miss you.

It's not like it used to be...

This afternoon I went to pick up Beth from work at the University. As I was meandering down the neighborhood streets surrounding the U, I noticed a student sitting out on his front porch studying. He had dragged a recliner chair out there, and appeared to be enjoying his afternoon study session in the fresh air. I had to chuckle to myself, remembering those days of long ago when I too was a student at that very same institution of higher learning (I use the term loosely, as I was far from studious in those days; but I did achieve a pretty remarkable social education).

Interestingly, as I considered this young man's freedom to randomly move his furniture to the porch to study, I suddenly had a sweeping sense of nostalgic sadness. I remember my freedom back then; the freedom to be completely random in my approach to life, the freedom to step completely outside the "box" of acceptable life behavior. As a matter of fact, I seem to remember exercising that freedom rather regularly. Hmmm...stay out all night with a friend and crawl back into the dorm through the laundry room window at 5:00 am...play all day and then attempt to study all night...the list could go on and on, if my 50+ brain wasn't failing me at this moment. I never did anything particularly horrible; it all would likely be considered normal activities of a college-age human. But I do remember the sense of freedom; the sense that I could do off-the-wall things without society's repercussions. Why has that changed? Why don't I feel that freedom any longer? Why does being a "grown-up" prevent me from continuing in my individuality?

I suspect that if I went outside right now, dragging my recliner chair behind me, and proceeded to "sit a spell" on the lawn with a good book, I would possibly be considered odd (at best) by my neighbors. Yet just blocks from here, some young man is likely getting high-fives for his ingenuity. Where's the equity in that?

I must consider this issue further. Possibly I may have to re-implement some past behaviors into my day-to-day life just to show the world that I've still got it in me...and that they are not the boss of me!

Consider yourself warned.

Rejoicing

OK, before anyone gets overly excited here, let me just give a bit of a disclaimer. This is for any of you who pay any attention at all to the fine print at the end of this post that proclaims the time of day. So...yes, I know it is very late (early?), and I should be in bed. Actually, I slept for a bit in my chair. This is a day when Eric gets up at 1:00 am to be to work by 2:00. So...what's the point of going to bed and disturbing his sleep, just to have him wake up at 1:00 and disturb MY sleep? It just seems easier to wait it out until he leaves. Hmmm...and now that he's gone, I'm still awake. Sigh. But on to my post...

Last night the phone rang. Beth answered the call. Turns out it was her sister, Abbie, on the phone. From a distance down the hall, all I could hear was the genuine sounds of true excitement. "No...you're kidding...WHEN???" Then finally, "you wanna talk to Mom?"

I took the phone in anticipation of what was sure to be a life-changing moment. "Mom? Guess what just happened??? She STOOD UP!!! Yes...all by herself! She pulled herself up and just STOOD there! All by herself!!"

My daughter was, of course, referring to my precious grandbaby, Olivia. Now, realizing that this is my granddaughter we're talking about, I am forcing myself to take an objective view here. But I am sure that there has NEVER been a 9-month-old child in the history of history who has EVER stood up by her/his self. I'm telling you, this child is brilliant. And...as soon as I have more current pics to share, I will have visual proof of this statement.

I was sitting here tonight thinking about that moment; reflecting on the sheer joy of our exuberance over the accomplishment of "our" baby. I'm remembering that the Bible talks about the rejoicing that happens in Heaven when someone decides to believe in and follow Christ. Yes...they rejoice. Sheesh...it's not like nobody else in creation has ever made that decision...but apparently it's a VERY big deal each time, over and over throughout history. Wow.

Then, carrying the thought a bit further, I am thinking about the spiritual steps I have taken, especially in the last few years. Small, stumbling steps at times, yet steps closer to Christ. Is it possible that He rejoices over each one of these faltering steps in much the same way we mere humans rejoice over our childrens' steps? What a concept!

I am reminded of another verse in the Bible:

"The Lord your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing." (Zephaniah 3:15)

Pure grace...

I've been tagged!

My friend, Sherry, has "tagged" me. I am, therefore, "it," and must complete the following:

Four jobs I've had...
1) Radio station receptionist / announcer.
2) Kindergarten teacher.
3) Custodian
4) Insurance biller for a doctor's office

Four movies I could watch over and over...
1) Young Frankenstein
2) The Sword in the Stone
3) The Pianist
4) Movies from the '50s or before

Four books I've read over and over...
(editorial note: I enjoy reading, but never seem to get books read...so this is my list of "liked" reads)
1) The Hidden Staircase (Nancy Drew)
2) Max Lucado books
3) Little Girl With Seven Names
4) The Kissing Hand
(did I mention I collect children's books?)

Four places I've lived...
1) Holtville, California
2) Spring Valley, California
3) Tillamook, Oregon
4) Newberg, Oregon

Four places I've vacationed...
1) Disneyland
2) Victoria/Vancouver BC
3) Richmond, Indiana
4) London, England (OK, so it was a college choir tour...)

Four TV shows I love...
1) Law and Order
2) Law and Order SVU
3) Law and Order Criminal Intent (are you seeing a pattern here?)
4) Trauma: Life In the ER

Four favorite dishes...
1) Tacos
2) Spaghetti Factory spaghetti with Mizithra cheese
3) "Icee" drinks
4) Homemade raspberry or strawberry jam

Four websites I visit (daily) often...
1) Blogspot.com
2) Ebay
3) Alibris (books)
4) my bank's website :)

Four places I'd rather be right now...
1) Camping with Eric
2) Southern California, to places I lived as a child
3) In a bigger house (but knowing I am blessed to have a house at all)...
4) Rocking my granddaughter to sleep.

Four things that make me warmly happy...
1) Rocking my granddaughter to sleep (is there an echo in here?)
2) Sitting by a campfire, smelling the smoke and listening to a river gurgling by.
3) Knowing that God is at work in me...
4) My family

Now...who gets tagged next? Here's the list - YOU'RE IT!
1) Kathy Watson (life101.blogspot.com)
2) Abbie Budd
3) Beth Rickey

Insignificance?

Here it is, Sunday afternoon, and here I am reflecting in front of the computer. The casserole is in the oven, and all is well on the home front. I might mention that the "wellness" of our home front was in great question yesterday morning when I found myself taking my precious husband, Eric, to the hospital.

Before going into detail, it is important to note that Eric is a man who, historically, does NOT obtain medical services willingly. I have nagged, begged, even stooped to snivvling to try to get him to get a physical...to no avail. One time I did manage to get him to check his blood pressure at one of those little pharmacy gizmos, but that's the extent of my success. Of course, remembering that we've been married not even two years yet I suppose that's not all bad.

Eric does remember a time, about 13-15 years ago, when he saw a doctor because of pneumonia. But since then, there's been a huge medical dry spell in his life.

Now...knowing that background information makes it even more meaningful when you consider that he actually asked me to transport him to the hospital yesterday.

The day started out just like most other Saturday mornings. He's an up-and-at-'em kind of guy, the first one up and showered ("daylight's burnin'" is a favorite quip of his)...and that morning was not out of the ordinary. He had showered and dressed and gone to the kitchen to fix breakfast. Bacon was on the griddle, and I'm sure his imagination was teasing him with thoughts of all he was going to accomplish in the garden that day.

Before I could even get in the shower (I had lazily been spending a bunch of time trimming my hair in front of the bathroom mirror), I thought I heard something a bit out of the ordinary, almost like a groan, coming from the other room - and to my amazement, this was followed by Eric's voice, calling me to come help him. Quite unlike him.

Out of the blue, without any warning, Eric had been stricken with pain of incredible intensity in his side. He had all the signs of something being very wrong; he was almost ready to pass out and was profusely perspiring. I immediately wanted to call an ambulance, but...in true Eric fashion, he said I should just drive him over there. It's a good thing we don't live very far away from the hospital...

Long story short (because I really do have a point to make here), after blood tests, a cat scan, and enough narcotics to drop a small army, we had the confirmation from the radiologist that he indeed was the proud "father" of a bouncing itty-bitty kidney stone. Thankfully, the scan also showed that the stone was almost to pass into the bladder, which would mean the end of the pain. After spending the better part of the day in the ER, we were sent home with more pain medication to ride it out, and with instructions to watch for this little culprit to appear in the outside world (with the intention of delivering it to the doctor's office for analysis). I am pleased to report that the remainder of the day was fairly unremarkable; Eric suffered only a couple more severe episodes.

Today all the pain was gone, and as predicted, we were finally able to actually view the "stone." Now, my idea of a stone is something you have in your driveway or maybe something you skip across the top of your favorite river. You can imagine our surprise as we studied this "thing" that turned out to be not much larger than the period at the end of this sentence. Why they refer to that as a "stone" I'll never know...but our minds couldn't help but wonder how anything that miniscule could cause that much pain.

As I consider this little episode in our lives, I can't help but realize the obvious spiritual parallel here. "How can anything that miniscule cause that much pain?" tumbles around in my mind, reminding me of a truth that our pastor talked about in church today. He was discussing a passage from John 15, where Jesus is talking about the necessity of abiding in the Vine and that He may do some divine "pruning" in our lives to get rid of characteristics or things that are not good for us or will prevent us from being fruitful. We considered ways to begin to separate ourselves from those things that tend to take obsessive priority (TV, food, money, etc), those things that would keep us from being focused more on Christ. How can we spend less time doing those things, even perhaps ministry, that keep us too drained to learn to know Christ better?

I believe that as we begin to explore that question in our lives, it is good to remember that there are those things that will sneak in on us almost imperceptibly. Things so "miniscule" that they may go unnoticed, yet if left to grow could cause immeasurable damage and pain.

Jesus, please help me to recognize those things in my life before they take over. And help me to begin to release, moment by moment, those things that cloud my vision of You in my life.

P.S. - HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DANI!

Today is the birthday of someone very precious to me; my niece, Danielle. She is nearing the end of her twenties, yet my memories take me back to her childhood, to her "helping" me make cookies, and so many other precious memories. She has grown into a woman of great beauty, strength, and integrity...and most of all, into a devoted woman of God. In case I haven't said it lately, Dani dear, I'm very proud of you (uh-oh, I'm getting teary here)....and I consider it a blessing beyond words that I have been allowed to be your aunt. May this next year be one of many blessings for you...you are loved deeply...

-Aunt Neese

Only You, God...

I've been reading "The Pursuit of God," by A.W. Tozer...a classic book, yet one I had never read before. I've been over the first two chapters a couple of times now...and I'm drawn in by the truth I'm finding in those pages. Following are a few of the "nuggets" of truth I'm finding...

• We only seek after God because He seeks after us, and has been drawing us to Himself.
  
• In seeking after Him, I must "proceed in the way of simplicity." Seek after God Himself, laying aside any "religious" tenets or practices we have known. In prayer I need to practice "stripping down of everything, even of our theology." Tozer goes on to say, "The man who has God for his treasure has all things in One. Many ordinary treasures may be denied him, or if he is allowed to have them, the enjoyment of them will be so tempered that they will never be necessary to his happiness. Or if he must see them go, one after one, he will scarcely feel a sense of loss, for having the Source of all things he has in One all satisfaction, all pleasure, all delight. Whatever he may lose he has actually lost nothing, for he now has it all in One, and he has it purely, legitimately and forever."
  
• I have a new understanding of the meaning of the "poor in spirit," as mentioned in the Beatitudes ("blessed are the poor in spirit..." - Matthew 5). "Poor in spirit" would suggest a visual image of a poor, hunkered-down soul, someone who is waiting for others to walk over him. NO...the poor in spirit are those who have "rooted from their hearts all sense of possessing...no longer slaves to the tyranny of things. Though free from from all sense of possessing, they yet possess all things."
  
• OK...does this mean that I should not have possessions that I enjoy? Am I to sell all I have and follow hard after Christ? Tozer considers this question by reviewing the life of Abraham. In a nutshell, the fact that Abraham was excruciatingly willing to even give up his son if that is what God asked of him. In evaluating Abraham's surrender to God, Tozer says that Abraham was "a man wholly surrendered, a man utterly obedient, a man who possessed nothing." But wait...wasn't Abraham the guy with a bunch of tents and herds and servants and wealth? What do you mean, he possessed nothing? Tozer answers this question as well - "I have said that Abraham possessed nothing. Yet was not this poor man rich? Everything he had owned before was his still to enjoy: sheep, camels, herds, and goods of every sort. He had also his wife and his friends, and best of all he had his son Isaac safe by his side. He had everything, but he possessed nothing. There is the spiritual secret."

Wow...as these thoughts soaked into my psyche, I couldn't help but wonder what things I hold tightly. I know I am a hopeless collector/keeper of all things meaningful in life. I have several boxes of "scrapbook" stuff...things that I hope someday to put in some semblance of historic order. Old clippings, photos, things, stuffed animals, even precious kitchen utensils once held in the hand of my sweet mom. It is not wrong for me to love these things (nor is it a sin that they are in such disorder); however, do I simply enjoy these things, even treasure these things, or do I possess them?

Spiritually speaking, in my lifetime I have been exposed to many different schools of thought regarding the "spiritual life" and how it should be lived out. Do I take from those things what I feel is from God, or do I possess each idea as law for my life?

I can't help but get a mental image of a very small child desperately clinging to something he fervently desires but which is not good for him...and the adult who is trying equally as desperately to get this "thing" out of the child's clutches. I envision the white knuckles. I see needing to peel each finger off, one by one...I suspect any parent has had this experience.

What am I desperately clinging to? My love for my children/grandchildren/husband? My house? My attempts to achieve some level of financial security? Even my emotional baggage?

Am I willing to pray Tozer's prayer? - Father, I want to know Thee, but my coward heart fears to give up its toys. I cannot part with them without inward bleeding, and I do not try to hide from Thee the terror of the parting. I come trembling, but I do come. Please root from my heart all those things which I have cherished so long and which have become a very part of my living self, so that Thou mayest enter and dwell there without a rival. Then shalt Thou make the place of Thy feet glorious. Then shall my heart have no need of the sun to shine in it, for Thyself wilt be the light of it, and there shall be no night there. In Jesus' Name, Amen.

And then, finally, I read some of David's words from Psalm 31...

• I hate all this silly religion, but you, God, I trust.
• Love God, all you saints; God takes care of all who stay close to him.

More of you, Jesus...until the thing that matters supremely is you...

Where have I been?

OK...so maybe I'm not the most consistent blogger. I fear I have been waiting for some great "illumination" that will spur me on to profundity. But alas, my life is quite "daily." I mustn't look so hard for the profound that I miss out on the random kisses from God in my life.

Such as...

A week ago I had the extreme joy of having my 9-month-old granddaughter at my house for a sleep-over. As this is my first grandchild, I have been reveling in the sheer joy of her existence. And...it is simply icing on the cake that she loves her Gramma. The tender moments of holding her close, rocking her gently until she drifted off to sleep, touched a depth in my heart that I had long ago lost.

On Sunday morning we actually got her...and us...ready in time for the early service at our church. In we marched to the nursery, only to find that nursery care isn't provided for that service. Gulp. With her being in a very animated, active portion of her babyhood, it was with a bit of trepidation that we made the decision to see how she would do in the church service. As we walked into the huge, old sanctuary, she became wide-eyed, soaking in every corner of the room. It was almost as if she could sense God's spirit touching hers. She was unusually calm, and interested in what was happening around her. Fortunately, her tummy was full of rice cereal and fruit...which left her rather lethargically satisfied. Even more fortunately, the first half of the service was almost entirely music. So there we sat, she taking in each note of the music, and I rocking her rhythmically back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

Then something truly heavenly happened. During the last song, "Amazing Grace," I held her close and pressed her little cheek against mine...all the time rocking, rocking, rocking...and there she fell asleep. There could not be a more precious moment for a grandma than that. She continued to sleep through the rest of the service...much to the delight and adoration of those around her. So precious...

I might add, however, that Grandpa Eric was less than thrilled with this outcome. "Why," he queried, "does everyone think it is so cute when she sleeps during the sermon, when it's such an abomination when I miss a few words? It's just not fair..."

Get over it, Grandpa...

I "paws" to think...

Tonight I did the unimaginable...I stepped on her tail. Unintentional, yet firmly square upon her tail. She was just sitting there eating her dinner, minding her own business, and BAM...there it was, this humanoid firm-soled shoe compressing her tail into the kitchen floor. True animal lover that I am, I instinctively gasped and leapt back in horror, for a moment not remembering...

My kitty has been through much with her momma (that would be me). She came into my life several years ago when a stray kitty had the gall to walk into my family room (through the doggy door) and then into our game closet...where she proceeded to give birth to a rather large litter of kittens. We had no idea, until one evening we began hearing this unusual - though rather familiar - high-pitched squeaking noise emanating from the closet. My older daughter fell in love with one of these little kittens - the one with the large black splotch across half of her face - and appropriately named her "Spot." Hmmm...interesting choice of names...but it stuck. And after the girls were gone from the house, somehow Spotty remained.

After my marriage broke up and I found myself heading back to Newberg to a new job, Spotty came along. It was only right.

Of all the kitties I have owned through the years, Spotty was hands-down the bravest. Her valor in the face of possible adversity has been admirable. I suppose her most amazing strength of character is found in her love of dogs...not just your average mutt, but all the Great Danes and Rottweilers of the world. She truly loves them. We have enjoyed hours of entertainment (ok, I'm exaggerating just a bit) watching her interact with the dog across the street. He emerges from his front door periodically to...umm...get back to nature, and there goes Spotty, trotting across the street to spend a few precious moments leaning on him and rubbing against his coarse fur before he returns to the sanctuary of his living room.

But I digress...

Several months ago I was on my way to pick up my daughter at work. At that time she was working the late shift as a hotel desk clerk so there I was, crawling into my car at 11:00 pm to go get her. Wishing I was asleep, I hurridly slammed the car into reverse and backed out of the driveway. It was then that I heard it. It sounded oddly like the painful yowl of a kitty. Feeling just a bit queasy at the prospect, I looked around the car, thinking I had possibly committed the unimaginable. To my relief, I didn't see anything...and I went on my way.

Next morning: Hmmm...where's Spotty? That's not like her...she's always around...must be out "catting around" somewhere...

Long story short...the next afternoon my daughter found her. There she was, lying in a little painful heap in the bushes outside our front door. After an anxiety-ridden trip to the vet, it was determined that she had been laying under the car when I started it up. Unfortunately for her, her tail was in the path of the oncoming tire. Even more unfortunately for her, just as the tire was pinning her tail securely to the driveway she determined that it was the appropriate time to RUN FOR IT. The result, as seen in the remaining strip of fur in the driveway, was that when she ran she pulled her tail from under the tire...

Spotty now has a dead tail. It still has blood flow, so it wasn't truly dead, but it is devoid of all feeling and ability to move. Her once active, perky kitty tail has become this incredibly heavy object that drags behind her when she walks. The vet advised that we have it amputated...and you would NOT believe how much they want to do what any farmer could do in 2 seconds. Therefore, being the good financial stewards that we are, we opted to allow her to keep her little tail (dysfunctional as it is).

Thus explains my unneeded horror at stepping on her tonight. But old habits die hard.

I suppose there should be some sort of a good spiritual parallel here...but frankly, I'm all typed out. I welcome any suggestions.

G'night, Spotty...sleep well, my kitty...

Business meeting

My friend, Gregg, has posted a blog concerning a business meeting last Sunday evening at our church. I must respond. I had the immense pleasure of being in attendance at this meeting, and I went away with a huge sense of having just had a true worship experience. There was something very special in the room...perhaps the presence of Christ? And...I must admit...I found it discouraging that everyone didn't experience it the way I did. Why wasn't everyone feeling the air in the room like I was? Why were so many still engaged in idle chatter when Miriam's sweet voice began drawing us to God's heart? Why were some more concerned with grammatical issues surrounding the final official "minute" than with the content itself? Oh well, it is comforting to know that I was not alone in my perceptions. There were others who sensed what I did. I suppose the bottom line for me was the knowledge that yes, this decision truly was God's leading for NFC. What an awesome privilege to witness such clarity...and even more than that, what an amazing experience for me personally.

Now, don't get me wrong. I realize many of my above comments come off rather "holier than thou." No; I know that the people I mentioned above are committed to Christ and are far more advanced in their journey than I. I suppose, though, that I mention those things because they truly did flounder around in my brain. And...I think I was thrilled that God chose to allow me to sense all that I sensed. Why me? I have not always been in that place. Why God continues to shower down favor on my soul is nothing but pure grace and love.

I am hungry for more of Him.