so Other

I want stability. You want my growth.
I want comfortableness. You empower me to stretch.
I want safety. You offer goodness.
I fear everything. You've conquered ALL.
I'm content with lukewarm. You want passion.
I don't know anything. You give the mind of Christ.
I wait for You to pull. You wait for me to step.
I've tried to do it alone.You never meant for me to.
I lean toward feelings. You supply perfect balance.
I think of the worst. You allow only the best.
I want shortcuts. You are the Way.
Help my unbelief. You are the Truth.

filial wretching

I'm so weary of being the more mature one in this relationship when my parents are supposed to be......... My mom, of all people, is the one who's the more mature, and my dad is the one I want to toss into a recycle bin and start all over with!

He's been pitching hissy fits whenever we've forgotten to call to say we're home safely or WHATEVER. Doesn't matter, he calls and lets us know in no uncertain terms that he is NOT okay with us not having contacted them in one way or another to fill them in on whatever.......

Bbblllllleeeeeeccccchhhhhhhhh............... I just want to retch right now.

No one reads this, so I feel pretty safe in putting out here that I have RE-acted in a patient way toward this man, and I believe it will not get any better in the near future just because I've apologized. Again and again. He's old and cemented and thinks he's always right. What do you do with that...? What in the world do I do now?!

"Mine"

Jylle wrote a song for me for my birthday! She was so excited--she ran downstairs and said, "I finished this song. You have to come and listen!" She fairly dragged me by the hand to her room, where she plopped down on a chair and started into it. It wasn't until I heard the name "Didier's" that the thought dawned on me that this song was about me. Like, for me. I totally interrupted, blurting out, "Is this song for ME?" She didn't miss a beat (literally), just kept singing and nodded her head 'Yes.' Tears flooded my entire face. Felt like it anyway.

Wish I could post the song here, but at least I can show the lyrics.

"Mine"

You could understand me when no one else could
You would stand beside me when no else would
You, you are mine

Drama filled my life when I was only thirteen
You were there to show me how to keep my heart clean
You, you are mine

Rainy days would come and I would ask to hold you
You were there to give me something to hold onto
You, you are mine

All those trips to Didier's we took on Tuesdays
They'll stay in my heart forever and always
You, you are mine

I don't care what they say, I'll always love you
I'll never forget all the funny things we do
You, you are mine

Hate to break it to you, but I've gotta leave sometime
Don't worry about it though, I'll be back in no time
You, you are mine

Start looking different at the start of September
Miles separate us, but just remember
You, you are mine

As I'm growing older, I hope just maybe
I could be a fraction of you, pretty lady
You, you are mine

You, you are mine.


Lord, thank You from the bottom of my gnarly little heart
for this precious gift.
And for the song, too. xoxo

Musings on Aging and Changing (and Not)

Kev is 50 now. I'm going to be 49 in three days. This is way past middle age already. I remember when I was 38, thinking THIS is the midpoint of my life. To live much more beyond 76 is not something look forward to doing. But when I look at our parents, all I can think is how I would HATE for them to be gone! It's hard enough not having Kev's dad anymore.

My dad is 79, kev's mom just turned 79, and my mom is 71. It happens much slower and much less frequently, but I still have moments like I do with my children when I think How did this happen? how did they get to be this age already?

More and more I am convinced that we do not have the tools that would make it possible for us to love our parents as much as we love our children. As the child, there is much gratitude and guilt tied in with the love. As the parent, there is that unconditional love and abiding desire for their best, as well as the will to protect them as much as we possibly can. All too similar are both loves as they relate to my spiritual life.

Perhaps it is just this particular time in my life, but the gratitude and guilt part are nailhead

accurate. How can You stand by and watch me choose poison instead of nectar? How is it that You continue to pour mountains of spices on my already wealthy life? I fear the dropping of the other shoe, the last straw that will cause shouting from the rooftops of all I am guilty of and must answer for.

I am less of a pleasure junkie than I am just wanting not to feel much of anything. I don't seek out great highs and am not fighting great lows. I just simply don't want most of life to make me feel anything but okay. Perhaps "calm" is the best description. I want everything to feel all right, that there's nothing wrong or of great concern on any front.

Not much of a warrior, am I? Sounds like the enemy would be quite pleased with himself. Disengaged, self-absorbed, working for the status quo, I go about these days neither challenged nor challenging to anyone else. Lukewarm. Eeeyuck.

I'm looking for change around the corner though. There is a plan in the works that I know not of, one that will vault me out of this grave and back into the fray. I am made for Life, and Life is the business He is about even now as I consider this. And suddenly I realize that great highs are not so bad after all. It is the fear of descent that lurks and haunts, but fear is nothing to Him Who holds my heart and soul and Whose mind I possess. THESE are the truths I must choose to dwell on. The conversations I have with myself are as important to my mental discipline as drinking in the truth in His word. They carve and sculpt that landscape as surely as my experiences.

Hope. Hope is what I long for, and Hope is what I need. Fortunately for me, Hope is Who I have.

Stroke

Lord, Kathy's Brandt had a stroke, and I can't believe it. They had so little of what I'd call normal time together so soon after their wedding. The fun and adventure and leisure I expected they would enjoy seems like a dull dream now, something only other people get to have. My heart is heavy, and I don't even know how to pray.

She needs You. For a thousand-foot need, You are her thousand-foot crutch. As we lower Brandt on a litter and ask expectantly for Your healing, I come to Your throne boldly and ask for titantic grace and mercy on her spirit, her mind, and her body. This is a hard one, Lord, and she needs the All of You to carry her. No one can do this alone. I don't know if she even has anyone in the area who can offer something to her as simple as a cup of coffee in compassion. She doesn't speak of tight friends, not that I can recall anyway, and her kids aren't in the area. My human tendency is to panic. Fortunately for her, she's nothing like me! Feed her Your truth and keep her steady and trusting.

Hold them firmly, Lord. Grant them the great, great grace of Your felt presence. Give her wisdom as she embarks on this new chapter. Let there still be generous helpings of Your surprise hugs, simple delights, and even joy--somehow, in the way only You can bring about. Grant her mercy, companionship, strength, knowledge, and supernatural peace--Your very own peace, You say in Your word.*

Help me to stand alongside her and offer her whatever comfort and compassion You would flow out through me. Use this thing in their lives to grow them up into a child, and do that in Your soft, tender way, for Your glory.

I'm rambling now... Please help her to get some rest. Give all the doctors, nurses, and helpers wisdom, skill, and compassion. Surround her with Your kindness, Father. XO

a tiny money matter

Seems kind of silly to call one a credit card and the other a debit when they both reduce the amount of money you have. It's nice to have two different names for them though.

I was looking at the word "debit" and realized how extremely close in spelling it is to "debt." And then I realized that the reason my debt grows is because "i" spend money! Interesting, isn't it?! Well, maybe you've already thought about that stuff, but it was new to me.

Where You Go

Oh, Lord, You are so utterly unlike us.

He doesn't acknowledge the wrong I do because He knows He's already dealt with it, and it's a mute point. Instead He is all about drawing me on higher and deeper, always completely marinating me in His titanic love.

I feel like I've been blinded by gaudy lights and baubles for so very long. This is like waking from a drugged coma where I'm rediscovering my legs and hands and neck. Movement is awkward and staggered. There is forward motion though, so I keep on.

I had a dream. I was up on a fence, straddling the top rail. Suddenly it started moving, smoothly and slowly like a horse. When I woke up I thought, "That's funny. I was riding a fenc-----."

Comfortable in my own little world. Content with mediocrity. Exploiting the gift of choice. Believing outside voices instead of God's Word. A dam of unreality is built.

I pray for "the gift of tears."*

The torrent of His purpose and love will not be held back though, and there is divine magma roiling. I pray sincerely and earnestly for the explosion, whatever comes, because He is always and only goodness, loving-kindness, and life.

"Where You Go" - Kim Walker/Jesus Culture

* "From the moment when we are brought face to face with our whole uncensored past and are forced to admit and to take full responsibility for all our faults and failures in thought, word, and deed... our release from spiritual aridity can begin. Only when we realize that self-will and its futile efforts are completely powerless to effect our deliverance can we finally abandon them and throw ourselves solely on the Compassion of the Other Power, which at last can respond to our plea and replace our impotence. Then we may be granted that most precious of confirmatory signs, the gift of tears, which spring forth from the eyes in spontaneous gratitude. Such cleansing tears are tears both of joy and of grief, of remorse for one's hard-hearted pride and perversity, and of purification from all egoistic defilements, but most of all of thanksgiving for the gift of Faith. Only tears such as these can break the drought of self-sufficiency, can water and refresh the barren anger and hatred that have gripped the heart and deprived it of tenderness, and can set free again the living waters of the spirit." ~Harold Stewart

Note: While I do not promote the writings of Harold Stewart, God uses whatever He wants to touch us and move us along in His purpose.

50 Years!

My folks celebrated their 50th anniversary on Sunday, July 19. The actual date is this fall on October 31, but they wanted to do it in the summer so it could be outside in the nice weather, and at least five of their seven grandchildren could come.

My mom wanted "lichon," which is a whole pig roasted on a rotisserie. My brother Alan was put in charge of that, and he found a place that would rent a huge grill and sell them the pig. He and Kev had to "take care" of the pig, and you can see in the picture that this was the way they chose to roast it. Unfortunately, this is not the arrangement my mom was wanting, but to her credit, she handled the bad news amazingly well.

Kev and I will celebrate our 27th anniversary next month. I can't imagine what it must be like to be married for 50 years and say the same things that we're saying now: Where did it go? How did the kids grow up so fast? How did we get this old? How can it be that this much time has passed?

We all share the same yearning to experience with another person love, acceptance, bonding, intimacy, and the pith of life. We want that someone to be there for us when we're vulnerable, shaken, or ugly. We want to be able to count on and trust that someone and likewise to be counted on and trusted. My parents have been extremely blessed to have known the satisfaction of this experience. They expressed their gratitude as well as they could at the party, and bless my mom, she did it with elegance, perfect sentiment, and a wisdom that comes from a personal knowledge of pain, exquisitive joy, and the Love of the Ages.

Like my friend Mae says about our bodies aging but never feeling older in our hearts, "It's a testament to the eternalness of our spirits." At the same time, there comes a deepening of our knowledge of what it means to know love, to be loved, and to be in love. I am profoundly grateful for these gifts in my parents' life together--gifts to them and from them.♥♥

Some LightsHigh...

I cried when we landed; it was love at first sight. I'm going to walk where You walked, see things You saw, and breathe the air where You grew up. Thank You... Palm trees peppered the area around the airport like my own personal happy greeters. Just the sight of them made me glad. "Oasis," I thought. Little could I know how this place would come to water my soul.

Our first stop was in Caesarea, and the surreal turquoise of the Mediterranean Sea was the kind of eye shock I needed to let go of the side of the pool and sink completely under into this trip. GeroniMO!

On the Sea of Galilee, which is really just a big lake, we sailed on the “Faith,” the only boat on the lake run by a Christian. The captain's name is Daniel, a Messianic Jew with well-sunned skin, long wavy black hair, and a simple, light-hearted manner of communicating. We sat on long benches lining both sides of the boat, some of us singing along lazily with the worship music. Except for Cathy who stood on the raised deck and belted her heart out.

Sitting there, I took in the heat, the people around me, the water splashing against the sides, the gentle hills to the east, and the felt presence of His Spirit. You taught here. You ate here. You walked on this lake and calmed its waves. Your footprints are invisible, but they’re there. I know it--2,000 years, and Your fragrance still lingers. Tears came uninvited, and I let them just be. The experience of His nearness always does that to me.

To place my feet on the same stones where Jesus walked to the Temple was fun. It wasn’t moving to me in the same way; it was something joyful and fun. I silently thanked the excavators and all the people involved with clearing and cleaning the enormous area that allows us now to literally walk in His steps.

The Western Wall (no one here calls is the Wailing Wall) brought about something I was not prepared for—grief. To see women in tears, some plastering themselves as tightly to the wall as they could, some seated and reading from prayer books for hours, my heart was crushed by grief. They want You; You want them more. They wait for You, and You’ve already come. They long for deliverance, and Redeemer has paid and risen. Lord God, show them Your Son. Open their eyes and relieve their pain. Karen held me and let me cry. When it was my turn in line, I scrunched my written prayer into a crag in the wall only as a token of respect and tradition. You don’t need me to write this down—You know me better than I know myself. Then I backed away in the manner they practice as one backs away from the presence of a king. I attempted to wipe my eyes and will away the red and then rejoined our group only to find their eyes all wet and red as well…

There are two places proffered as the place of Jesus’ resurrection. The one in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre is a huge, awkward, complicatedly decorated, Russian Orthodox shrine constructed in an incongruous fashion with its surroundings. The priest lets in five at a time, and there are candles and incense burning in the outer chamber. Beyond that is a tiny room with the stone where it’s believed He was laid. There are candles and a painting in the Russian Orthodox order.

The Garden Tomb is the other place, and we ended our tour there. From the get go, we were greeted by a lively British man whose excitement was contagious as he told us about why he believes this place is the grounds of Golgotha and then not far from that, the tomb.

It’s all outdoors in a beautiful garden setting with places for meditation or just enjoyment carved out in the flora and fauna. The explanations he gave grew on me as the facts and Scriptures he laid out seemed to gel and jive. We took turns going into the tomb, and as Mr. Corker said, “It is completely unenshrined, Hallelujah!”

We had communion afterward on our own, and after that a time of sharing as anyone felt moved. I felt it was the fullest in spirit our little group had been the entire time, actually the only time Kevin and I felt our motley crew was united. It was a truly beautiful place, and the serenity, joy, and humble thankfulness we experienced there was an exquisite seal on the priceless gem that was this visit.

Interestingly enough, it was one of the few place where I didn’t cry. I think Joy, Peace, Victory, and Love were there in abundance and served to make me simply utterly content. For that reason, I hold it forever hugged and smiled on in the room of my heart set aside just for this Garden.

Shalom.

mentalpause

Re-entry is almost always a little tricky, and this is no exception. It's not like I didn't have enough time because I had plenty. It's not like I wanted to stay or even that I'd turn around and go right back if I could. The only thing that comes close to nailing it is how you seem to grow another heart the day you have a baby. It's like that heart belongs entirely to that child, and he can be anywhere in the world--Madrid, Texas, or downstairs in his room--but inside that heart that resides in your core, an essential part of you is somehow righthere with him. I had a connection intellectually with Israel before, but now it's grown arms and legs and skin and hair and blood. I've had a small taste of His longing over, protection of, and passionate history with the people of this place, and something inside me has changed.

I never wanted to be one of those people who constantly makes references to the exotic place she's just visited. That gets old f-a-s-t. Chances are however, that I'm probably more like the things I'd rather not be, so I hope you'll give me grace and maybe a gentle nudge if I lapse into that behavior. You'll know that even though I'm right there in your living room or commenting away online, there's a wadge of me away across the sea...

Deuteronomy 7:6-9