Ryan will go back to school this weekend. I can't believe his whole summer has gone. Looking back, it doesn't seem like there was even one day when I wished we were doing something else. All the days that he slept in and all the time he spent playing guitar or being on the computer, I was glad he was able to. I simply like that he's in the house. I suppose that once he's lived out of the house longer than he's lived in it, the feeling that this is the way it's supposed to be will diminish. Judging from the eagerness in both sets of our parents to see us and have us stay with them, I don't think it ever goes away completely.
Knowing that he's looking forward to getting back and seeing his best friends is worth a lot to my heart. Knowing that his classes are only getting more difficult is a little hard, but I know he can do it. I suppose I'll probably cry again, before and after he leaves, but knowing that's a natural and healthy thing makes it not as dread-full as it's been in the past. One last, good cry pretty much wraps it up until the next time. I just hope he keeps calling at least once/week because that makes me happy. I love you, Ryrie. XO
Do you know how much damage can be done when you expect to be the Center of someone's universe? Do you realize how complicated you make it when your level of expectation exceeds reason? Where is this Grace you preach...? Where is this Love you speak of...?
You are so young. But you have experienced a great deal: Depth. Life. Miracles. Grief. Sorrow. Confusion. Complication. Tenderness. Courage. I don't consider that lightly. But this is hard.
This seems to be three steps forward, three steps back. This no longer seems worth it to me. Maybe it's a good thing I'm not much in the scheme of things because I would no doubt make this situation worse than it already is. I thought I knew your heart. Obviously I don't. I got caught presuming.
When Mary's heart was pierced through, did anyone remember the prophecy? Did she even, until the midst of it? To see your child suffer is a grief no parent can bear in a lovely way. It stinks. It's a mountain of misery, and more often than not, this mother's knee jerk reaction is to slap at the hornet rather than to be still and know that He is God, at work, alive, revealing...
After
Psalm 103:11-12 was written on the note left on the counter, “For as the heavens are high above the earth, so great are His mercy and loving-kindness toward those who reverently and worshipfully fear Him. As far as the east is from the west, so far has He removed our transgressions from us.”
I needed a fresh reminder of my own sin and level of unreasonable expectation. If I find that I am unwilling to forgive, if I have uttered the words, “How could you…” then I need the tender revelation once gain of which world I belong to. The rules and tools of that other world have no function or place , like using a tennis ball to build a house, or a sock to magnify. The rules of the Kingdom, of the Overcoming Life, are the tools of the Redeemed—humbled at being saved, forgiven, and given the scandalous privilege of walking as Daughter or Son, that to walk in any other manner than that of Abiding is not an option.
Where is this Grace I preach if it does not begin with me? Where is this Love I speak of if it isn’t seen immediately in my own life? I have been forgiven of far worse, and I drop the stones I would hurl in a red hot hurry as I acknowledge that my board is greater than your sliver. I wish you sweetness and roses as you are delivered from your self in this walk as we all will be. XO
Psalm 32:6-8 For this forgiveness let everyone who is godly pray—pray to You in a time when You may be found; surely when the great waters of trial overflow, they shall not reach the spirit in him. You are a hiding place for me; You, Lord, preserve me from trouble, You surround me with songs and shouts of deliverance. Selah. I the Lord will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel you with My eye upon you.
Shock rocked the Valley as news of Georgie McCanna's sudden death spread literally like wildfire. Phone and various local news chains lit up, as did text messages, the disturbing information branching out to people exponentially.
I still don't have all the facts, just that she was at the pool on Monday morning, July 12, when she suffered a massive heart attack, which killed her almost instantly. No rescue attempt made any difference; she didn't even have time to say one last thing. She was gone, just like that.
I think about her at least 20 times a day. I have so many questions, so many things I would've liked to have told her. She was one of those people who really listened when you spoke. She made you glad you ran into her and grateful that she was there. She was just one of those rare people who are really easy to love.
Georgie was only barely 50. She had no previous indications of a heart problem and in fact, exercised vigorously and faithfully. She was one of the creators of the exercise group at the middle school, and I often saw her strapping on her sneakers after school was over, ready to climb stairs and walk the halls with friends and co-workers.
I keep thinking of how one day her husband was probably thinking of where they might go to enjoy some of this summer break, and the next day, he's picking out his wife's casket. It's insane. I cannot wrap my little mind around it. It's just not the way it's supposed to be. It's just all too unreal.
Her service was as lovely and as loving as one could be. It was at the Catholic church, and I'd never been there before. We got there pretty early because we knew there'd be standing room only by start time. I picked one of the back pews, but Kev suggested the opposite side, and it wasn't until afterward that he told me it was because we would've been sitting right in front of the casket, something he deems just a little uncomfortable.
Two of her closest friends stood up together to read tributes and to tell a little about her. After that, her husband and youngest son got up to tell us their own. Michael graduated with my Brett, and he has a great sense of humor. He made everyone laugh with his recounting of how Georgie kept guessing "Sheep herder!" in one round of Pictionary, no matter how he tried to get her to shorten it. "It's shepherd, Mom! Shepherd!" From then on, any time you didn't know what the answer was, you'd just say, "Sheep herder!" Craig assured everyone that he loved his life with Georgie, and that while his world has come to a complete stop right now, he would go on again without her. There wasn't a dry eye in the room, and people cried freely and without embarrassment. This was a soul whose spirit was so sweet and thoroughly kind that it would be a shame to her memory to withhold honor that she would have so freely expressed.
Death is our own personal, final enemy. But for those of us who are in Christ, even Death has been ultimately silenced and rendered impotent. It is the gateway to real Life where it will not at all exist except perhaps as some distant reminder of having been vanquished by the One Who gave everything, so that we might inherit His All and live forever inside Love, Joy, and Peace.
So, Georgie, I will miss you. Everyone who ever knew you will miss you. The world is a less joyful place without you in it, and I'm praying for the people who loved you and whose hearts are in pieces. I know you are knowing Joy now, so enjoy that Life...
We said our goodbyes to you today. You would've hated being the center of attention, but your friends and family did a fabulous job of holding it together well enough to give honor to your life and acknowledge before the world how much they love and miss you.
Little Janie was beautiful. Craig was strong. Michael was hilarious. You would've loved that.
No one can believe it. It's all ridiculously horrible. How can a light so blazingly bright be gone now?! How does the earth keep turning, mail get delivered, the sun keep shining? How do the people who love you find a new normal without you when you were their North Star?
You were a huge part of why JMS is such a great place to work. The fingerprints of your heart work were everywhere. You made me laugh. You made me feel safe. And welcome. And cared about. There was nothing you weren’t there to help me with. You made me brave when I had to face the lunch lady about the food I'd used by mistake. You never made me feel dumb when time and again I'd forget to unlock the girls' locker room. Your smile and encouraging words were always exactly what I needed to go on and do the next thing right.
Your smile lit up a room. Your humility and strength were quiet, but so very sure. You were a driving force behind so many others' accomplishments, but no one outside might ever realize that. You were certainly the wind beneath so very many wings. So many beautiful facets to miss about you...
There's a hole the size of a galaxy here now. While we treasure knowing that we'll see you again someday, it's all the days in between now and then that will make the rest of this life here seem terribly long. But Brenda was right--the greater tragedy would've been to have never known you. You are a princess, as beautiful inside as out, with a kindness, integrity, and humility that endeared you to anyone who spent any time with you at all.
I thank the Lord for your life. I know He'll hold you close and treasure you in this last Dance. See you soon… XO
It's taken more than a week for my voice to get back to near normal. The evening headaches and retching have been hard to get a handle on, and I can't tell where my activity limit is, so I'm still trying to feel that one out. I wake with three specific symptoms, live out the day doing whatever, and feel around rather blindly around evening time looking for hand holds. Going to bed at 9:00 seems to be a good idea so far.
A nurse friend asks occasionally, "So how's your lung cancer?" She always wants me to get this cough checked into because the rate of lung cancer cases is spiking. I always know though, that it's not lung cancer. It's just something that sticks around a long time, but eventually always goes away. Like a bad meal.
I actually had fun at Hoopfest yesterday! Ryan and I didn't get there until about noon, and we spent half an hour just looking for a parking spot. It didn't look good when we saw all kinds of people heading toward the park blocks and blocks north of it. We finally found something about 6 blocks away, and a guy pulled in behind us right when we got there. I made fruit kabobs and brought lots of ice water, and we took turns carrying the cooler to lighten the burden.
The first game we saw was Zeb's. We hefted ourselves over the stone wall, and I felt bad crushing the day lilies. No one around us seemed to care, and one guy and I even laughed about how "anything goes 'cause it's Hoopfest!" Still felt bad being a crusher though. Kev and Dave H were camped out under a huge tree, two oldie guys each with a camping chair and a book in complete surround-shade.
Kev's first game happened so fast that he didn't have time to re-injure his bad ankle. The crushing took all of ten minutes, and it was soundly over. The second game took a little longer, but only after Dave R was steam rolled by an opponent disguised as a wall. His jaw ended up misaligned, but even more damage was inflicted upon his sense of manhood. "Huh!" Take that, mean man!
Not wanting to see our guys further tossed about like rag dolls, Barb and I took a short jaunt into Nordstrom where she treated Ryan to a peach smoothie while he waited for us with his book. I tried on a scarf and matching hat in vivid fuchsia. Would've bought both of them, but I had just given my spare $300 to a homeless waif. Darn.
Ryan stayed at the park with Zeb, and I took off for home. Realizing that I had no one waiting for me and really no reason to zip straight home, I took a few detours, which eventually landed me some much-needed grocery items as well as a dandy little bag of treasures from Bath and Body Works for 75 percent off! I was extremely pleased with my bargains and agreed with myself to go home now. But only after one last stop for a frozen pizza and ice cream.
I started going to youth group Jylle's freshman year just so she could go. I always did like the worship, and now I could hang out with some of the high school kids I really enjoy. Now that Ryan's home for the summer, I don't have to go. In fact, she has her license now so she can drive herself. But I'm still going. For one thing, Kev doesn't object. Secondly, I still enjoy it. There are kids I really look forward to seeing, and if I don't see them on Wednesday, I won't see them at all.
Ryan wrote a poem for me that contains the phrase, "a high school girl at heart." I've never forgotten that because it's fraught with meaning. On the negative side, it could mean I'm not that mature and still involve myself in shallow, frivolous matters. Stings, but it's true. On the positive side, it could mean that I will ever be able to relate to the things that these young women care about, whether it's the shallow or the not-so. I like being able to relate and be relevant to these girls whose hearts I truly care about. Being able to listen and empathize and then pray for and with them is a privilege, and I know it's work that He's put before me.
Maybe I like how carefree and ready to laugh they are. Maybe I like their contagious joy and their eagerness to be together. Maybe grown-ups are serious a LOT, and I like a break from that. Maybe it's more than I even know. All I know that I have a big green light, and that's a good enough Go for me.
Off to straighten my hair and buy some gum. Gosh.....
"God continually introduces us to people for whom we have no affinity, and unless we are worshipping God, the most natural thing to do is to treat them heartlessly..."
There's a teenager at church I'm not particularly fond of; I even unfriended him and then clicked "Ignore" when he sent a second friend request a few months later. While I did accept his third friend request just last week, I'm still not particularly fond of this kid. He's just really odd, and when I'm around him, I feel very self-conscious, the way I do around people whom I think don't like me.
He's here at my house right now, about 10 feet away. I'm often reminded of what Cheryl shared with me from Oswald Chambers the day I told her about the whole unfriending thing. It was something to the effect of "When you treat someone harshly, it means you're unwilling to take on that person's burden." Jylle has also told me that it's not that he doesn't like me--he's just awkward and odd, but she still wants to be his friend.
As I sit here praying, I have this determination to simply love him. Awkwardness, oddness, and self-consciousness all aside, I will love him in Christ. I will treat him like a friend. He is my brother, after all. Thank You, Father, for Your Love that supercedes all.
There's so much that is worthy of my attention--immediate family, extended family, quiet time fodder, eccentricities of the day, the latest Democratic dance... They range from whisperings to outright screechings. I'm sure you can relate. These all seem so awfully important as they rear their heads.
"Gather the people together to Me and I will make them hear My words, that they may learn reverently to fear Me all the days they live upon the earth and that they may teach their children," (Deut. 4:10). These are the words that I want to want to heed wholeheartedly.
My children are my Achilles. Do or say what you will to me, but watch well what you direct toward my kids. I have antennae alert, the initiation of which I am not aware. Defenses arise, and I am not even alert to them until the threat has passed, is defused, or deemed impotent. Always I wish this vulnerability was not so great. I wish I could sip a lattè while lackadaisically pointing out varied and sundry weak spots in my world and the people who comprise it as if it didn't matter. Alas, I am not made of such strong stuff.
I am made of the most fragile chiffon. If soul was a tangible element, I might be cotton candy--reduced to pink sugar syrup at the introduction of enemy moisture. Afar, I might appear hefty and extensive and well-connected. But is anyone all that...?
When people validate you as kind and thoughtful and "wonderful"--what happens inside? Do you scramble to justify all that? I do. When time goes on and I remember what I really am, I pray. Hard. I want to fling off all that's not truly me and put on Christ so that I can be so. much. more. of that wonderfulness. I scramble to make it about Him and not me because I always make everything about me, even when I'm trying to make it about anything else. Ultimately I want to hear, and learn reverently to fear, and to have my children hear--and obey, and abide.
Doesn't seem like this is as connected and relevant as I intended at the start, but that's how it usually goes. I hear or see or think something and believe it's blogworthy. And so it might be in the right hands. Seems my hands are elsewhere. I am content. That's worth something, right?
I have a niece who's one of those rarest of finds. She's a beautiful girl, tall, slim, with coffee-colored hair and eyes the color of a summer sky. It is her heart that captivates me though. We are polar opposites politically but she puts me to shame when it comes to living out the Gospel. She has exhibited more grace and maturity in the face of trial and opposition than most of the believers I've ever known, myself being the least.
Her joy leaves you wanting more. Her humor is quick, often self-effacing, but always wonderfully out there. She inquires into my life, into my heart, my well-being, and when she questions, it's as if I'm the only person in the room or certainly the one she cares about the most at that moment. She makes you feel important, relevant, and worthwhile. Seldom has she ever given her attention to anything else when we talk. Her gaze is steady, focused, and intent, and you find yourself wanting to bless her with your words and an equal attention.
She is a wonderful writer, and I wonder if the Palouse realizes the jewel they have in that rural area. While her talents might later be put to use in a large, metropolitan city, possibly not even in the States, I hope her heart will always be drawn back home here. I love just knowing she's in the area, as if that makes the sun just a little nearer in the winter.
I admire you, Jeslyn. And since my human love is so small, I love you with God's bottomless, infinite, overwhelming Love. mmWAH.
Ryan will go back to school this weekend. I can't believe his whole summer has gone. Looking back, it doesn't seem like there was even one day when I wished we were doing something else. All the days that he slept in and all the time he spent playing guitar or being on the computer, I was glad he was able to. I simply like that he's in the house. I suppose that once he's lived out of the house longer than he's lived in it, the feeling that this is the way it's supposed to be will diminish. Judging from the eagerness in both sets of our parents to see us and have us stay with them, I don't think it ever goes away completely.
Stumble It!
