The Chronicles of Riley- A life well lived

I think every family that has ever had pets at some point has that one dog that just changes your family forever. Riley was that dog for us. We buried him a year and a half ago after living with him for 14 years. We will miss him for the next 14 years I am sure. I told the kids that one day I would write down his stories. He has been gone long enough that I can do it now with fondness and tears but without the grief. I should probably start with how Riley came to be a part of our family.

This actually starts with a box full of kittens and Kenzie's preschool. Someone dropped them off one day and when I went to pick Kenz up- there was one little fluffy white kitten left. I figured every little girl needed a kitten so we brought him home and named him Toby. We watched him like a hawk never letting him outside unsupervised. One day he wandered out the front door for approximately 2 seconds before I followed him out and in that miniscule amount of time he was attacked by a neighborhood cat and got his leg broken. Did I mention we had no money to fix a broken leg on a stray cat? But somehow we managed to cover his vet bill and brought him home to recuperate. Which he did quite quickly. Now I am thinking we rescued him, loved him, and now patched him up- so this cat is going to love us forever and be in love with us. Well he obviously thought differently. I think his thought process was more like- "These people have only had me like a month and they already broke my leg- I am out of here." And he promptly moved next door with our neighbor that had 8 other cats. We would go bring him home every day and he would go right back the first chance he had. This went on for weeks until our egos could not take the humiliation of having to beg our cat to live with us, and we just let our sweet neighbor have him.

So our first attempt at a family pet was a huge failure. Kenzie was not too disappointed by the time we gave up on keeping him, but I felt terrible that her kitty had moved out. We went on for quite some time petless. Then one day I looked out my kitchen window and saw running across the yard of my neighbor across the street (not the cat lady) the cutest puppy I had ever seen. I went out to "investigate" - which is really code for "pet,kiss, and snuggle" and found out he was a long-haired dachshund...and he had brothers and sisters.

I was sold. I knew this would be the redemption for the runaway cat. We packed Kenzie up and headed out to the farm where these puppies were waiting. When we arrived, the puppies and their mom were all in a chain link kennel in the front yard. We asked where the dad was and were told he always escaped the fence and they didn't know where he was right at the moment. -You know when you read a book and there is this little detail you read and realize it's important- you're not sure why but you know it is? Well this was one of those details that I should have picked up on at the time. It was a foreshadowing of life that lay ahead. -

We knew we wanted a boy and there was only one little boy left- so we scooped up this cute little bundle of red fur and black eyes and took him home to live right across the street from his brother, Griff. That was the beginning of our life with Riley.

Walking

On Tuesday nights, I have an hour and a half to kill at the soccer fields. I spend about half of this time watching soccer practice and the other half walking a loop around the fields. I go up the stairs to the upper parking lot around the top, down the side, then loop to the far outside of the bottom parking lot- partly to make as big a loop as possible and also because when I started this it was August and the far side of the lot was in the shade- then circle around the back of the fields and end up back at the bottom of the stairs. I will make this loop 3-4 times on a typical night.
Last night, I noticed another lady at the top part of my loop walking the opposite direction. We passed in the middle of the upper parking lot- I noticed she was about my size and walking about my pace. I remember this because I was thinking too bad I didn't know her because we could walk together since we were walking about the same. I made my loop and as I entered the upper lot, I passed her again, I noticed something else. We weren't passing in the middle this time- she was further on my side. Hmm...that didn't make sense. Was she walking faster than me? It didn't look like it. Maybe I needed to pick up my pace a little. So I did. Next loop- same thing. She's even further on my side of the parking lot. What the heck! At this point, I am completely bothered by this. As I loop around again I am wondering how she is going so much faster than me- I knew she wasn't running because she wasn't hot and sweaty enough to be doing that.
Am I really shallow enough to be concerned about someone walking faster than me? Oh yes and not just concerned but starting to feel a little insecure about my own pace. Maybe I am much slower than I think I am? Maybe I am not in very good shape? Maybe, maybe, maybe....
Then in God's infinite grace He let me realize that I was only passing her on the upper lot and not the lower. We were walking different routes- she was taking the inside of the bottom lot while I was swinging to the outside. If we were on different paths, I certainly could not compare our pace! I was so relieved and slightly embarrassed that I had spent the last 20 minutes trying to figure this out.
The real irony was before I noticed her and became completely distracted I was praying about not feeling like I was "behind" in my life with where God wanted me to be. I see others going off to school, writing books, leading mission teams to Africa, and I feel so plain and ordinary. Like I need to "pick up the pace". He is so sweet to me- that He took my neurotic compulsion to compete with another walker to show me a truth for the rest of my life. I am on my own path. You are on your own path. I cannot compare where I am and what I am doing with anybody else- because my path is unique to me. I may pass others along the way that look similar and seem to be doing the same thing, but even though our paths cross repeatedly, I can never forget we are on a different route to our destination. This is so relieving!
Also- as a little side note- since I was taking the outside lot, I was most likely walking faster...not that it matters...I'm just sayin'.

Chicken

Chicken Run is a kids movie about a chicken farm where the chicken's owners decide that eggs are not profitable enough and go into the business of pot pies. The whole movie is about the chickens trying to escape from these horrible owners who are going to eat them. As horrifying as it sounds, it's actually a pretty funny little movie. Halle and one of her friends pulled out the old VHS tape to watch it again this past weekend- yes, VHS still exists and yes, I still have a VCR in my house and no, Fred Flintstone is not running it. As the girls sat eating lunch and watching the movie- rooting for the chickens to be victorious, I found it quite ironic that they were eating fried chicken. The girls would be the first to say the owners were wrong for wanting to kill the chickens but they saw no problem eating the ones on their plates.
Life is like a box of chicken...Just kidding. But more often than I would care to admit, I have loudly denounced something in someone else's life as I sit feasting on the bones of that very thing in my own. Oh that I would get to a place where I can see clearly my hypocrisies and would not rush in so quick to judge others! The Bible calls for wisdom but it says to be wise as serpents, gentle as doves. It's that last part that really needs some work. How is it possible to have the wisdom to see other people's "stuff" and not judge? When we realize, not know it in our heads but way deep down in our guts-realize that we have not only some of the same stuff- but even more stuff- then we can love well. Then we become "chief sinners" like Paul called himself. If we know we are the worst of the worst then we are okay with everybody else's pretty bad. But the only way we can face our stuff and our worst of the worst status is if we are secure in what Jesus says about us.
We are not just loved, but lovely..not just forgiven, but holy and righteous...not just accepted, but favored,...not servants, but children. He sees Himself when He looks at us because He covered all of our "stuff" with His "stuff"- and His stuff is pretty darn good. I will gladly accept who I am -the worst of the worst- for who I get to be..a lovely, holy, righteous, favored child of the King of Kings.

Facial

I went to get a facial yesterday. This is usually a quite pleasant experience- an hour of relaxation and I leave with glowing skin. Yesterday, however, I happened to tell Jan that my skin was looking a little splotchy. Big mistake. She says, very casually, " Oh I have a great treatment for your skin. It's called fire-and-ice." That really should have been enough said but I was so relaxed on the table with the quiet room-no kids asking me for anything, no dogs barking, or phones ringing...You see how I could get caught up. I naively agreed to the treatment and prepared to be pampered. After an hour of intense burning pain I am done. She told me as I left I might be a little red in some spots the next day. That was to be expected since the whole purpose was to get rid of the sun damaged areas on my skin that were under the surface causing the splotches.
I woke up this morning looking like I had been mauled by an alley cat. The right side of my face is particularly bad, apparently because of the sun coming in the car window and hitting that side of my face. It looks like shrapnel sprayed my face with all these red spots and patches everywhere. My daughter asked why I had a black eye. I explained it was not black, it was a "little red", that was all- just ask Jan. What is most disturbing is that I asked for this. I wanted to get rid of those splotches and the only way was to bring them to the surface to remove them.

I have had this same experience with God many times. I tell Him the things I want to get rid of in my life, and He casually says, "Oh I have a great treatment for that..." The things I want gone don't disappear, no- He brings circumstances that draw them to the surface where I can see them for what they are- ugly...very ugly. I would rather the process not go this way. I would like for them to disappear under the surface never to be heard from again. But He knows this cannot be. They have to come out. Then and only then can they be healed. We don't like to wear our flaws and imperfections out in the open for other people to see but if we never face our failures then how can we overcome them? Fortunately we are not alone in this. Jan sent me home to deal with my face but He never sends us on this journey alone. He will face those ugly spots with us and He will heal all those places. He will not let us be put to shame in our broken and frail state. he promises to cover our ugliness with His beauty, our failure with His victory. It is sometimes a painful process, so maybe it is true- beauty really is pain. But with Him it has a purpose and even better- the pain is only temporary and the results are even more impressive than un-splotchied skin!

Raod trip

We had a football game in Augusta last weekend. Brad was out of town, Kenzie was away at a cross-country meet so Halle and I were left to attend and cheer the Knights on, specifically #22. The day before the game I got a text from Brandt asking if a friend of his could ride to the game with me and stay the night with us in the hotel. I asked him if this boy really wanted to ride 3 hours in a car with people he doesn't know? Awkward. No reply from Brandt. When I get home Brandt, taking my question as a "no" instead of just a question, has prepared for me all the reasons why I should let this kid ride. As he is going through this convincing speech about how great this boy is and how much I will like him and what his background is ,etc.. I thought if Brandt only understood that I don't have to know this boy because I know the one asking me. That is all I needed to bring Nate along. I know the boy asking and I love him. It is irrelevant who Nate is and what his personality is like.
We try so often to convince God to answer our prayers with all these reasons we feel are valid. And we forget we are the beloved children. He doesn't answer us because we have convinced Him or because we deserve it- He answers out of love for us. He just loves us. He doesn't do what we want anymore than I always give Brandt what he wants. The point here is the heart from which He responds. Out of an overflow of love and affection for an imperfect child- but the imperfection is not what He notices- He sees that it is His child asking- the child He knows and loves. If we really understood how He longs to have relationship with us we would run to Him and not away from Him. We would long to know Him more- to be with Him more. We would rest in knowing He is for us and He is good and He is not in a bad mood all the time, irritated with our failure. He is a good dad, the best there ever has been.

Lost

This weekend I was in a very small town with 2 friends and none of us were familiar with the area. We were leaving a local restaurant and heading to a church. We were told it was 5 minutes away. It was 6:50. We made it into church at 7:40. Did we break down? Did we stop to help someone? Did we make a pit stop for dessert and coffee? No to all of these. We got lost. Going in a straight line. With 2 GPS systems.

"Wow" is what I'm sure you're thinking. Rightfully so- that is totally deserving of a wow. I actually would not have thought it was possible had I not been in the car. How can you get lost going in a straight line? Well first you don't go in a straight line. You arbitrarily turn and then turn again, and then turn around. Then you ask people walking for directions and they tell you they don't live there. Really? Who comes to Moultrie on vacation? Then you drive and turn some more. Then ask someone else for directions. It all comes down to bad Intel.
First we didn't research ahead of time to know where we were going and we had to rely on locals for directions. Now every person we asked truly believed they knew where that church was and how to get us there. Ironically- the lady digging through the trash for lottery tickets is the only one who sent us the right way.
I see this all around the world. People are searching for direction, looking for the truth. We, the church, should be the "local" authorities on Truth and not just point people to him but introduce them. Sadly, this is not happening. People are getting bad intel. They are running in circles and everywhere they turn is more misinformation. We misinform by misrepresenting. When i was in Guatemala the missionary showed us one of the few evangelical churches in the city, then he told us a young girl in a wheelchair fro one of the local villages used to attend church there. Until the Pastor told her to stop coming because she was a distraction. In her wheelchair. To her, this man represents God. If he thinks she is taking up valuable space in his church and needs to go away- what does this say about God?
I want to run to this girl and hold her and tell her my God is not like that man- He would be pulling her out of that wheelchair to dance. He would laugh with her and love her and heal her. She is precious to Him and He never wants her out of His presence. And I would like to scream at this pastor. How dare he! But then I know I am just like this pastor- broken and afraid. Maybe he's embarrassed that he cannot offer her the healing Christ died for or maybe he really does believe he is too busy to help the sick. I don't know but I know I have misrepresented Christ more often than I have done Him justice. I cannot judge his actions or his heart but I can weep over the hurt of the girl and the man- and the God who wants to heal them both- but they don't understand who He is or what He came to do.
We need good directions so we can give good direction. We have to be healed ourself before we can offer healing to someone else. To say we've heard God can do mighty things is great- but to say He has done mighty things for us is believable. Suddenly we are credible and not just good storytellers. We don't need a GPS, we need an encounter. And you never know- sometimes those encounters come in the most unlikely places or people. Even a lady digging through the trash can point you in the right direction sometimes.

Tight tuck

All right- this is going to be short and sweet tonight. All you older guys out there- stop it with the tight tuck and the pants pulled up to your pits. I do not know when this was ever in fashion but I know it has never been flattering. It elongates the butt to about 5 times its original size (atleast I hope it's not really that size) and shortens your torso to almost nonexistent. Please, for the love of all that is attractive, if you have to hike your pants up (and I really do not understand how guys of all people could find this comfortable), but if you must- then at the very least leave your shirt untucked so the rest of us aren't forced to look and wonder how you can possibly get your pants that high. And if you MUST tuck - why the tight tuck? Must the shirt be jammed so tightly into your pants that it keeps your arms pinned at your side? How about a litle give- a little blousing out? Come on, it's 2010- give whatever decade that was a rest and try something daring...bootcut.

Culture

I realized the state of my life tonight as I had a very serious conversation with Halle about why Nick is my favorite Jonas brother. Even more alarming than the fact that I actually have a favorite Jonas brother is that I can substantiate my preference. Disney is running my life.
I thought back to our summer in New York- seeing Broadway plays and spending afternoons at MOMA, walking through Central Park and Chelsea Market..thinking at the time of all the culture my kids' were being exposed to. Yesterday we went to a local arts festival and they had painted the porta-pottys with famous artwork- classy, I know. We passed one with the Mona Lisa on it and Halle pointed out to her friend- "Look, it's Queen Latifah"...Alarming. The upside is it atleast rhymed with Mona Lisa. But seriously? Is this all I have taught my children? They will be adults and remember discussing Hannah Montana and NASCAR with their mother but have no idea who Michelangelo is.
Our culture shapes so much about us- but it's funny how little we step outside of it and look at what exactly it is making of us. It's not just my kids, but my own life. There are a million things competing for my time and attention- which of these will I let have the biggest voice in my life? Which will I let shape me? Or will I shape my culture? Will I be a force that has an effect on those around me for their betterment? Or will I let myself be entertained to death? It's hard to be counter-cultural and still be relevant. I wish I could find that balance as easily as I can pick my favorite Jo Bro. I think this will be a battle not won in a day but over a lifetime. I pray I keep my eyes and my focus on what has true value and don't settle for art on a porta-potty.

Revenge

Last night we had the collision of two perfect moments at my house. Hale and Brad were wrestling on the couch when it took an ugly turn, like it nearly always does. Her newly pierced ears were bumped by Brad's flailing arms as he tried to avoid her tickling. This resulted in Halle running upstairs in tears and Brad sending me after her since she was no longer speaking to him. This was the beginning.
When I found her upstairs, she was in my bathroom crying and nursing her ears. Since we were beyond the point of reason, I did what any good mother would do when their child has been wronged and suggested revenge. This brought an immediate sparkle to her eye and grin to her face. My idea was toothpaste. I said "Get some on your finger, and go down like you're hugging dad and smear it on him." In my mind, this looked like a pea size amount of toothpaste gently smeared across Brad's cheek. As with most things, though, it did not go the way I imagined.
Before Halle could enact Operation Make-Dad-Pay, Brad came upstairs and laid across the bed. At the exact moment Halle is plotting her revenge, Brad looks at me unknowingly and says,"I've just decided to adopt an I don't care attitude about everything." How appropriate.
So now that he's laying down the hug would be awkward but ever the quick thinker, Halle came up with her own way. She asked me to pull Brad's shirt up like I was going to scratch his back and ever so discreetly block his view of the incoming wrath of Halle-which turned out to be a handful of gel toothpaste (again,not the kind I was imagining as it is a lot goopier and, well, disgusting) smeared all over his back. Gel toothpaste, by the way, is remarkably colder than you might think right out of the tube. Brad eventually catches his breath, finds out what has just happened to him, and asks Halle to get a wash rag to clean it off. I think he was envisioning a warm rag- but again- this would be wrong to assume. Halle throws, literally, an ice cold rag across his back. I really thought he was going to come up off the bed this time.
What is the point of this whole story? I guess the first lesson here would be- don't mess with Halle. Second- it's just a whole lot like life. The moment you decide nothing is going to bother you- something will come along to see if you really mean it.

Giants

Someone said today "When I stand among giants, I feel taller." I thought that was such a great statement. She was talking about surrounding yourself with people that are further along than you- that have something you want in your own life but haven't quite got yet. And I thought how often this has the opposite affect. When you are around people with more money- you get envious. More in shape- you get depressed. More knowledge- you feel foolish.
But when someone has more Jesus- that's a different story. I said more Jesus, though, not more religion. Religion is suffocating and oppressive and makes you feel guilty and worthless. But having more Jesus really just translates to having more freedom- and we always want more of that when we see it. We were created to be free- precisely why the Tree of Life was smack dab in the middle of the garden. The devil didn't put it there- God did. Because He knew if we couldn't choose, it wasn't really love. The whole basis of our life and relationship with Him is freedom- before us is life and death, blessing and curse- but it is always our choice.
And being around people that consistently choose life makes you want to choose it more for yourself. Because they don't choose Him out of obligation or guilt- they choose Him out of love. They realized that they were meant for freedom and He was the only One who loved them enough to give them theirs. So I will stand a little taller among the giants I am lucky enough to know.

Organic

We are going organic at my house as much as possible. We haven't become health nuts by any stretch of the imagination but I am trying to buy organic on the food items that we eat on a regular basis. We are not going to be one of those families that will ONLY eat organic foods for a couple of reasons. The first being- it's just too hard. It's enough of a challenge to plan meals around sports, school, and diabetes- if I narrow my options down to organic only- there would be some hungry people in my house! The second reason is less of a reason and more of a person- Halle Meghan.

Halle is my 9 year old and she is full of sass. Not the disrespectful sass but the I-know-exactly-who-I-am-and-what-I-want kind of sass. And she emphatically does NOT want organic. Specifically- she does not want organic milk. "I do not drink this stuff" she tells me every time I buy it. Now there are many food items I will compromise on- but milk is one that I strictly buy organic. The kids drink too much of it and regular milk has too much junk added to it- plus you really cannot taste any difference. Peanut butter, I understand- you can definitely tell a difference in the taste. But if I poured that milk into a regular container she would never know it was organic. Just the word- organic- grosses her out. "I don't like anything organic" she says, drawing out the word organic, like just saying it might make her sick, emphasized by a very disgusted look on her face. "It's gross!" And I tell her every time that I don't think she understands what organic is. Something that is grown naturally without adding chemicals or being genetically altered is not gross- it's normal. It's how food should be.
But Halle doesn't care- organic is new on the label- she doesn't get it and she doesn't care. It's foreign so it can't be good. It takes away the comfort of her having what she is used to in favor of some unknown thing she doesn't understand. As adults- we see the childishness in this kind of thinking but we rarely notice how often we act the same way. Only not about food- about things that really matter- like people or experiences or new ways of thinking or doing things. It's foreign- we don't like it- we've never seen it done that way before. It messes with our tradition and therefore it messes with us.
I think God is doing a new thing in the church and many people aren't going to like it. He is moving us out of religious duty into intimate relationship- it's a good thing. But we like our duties. We like thinking our 40 day fast can summon the presence of God- it is empowering to think we have that kind of control. But He is shaking our paradigms. He will shake everything away that is based on our works or our goodness. The Cross happened for a reason- because our works and our goodness could never be enough. Our righteousness is like filthy rags- yes, even you 40 day fasters- you are wearing rags if you are not clothed with His righteousness. And the life He wants is something many of us have never seen before- living daily in His presence -unconcerned with what others feel should be our Christian duty because we live to please only Him, to obey Him daily. No formulas, no guaranteed outcomes (I can hear the outcry already)...just daily trusting that no matter what happens- He is enough.
And we balk at this because we lose control- it becomes all about Him and not about us- because like Halle, we just don't get it- not yet anyway. We don't get that this is a much better thing He is offering us. Just ask Him about this shift. Don't take my word on it- ask Him what He wants to do and what it looks like for your life (He's very personal that way- remember- no formulas)
One day, Halle will understand organic is a good thing and will be glad it was something she was offered. We will be the same with Him and His glorious offer to do a new thing.

ill-advised

I went in for an ultra sound the other day and was talking to the tech about all the advances in medicine. He was telling me that soon a doctor in London will be doing robotic surgeries on people in the US or vice-versa. When Kenzie and Regan were little- like 3- Kenzie whispered something into Regan's ear and the response we heard was "I don't think that's a berry dood idea, Tenzie". This was my precise thought as I envisioned lying unconscious on a table, sliced open by a machine operated by someone thousands of miles away...I don't think that's a berry dood idea.
There is a fine line between something being technological advancement and just plain ill-advised. And how do you know when you are the person stuck in the dark ages or the voice of wisdom? I don't know. Sometimes I think we have all this knowledge with very little wisdom but we are compelled to move forward. To try and fail. It's not just the American way- it's the human spirit. God has put in us the desire to create and grow and learn. But sometimes we get a little too big for our britches. (reference the Tower of Babel) We cross the line from creating to control and manipulation- never God's intent. Probably not ours either when we start out, but somewhere we cross the line. We want to end sickness and suffering and death but we can't. We never will. Only a Savior can do these things and we try hard to be our own- but we fall miserably short every time. So do we quit trying? Where is the line between creating and control? Dedication and striving? I don't know- I do know this life is tricky business without laying it all at His feet, letting Him examine the motives of our heart- and it is flat-out impossible without the Only One who can truly save, heal, and deliver.

Backward

Last night marked the kickoff of high school football. Since my son is a freshman- this is a new experience for me. We started at 4 with a pep rally followed by a team meal- then everyone was transported to the field for a 7:30 game that lasted until 10:45. This was a varsity game but the JV team was required to dress out and attend with a few promised some playing time- my son being one of those. He did not get any, not even one minute on the field.

We drove him and one of his friends home and as we discussed the night's game talk inevitably turned to last year's season. Aahh- middle school football, the glory days for Brandt and Sam- the fastest 2 on the team, coaches favorites, teammates heroes...They relived moments and glories until they finally both said-"I wish I could go back! If they would let me I would go back now and show those kids how to play and run the ball!"

Have you ever heard of high schoolers wanting to go back to middle school? High school is a promotion- you're moving forward, growing up. But these boys are longing to go backward. Not that I can blame them on this one. Sitting in the stands for 4 hours and watching kids play you don't even know is not a lot of fun to me, especially compared to watching my MVP in on every play last year. Why does a promotion feel so much like they're going backward?

The Israelites felt the same way when they left Egypt and were promoted to the desert. They left slavery to be free people but then God took them to the desert! What was He thinking? They could have loved and served Him so much better from the Promised Land- but He drags them into the desert without even as much food and water as they had in Egypt. And they tell Him- they are not happy about it- they even decide at some point they want to go back to Egypt!

Brandt and Sam are great athletes and great football players- they will play again regularly. But this season they are learning. No matter how much they want to be- they are not Varsity players yet, not fully. But they can't go back. In their case- they physically cannot go back to being younger. But if they could- they still couldn't- not if they ever wanted to get better than an 8th grade player. They have to be around players that are better than them- they have to learn some new things, become more seasoned- then when it's their turn for Varsity- they will be ready.

We all enter seasons where we feel like God has dropped us into some hole and want to go back to where we were. We think we could do such great things if He would just put us in the game!But sometimes this is part of the process. We need time to learn, to grow, to become more seasoned in His Word and His Presence. Sometimes we have been through a trying season and we just need to rest and let Him strengthen us physically, mentally, or emotionally. Whatever the reason-we need to let God have His way and if we do, I promise we won't spend 40 years in the hole like the Israelites in the desert!

What's happening?

I have noticed a common lament among the people I know- I don't understand what God is doing! So many things are happening in the lives of people that don't seem to make any sense and it is hard to see how God is working when just getting through the day seems overwhelming. We so want to understand and we think if He would just tell us what He is doing or when the breakthrough is coming- then we could hang on, then we could have faith. John 2 verse 22 completely disproves this theory.
Jesus has just turned water to wine and now He's told everyone He can rebuild the temple in 3 days. Wow. This inevitably brings some questions. But the verse after these is what is so interesting. It says after He was raised from the dead , the disciples remembered what He had said- "THEN they believed the Scripture and the words Jesus had spoken." (emphasis mine)
He told them right then and there what He was planning to do but they couldn't comprehend what He was telling them. They didn't get it until he went to the Cross and rose from the dead. I would venture to say that until we go through the death- of whatever it may be we have to die to...our expectations, our ambitions, our desires...we are unable to understand what He is doing. We usually have too much of our own stuff in the way to see where God is going with his stuff. But when we look back we see, THEN we believe.
I think this is beautifully illustrated when Moses asked to see God's glory. You know the story- God passes by and Moses can't see God's face and live but he gets a glimpse of God's back.
We usually can't see where God is, but we can always tell where He's been! True for Moses, true for the disciples, and still true for us. We can't comprehend what His plan is in our situations but if we let Him have His way with us through the death- we will see the resurrection- we will see where He has been. And it has been with us and for us all along.

Wine

Summer is over. The lazy days are gone, replaced by the flurry of fall sports and school activities. Ironically, though, I have more time for reading and writing now that we are back in the swing of things. I have been reading the book of John lately. In the 2nd chapter, Jesus performs his first miracle- water to wine. I always wonder why this as his first? It seems so insignificant and trivial- almost like a parlor trick a magician would do, not the Messiah coming to redeem His people. So I asked Him today as I read- why this? He led me to do a little research.
In the Jewish custom, wine is used to signify the sanctity and purity of the event. It was no accident that Jesus used wine at a wedding for His first miracle considering the great significance wine plays in Jewish life. Wine is used still today in traditional Jewish weddings and the Passover Seder. The Jewish marriage is called "Kiddushin" meaning betrothal or consecration. The Kaddesh is a blessing spoken over the wine at a Passover Seder. Kaddesh means "sanctification" and comes from the Hebrew root "Qof-Dalet-Shin"meaning "holy". Holy sanctification- starting to sound less trivial, isn't it?You probably noticed the similarity between Kiddushin and Kaddesh-this shows the holy and meaningful relationship between wine and marriage to the Jewish people.
I probably don't need to connect the dots but here is one more thing He showed me as I reread the passage. He took the water jars used for ceremonial washing and told the servants to fill them with water. This is so amazing to me! Verses I have read a million times but His Word is so rich we can never exhaust all there is to learn about who He is. He sets the stage with this first miracle for all He came to do! The ceremonial washing that represented the Law and man's futile attempts at making himself clean are taken and filled with His holy sanctification that represented not only His life consecrated and laid down for our salvation but His betrothal to us as His bride. He didn't just come to save us and make us holy but to enter into a meaningful, intimate relationship with us. It wasn't just any wine- it was the BEST wine! He brings us the very best- His very self!

14

Today was my son's 14th birthday. So many things about this day point to how much he has grown. I woke up to a yard full of streamers and signs(thanks to a group of teenage girls that live down the street). I dropped him and a friend off at a water park for the day- the first birthday that involved more time with friends than with family. The gifts are even changing- hats, knives, guns- only now they're not pretend. In a month he'll be starting high school.

But I still get glimpses of the little boy that used to climb up in my lap and ask for a piece of my drink. He went to bed early last night because he wanted his birthday to get here faster. He told me the other day he could tell a kid in our neighborhood was becoming a better person because he had started wearing polos and tucking his shirts in. He saved his ticket stub from last week when we went to see Toy Story 3. He almost knocked my end table over yesterday racing through the house with the dog.

Am I desperately searching for signs of any little boy left? Yes. It is so hard to watch childhood end. It's the beginning of a new phase of his life but it's also the end of one- and it's almost like mourning the death of something. Mostly I'm excited to watch him grow and change but then there are moments I could just cry becuase I want to hold that little boy one more time. I want to look for bugs with him in the yard and race him down the hill and have him stand on the chair in the kitchen to help me make brownies. I want to trip over his matchbox cars and discuss whether a jaguar or a warrior would win in a fight.

I may not get those times again but I'm so glad I have had them. I love my girls dearly but I would not trade those little boy moments for anything in the world. And I know the years to come will hold just as many that are dear to my heart. Happy 14th birthday, buddy.

Yancy

Yancy was 2 years older than me. I was in 6th grade, he was in 8th- but I knew the first time I saw his super tan skin and white-blond surfer hair- he was the one for me. When you live in Florida- particularly in the 80's- there was no look that could beat the surfer look. Alas- we had little contact since my middle school separated 6th grade from everyone else. We were in our own separate building, quarantined from the truly interesting kids- especially the surfers. It was like pergatory- no longer in elementary school but not quite in middle school. We might catch glimpses of the older kids as we passed through the main building on our way to the cafeteria but usually they were behind closed doors locked away in class. But on this day it was as if the stars aligned and fate would have its way- Yancy was sent to the 6th grade building right as we were changing classes. I was in the hallway with my best friend, Molly, as he burst through the double doors- his hair blindingly bright in the sun. Not only was he right here but on this particular dayI had brought my camera to school. It is amazing how quickly two middle school girls can concoct a plan- mere milliseconds and we knew exactly what to do.
We followed him at a safe distance down the crowded hallway carefukl not to lose him( made easier by the hair)- he finally turned and went into a relatively empty classroom- Molly called out "Yancy!" and when he turned around I snapped his picture. Then we ran.
I will admit the last phase of this plan needed a little work- but overall it was a success. He looked like a deer in headlights in the photo but it captured his shiny white hair perfectly. So now I had a picture of him, knew where he went to school, where he lived, I even knew what his dad did for a living ( not hard since he owned the coolest surf shop in town, of course). By all appearances, Yancy and I were pretty tight. Except for one thing- I had never actually spoken to him( something I had effectively secured as permanent since the picture incident).

A lot of us approach our relationship with Christ the same way. We know who He is, who His Dad is, what He likes and dislikes, we have the Book He's written prominently displayed in our home- we can even quote some of the more famous things He's said...but we've never actually talked with Him.We may have prayed a sinner's prayer- never considering He might want more than a confession. He might really want us- not just for us to bow low and profess our unworthiness but for us to move from there into His arms- embracing His worth as our own, His love as sincere.
Mine and Yancy's relationship was short-lived- no surprise. Those imaginary ones usually are. You can't sustain something as intimate as a relationship, be it with God or a spouse or even a child- where both are not fully invested in knowing the other and being known- with all our failures and inadequacies- bringing both what we have and what we lack to the table. Fortunately with God- He is fully invested and has everything we lack.

Puzzles

It is summer and at my house that means puzzles. We spend our evenings and spare time in the afternoons putting together 1000 piece jigsaw puzzles. We do a 4th of July themed one every year and usually one or two others. Brandt and I typically do the majority of the puzzle with a little help from everyone else. For some reason, though, the puzzle we did this time had everyone participating. At one point I left my house with four teenage kids working on this puzzle- not going to the pool or playing video games or watching TV. Each one was working on a different section - one on the buildings, another on the water, someone else on the fountain, and Brandt was piecing it all together. When I got back home- the puzzle was finished. Amazing. Brandt and I can spend a couple weeks working on one- but all of our combined effort produced a finished result in a matter of days.
It reminds me a lot of how the church is supposed to work. We are all working on our section of the "puzzle". We can't always tell how our piece fits in with everything else but we work at it anyway. Fortunately God knows exactly how everything is going to fit together to create what He has in mind. And imagine if, like at my house, everyone would stop with all the distractions and focus on their "piece" how quickly we would see progress. The Bible says "The harvest is plentiful, but workers are few." He needs us to go- not to other countries necessarily- but to our grocery stores and offices and schools and PTA meetings- and see the harvest all around us of hurting, broken people that need The Answer to all their heart's deepest needs. We are important- our piece is necessary for His vision to be complete.

Father's Day

Father's Day is tomorrow. We have celebrated it early at my house because we are having to split the day up somewhat tomorrow. I was thinking about Father's day and how it is supposed to be about dads- but really for my house- it's about the kids. Brad will get a card and a meal and not much more excitement than that. But the very fact that my kids have a dad they want to celebrate is a gift in itself for our home.
Our kids absolutely rely on the fact that he is here- not just physically, but emotionally and spiritually present for them. Sure he hates heights and water and bugs and (at times my kids will say) fun...but mostly he's pretty great. We don't like to tell him too much- I mean, he already thinks he's Iron Man- if his head got any bigger- what would we do? But the truth is- I don't know what we would do without him. Sure we have to clean our own gutters since he won't climb the ladder and I've saved him from a spider on more than one occasion..but he's still our hero. He is the only person in this house that can sew on a button or iron anything or get the printer working when it stops. He's also the only person that knows these kids as well as I do- that shares every memory of their lives with me- that remembers the tree frog jumping on Kenzie's head, Brandt's ER visit the day after Christmas, and Halle's love of the Wiggles. Who else would find recalling all their childhood stories as funny and interesting as I do? Only Brad. As I write he is taking a picture of Halle asleep on the couch. Do you know how many pictures of this child sleeping we already have? But he, like I, finds it perfectly logical to take another because we don't have a picture of her sleeping in this EXACT position wearing these same clothes, do we? Because he is a Father. I know there was a time he wonderd if he would ever be a good one, if he could ever be good enough for our kids- but I am here to tell you ( and most of the time our kids would agree) he is the best dad we have ever known.
So am I giving him all the credit for our home? Umm no- because, of course, it all comes back to my incredible ability to pick a man!

Suffering

"God's love cannot force, constrain, push, or pull. It offers the freedom to reject that love or to love in return. It is precisely the immensity of the divine love that is the source of the divine suffering. God, creator of heavens and earth, has chosen to be, first and foremost, a Father."
-Henri Nouwen

Can I really add anything to that? Nothing but what I have witnessed with my own children, and even that pales in comparison. It is but a shadow, but it's all I've got!
It's amazing when your kids are young how they love you. You can be horribly grouchy to a 3 year old and within seconds they will be back in your arms like nothing happened. Such forgiveness and grace in their innocence. They love you in such a way that makes you want to be worthy of such love and devotion. So you set out to become a better person for their sake. You change and you grow (hopefully) over the years..and so do they.
Then you have a teenager. Gone is the grace and forgiveness! Now after years of taking care of these kids you know the depth of your own love- you knew depth of emotion before when they were young- but now that love has been tested and tried and refined- it has a strength you never knew when they were babies. And the immensity of this love is turned into suffering as they reject your love, your guidance, your affection. Not every day or every moment but with a frequency that breaks your heart. You know somewhere inside they still love you only not as much as they love themself.
Am I giving teenagers a bad rap? Lumping them all in as a bad lot? No- they have many moments when they are absolutely amazing. And I adore the teenagers in my home but that is the crux of it. You absolutely adore these children who will thrill your heart one minute and break it the next. Here is where as parents we are most like our God and most like our children. Trying to love well these that He has given us- we are like Him in His love and His heartbreak. But in the same instant we are the wayward children who delight Him and cause His suffering. Deep inside we love Him, but more often than we care to admit- not as much as we love ourselves. How much sorrow have I brought His heart as I have rejected His love and affection and guidance? I pray my heart will forever be turned to Him- but I rest in knowing that when I inevitably turn to my own way- His love will outlast my hardheadedness!