Compared to DFW or even Love Field, the Birmingham, Alabama Airport isn't very big, but to me the corridor seemed awfully long as I headed toward the exit to the baggage claim area. Nearing the escalator I heard someone call my name. Looking around, I expected to see my brother Nat or sister-in-law Angel; so it took me a moment to register a familiar but unexpected face. Marty Hoven, family friend, gave me a big hug and said he was there to get me to the hospital. He asked if I had any bags and when I said yes he looked concerned and said "I hope it's not very big cause I'm in a two-seater." I was more worried about whether or not my bag would be on the plane since I had changed flights.
We got to the claim area and checked to see if any unclaimed bags were left from the previous flight. No, but that was good because it meant they had likely been put on the next flight to Birmingham, which should be this one. So we waited. Again, I did not, could not, wait patiently. To make matters worse, my phone was dead and I couldn't call Angie. I was glad Marty was so calm because I was on the verge of panic. After what seemed like forever, but was surely no more than fifteen minutes or so the luggage from flight 984 began sliding through the curtain. I watched anxiously as the bags slid by me. Marty waited anxiously to see how big a bag I had. It seemed everyone else in the claim area had gotten their bag when mine finally came through the line. I hauled it off the belt and we headed out, Marty sizing it up as we walked. We stepped out of the airport into a sky heavy with dark clouds and air thick with humidity. After getting off on the wrong level the first time, we finally made it to Marty's little red Mazda Miata. His concern was well-placed, but just as everything else in my life falls into place when I place my trust in Jesus, my bag fit into the trunk like a glove.
As I settled into the car, I looked at my watch for what must have been the millionth time that day. It was about 4:30. It had been six hours since Hunter had gone into surgery to remove the tumor from his brain. Would I make it there before he woke up? It was raining steadily as we exited the parking deck and headed out to the freeway. Being in a small car, in five o'clock traffic in the rain, I was glad Marty was a cautious driver. As badly as I wanted to reach the hospital quickly, I still had enough presence of mind to know it was more important to get there safely. We chatted some, but I mostly looked out at the gray, gloomy weather. "Thank you Lord for getting me here. Thank you for Marty and his little red car. Get us to the hospital safely Father and help me to stay calm. I trust you Jesus, but please, no more delays!"
Finally we reached Children's hospital. As we took the crosswalk from the parking deck I tried to remember the last time I had been there. It must have been when Lissa had her tonsils out. After thirteen years I knew a lot of things had changed, but it all seemed strangely familiar. We got to the the waiting area where Marty had left Angie and Tommy, but it was locked. Just as he was trying to call them, Tommy's niece Brittany showed up to lead us through the maze of hallways to the surgical waiting area. I cannot describe how relieved I was to finally see my daughter. I didn't even put down my bags, I just hugged her. Not too long, because neither of us wanted to start crying, but long enough. I looked around at all the many faces of family and friends. So many people there to support Hunter and Angie and Tommy. So much love. So much faith. Faith in each other, faith in the doctors and medical staff, faith in the hospital. Mostly though, in the face of so much uncertainty, faith in a God of awesome power and incomprehensible mercy. Alone, we can never love enough, believe enough, be strong enough, be skilled enough, or care enough. But when we put our faith in a God like this, whose love and faithfulness and power and wisdom and compassion and grace are so much more than we can comprehend, it will always be enough to see us through. We trust you Jesus to always be with us wherever we are, so we are always in your presence, right where we are supposed to be.
Monday, September 6, 2010
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Waiting on God, Part 2 - on the plane
After two hours of sitting we finally started boarding flight 984 to Birmingham. I was in the last group to get on the plane and I heard the flight attendant tell a passenger ahead of me, "We're almost at capacity so I suggest you take the first empty seat you see." I followed her suggestion and chose a middle seat on the second row to my right thinking, as I stuffed my tote in the overhead compartment, I should be able to get off the plane faster. My "neighbors" didn't seem too interested in chatting but that was okay. I knew if I had to talk about my reason for traveling I would get emotional. I looked at my watch, 1:30, Hunter had been in surgery for three hours. Angie said they would text her updates every so often, so I called her before turning my phone off.
"Any word yet?" "They've started the procedure and they're through the scalp but haven't cut through the skull yet." How could we be talking about my grandson? My daughter echoed my thoughts almost exactly, " I can't believe my child is having brain surgery. He's the one who is supposed to be performing brain surgery one day." Silence. Then, "But they said he's doing fine." I was trying hard to control my voice, "We're on the plane and we should be taking off any minute. I'll be arriving at the airport at 3:10." "Okay, I'll get someone to pick you up." I swallowed, "I'll be praying and I should be there before he's out of surgery. I love you." "I know and I love you too."
As I turned off my phone I took a deep breath and prayed for Hunter, for the doctors and surgical staff, for Angie, Tommy and everyone else waiting with them. Then I settled in as the plane started to taxi away from the gate. I got my book out - Three Cups of Tea - and tried to focus on reading. The plane came to a stop, engines whirring, waiting for takeoff. But we didn't take off. Instead, the Captain's voice over the speaker announced that takeoff would be delayed 20-30 minutes because of weather. Up and down the plane, people were looking out at an almost cloudless blue sky and the waves of triple digit Texas heat rising from the tarmac. "There are pockets of severe thunderstorms over Mississippi and they're causing other flights to be redirected so the airways are not clear. We have to wait for a route to open up and that could take a half an hour. We will take off as soon as we get the okay. Until then we'll shut one of the engines down to reserve fuel. We apologize for the inconvenience."
"Inconvenience?" Not even close. Try "insane, gut-wrenching frustration." "Lord Jesus, what is going on here?" I looked at my watch. At this rate we wouldn't be there before 3:30 at the earliest, then it would be at least another half hour to the hospital from the airport, depending on who picked me up. "Oh God, I promised Hunter I would be there when he wakes up. I know that sounds like such a little thing, but it gives me something to cling to. Please don't take that away from me." I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes again. I leaned down and dug a tissue out of my purse. I dabbed my face and wiped my nose as the man to my right calmly looked over, smiled and shrugged, "It's always something isn't it?" I did my best to return his smile and shrug, nodding in agreement. The woman to my left seemed a little annoyed but didn't say anything.
I'm not claustrophobic but I suddenly felt like the plane was closing in around me. I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths, and found myself reciting the Pilgrim's prayer we learn through Via de Cristo: "Come Holy Spirit, fill the hearts of your faithful and kindle in us the fire of your love." It's meant to be said in unison, but it was working for me. "Send forth your Spirit and we shall be created, and you shall renew the face of the earth." I could feel all the other people who were praying for Hunter and for me. "Oh God, who by the light of the Holy Spirit, instructs the hearts of the faithful," I trust you Jesus, that I am where you want me to be. "grant that by that same Holy Spirit I may be truly wise and ever rejoice in his consolations. Through Christ our Lord, Amen." Amen. Thank you Jesus for the gift of prayer, for the gift of your Holy Spirit, for the gift of your ever-sufficient grace.
I wish I could say I waited peacefully and patiently for the next twenty minutes or so until the plane took off, but I didn't. I texted Angie to let her know we were running late, not wanting to risk hearing her voice again. I still looked at my watch every few minutes and had to keep wiping tears away occasionally. I kept up my "I trust you Jesus" prayer litany until finally we were in the air. I still looked at my watch frequently, but I was able to read for a little while. Then, as we got closer I was thinking more and more of Hunter and of Angie. Knowing she couldn't reach me for an hour and a half made me anxious. For the first time I understood why some people become so addicted to electronic communication devices. In crisis they become our lifeline.
We landed in Birmingham at about 3:30. As I waited impatiently to get off the plane, they announced that anyone continuing to Nashville should stay seated until the rest of the passengers deplaned. The man to my right stretched and smiled again, not moving. He asked me, "So, where are you headed?" I started gathering my things, "Here, Birmingham, and you?" Still not moving, "Nashville. Do you have family here in Birmingham?" People were filing up from the back of the plane, already lined up to the door which was still closed. Why was he just sitting there, chatting amiably? I tried to keep my voice calm, but I could feel my composure melting, "My grandson is in surgery to remove a brain tumor right now at Children's Hospital." His expression changed as he suddenly recognized my distress, "I'm sorry to hear that, and I hope everything will be okay." I was losing it again as I said to myself as much as to him, "I just have to get there before he wakes up." As I looked at the line of people anxiously, he stood up and stepped out into the aisle, creating a space. I mumbled my thanks as I squeezed into the aisle. I reached into the overhead bin for my tote, but there were other items in the way. I started pulling them out and handing them down to the people in the seats around me. I had just reached my tote and was about to pull it down and head toward the now open exit when I heard the lady against the window in the front row say something about a walking stick.
Until then I had been removing items because they were standing between me and a hasty exit. But I remembered seeing this physically challenged lady in the airport. I could see the stick, but there were bags in the way. So as people were filing past me to get out the door, I kept pulling the bags out and passing them down. I reached her stick, stepped down and handed it to her. She thanked me and smiled. I smiled back, "You're welcome." I turned back toward the door where the flight attendant was smiling too, "That was nice of you." I smiled back, "Thanks." As I walked down the ramp, I knew that small act of kindness was more for me than for anyone else. I needed that moment of "doing." A window God opened for me, however brief, in the middle of my struggle to focus on someone else's need. He knows my heart better than I know it myself. In the midst of all the prayers I had been bombarding him with all day, he had answered one I didn't even know I was crying out for. That is a God I can trust. Now if he can only arrange for my suitcase to be at baggage claim...
"Any word yet?" "They've started the procedure and they're through the scalp but haven't cut through the skull yet." How could we be talking about my grandson? My daughter echoed my thoughts almost exactly, " I can't believe my child is having brain surgery. He's the one who is supposed to be performing brain surgery one day." Silence. Then, "But they said he's doing fine." I was trying hard to control my voice, "We're on the plane and we should be taking off any minute. I'll be arriving at the airport at 3:10." "Okay, I'll get someone to pick you up." I swallowed, "I'll be praying and I should be there before he's out of surgery. I love you." "I know and I love you too."
As I turned off my phone I took a deep breath and prayed for Hunter, for the doctors and surgical staff, for Angie, Tommy and everyone else waiting with them. Then I settled in as the plane started to taxi away from the gate. I got my book out - Three Cups of Tea - and tried to focus on reading. The plane came to a stop, engines whirring, waiting for takeoff. But we didn't take off. Instead, the Captain's voice over the speaker announced that takeoff would be delayed 20-30 minutes because of weather. Up and down the plane, people were looking out at an almost cloudless blue sky and the waves of triple digit Texas heat rising from the tarmac. "There are pockets of severe thunderstorms over Mississippi and they're causing other flights to be redirected so the airways are not clear. We have to wait for a route to open up and that could take a half an hour. We will take off as soon as we get the okay. Until then we'll shut one of the engines down to reserve fuel. We apologize for the inconvenience."
"Inconvenience?" Not even close. Try "insane, gut-wrenching frustration." "Lord Jesus, what is going on here?" I looked at my watch. At this rate we wouldn't be there before 3:30 at the earliest, then it would be at least another half hour to the hospital from the airport, depending on who picked me up. "Oh God, I promised Hunter I would be there when he wakes up. I know that sounds like such a little thing, but it gives me something to cling to. Please don't take that away from me." I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes again. I leaned down and dug a tissue out of my purse. I dabbed my face and wiped my nose as the man to my right calmly looked over, smiled and shrugged, "It's always something isn't it?" I did my best to return his smile and shrug, nodding in agreement. The woman to my left seemed a little annoyed but didn't say anything.
I'm not claustrophobic but I suddenly felt like the plane was closing in around me. I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths, and found myself reciting the Pilgrim's prayer we learn through Via de Cristo: "Come Holy Spirit, fill the hearts of your faithful and kindle in us the fire of your love." It's meant to be said in unison, but it was working for me. "Send forth your Spirit and we shall be created, and you shall renew the face of the earth." I could feel all the other people who were praying for Hunter and for me. "Oh God, who by the light of the Holy Spirit, instructs the hearts of the faithful," I trust you Jesus, that I am where you want me to be. "grant that by that same Holy Spirit I may be truly wise and ever rejoice in his consolations. Through Christ our Lord, Amen." Amen. Thank you Jesus for the gift of prayer, for the gift of your Holy Spirit, for the gift of your ever-sufficient grace.
I wish I could say I waited peacefully and patiently for the next twenty minutes or so until the plane took off, but I didn't. I texted Angie to let her know we were running late, not wanting to risk hearing her voice again. I still looked at my watch every few minutes and had to keep wiping tears away occasionally. I kept up my "I trust you Jesus" prayer litany until finally we were in the air. I still looked at my watch frequently, but I was able to read for a little while. Then, as we got closer I was thinking more and more of Hunter and of Angie. Knowing she couldn't reach me for an hour and a half made me anxious. For the first time I understood why some people become so addicted to electronic communication devices. In crisis they become our lifeline.
We landed in Birmingham at about 3:30. As I waited impatiently to get off the plane, they announced that anyone continuing to Nashville should stay seated until the rest of the passengers deplaned. The man to my right stretched and smiled again, not moving. He asked me, "So, where are you headed?" I started gathering my things, "Here, Birmingham, and you?" Still not moving, "Nashville. Do you have family here in Birmingham?" People were filing up from the back of the plane, already lined up to the door which was still closed. Why was he just sitting there, chatting amiably? I tried to keep my voice calm, but I could feel my composure melting, "My grandson is in surgery to remove a brain tumor right now at Children's Hospital." His expression changed as he suddenly recognized my distress, "I'm sorry to hear that, and I hope everything will be okay." I was losing it again as I said to myself as much as to him, "I just have to get there before he wakes up." As I looked at the line of people anxiously, he stood up and stepped out into the aisle, creating a space. I mumbled my thanks as I squeezed into the aisle. I reached into the overhead bin for my tote, but there were other items in the way. I started pulling them out and handing them down to the people in the seats around me. I had just reached my tote and was about to pull it down and head toward the now open exit when I heard the lady against the window in the front row say something about a walking stick.
Until then I had been removing items because they were standing between me and a hasty exit. But I remembered seeing this physically challenged lady in the airport. I could see the stick, but there were bags in the way. So as people were filing past me to get out the door, I kept pulling the bags out and passing them down. I reached her stick, stepped down and handed it to her. She thanked me and smiled. I smiled back, "You're welcome." I turned back toward the door where the flight attendant was smiling too, "That was nice of you." I smiled back, "Thanks." As I walked down the ramp, I knew that small act of kindness was more for me than for anyone else. I needed that moment of "doing." A window God opened for me, however brief, in the middle of my struggle to focus on someone else's need. He knows my heart better than I know it myself. In the midst of all the prayers I had been bombarding him with all day, he had answered one I didn't even know I was crying out for. That is a God I can trust. Now if he can only arrange for my suitcase to be at baggage claim...
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Waiting on God, Part 1- at the Airport
My last post was about an amazing, emotion-filled weekend at Via de Cristo, where I was a Food Cha and was running around "doing" the whole time. Well, this weekend was another amazing and emotion-filled weekend, but this time it was spent mostly at Children's Hospital in Birmingham, Alabama, where I could only sit with family and friends, waiting and praying and "being." Doctors had discovered Tuesday afternoon (8/17/10) that our 10 year old grandson Hunter had a large mass at the base of his brain and Angie (our daughter) called Wednesday morning to say they were prepping him for surgery. We thought they were going to do the surgery later in the week, so I began scrambling to get a plane ticket on the earliest flight I thought I could make. Jerry would drive out with our other daughter, Melissa, on Thursday.
I couldn't believe my grandson was going into surgery on his brain and I wasn't there to see him and tell him how much I love him. I told Angie, "Tell him I'll be there when he wakes up." We were told the surgery would take between 5 and 7 hours. I hastily packed a bag and called a friend who graciously agreed to get me to the airport. I was so nervous and anxious, it was an enormous relief not to have to drive too! We got to Love Field in Dallas, but my heart sank when I saw the baggage check lines. Why hadn't I just packed a carry-on and let Jerry bring the rest of my things? Too late to worry about that now. I was here, and if I was meant to be on that plane God would make it happen. So I waited and I prayed. I wanted to be on that plane with every fiber of my being, but as the minutes passed I knew it wasn't going to happen. But I kept praying. "Lord, I know you can make it happen. I know the flight can be delayed. I trust you. If I'm meant to be on that plane, it will be there when I get through the security check." Oh yeah, and I cried. Especially when I got a text from Angie, "Hunter told the nurse he wishes you were here." Biting my lip until it was sore, big, helpless, silent tears slid down my face. "I trust you Jesus, I put all my faith in you. Please get me on that plane. Please be with Hunter and his Mom and Dad. It's in your hands Lord, it's in your hands. Lord I want to be on that plane." Finally I was through the line, "Where is Gate 8?" To the right, but it's too far. I'm nervously and as quickly as possible, making my way through the airport crowd. "I trust you Jesus." I see it. I also see that nobody is at the desk and only a couple of people are sitting in the section. The plane, I look for the plane. It's not there. I'm trying to hold it together and I look around for someone to confirm what I already know. I missed the plane. I asked the desk attendant at Gate 9. Yes, it left about 15 minutes ago. I'm still trying to hold it together as I turn to walk away, "Okay Lord, I'm here and now I really need your help. I have to get on a plane." The attendant says "There will be someone back at Gate 8 soon because they have another flight leaving. Where did you say you were going?" I turned back, swallowed hard and took a deep breath, "I have to get to Birmingham, when is the next flight?" I'm sure I looked as desperate and upset as I felt. She looked up the flight, "There's another flight leaving from Gate 8 at 1:30." Two and half hours! How was I going to sit there for that long, knowing Hunter would be in surgery and I wasn't there with Angie and Tommy. "But it's a non-stop so it will land at 3:10." My other flight had had a connection and wasn't due to land until 2:45. "Can you get me on that flight?" She checked, yes there were seats available. "I can't but as soon as the attendant comes back to Gate 8 they should be able to transfer your ticket for you."
Two and a half hours to wait. What would I do for two hours? Plenty. I prayed, asking Christ for peace to wait and breath and be. I texted Angie, I wrote in my journal, I checked and updated my FB, I sent out an email update on Hunter to my prayer warrior friends, I read some of my book, and I took care of some personal business on my smart phone, thinking to myself, "Maybe over the next few days I'll learn how to use this thing a little better." As I sat there, just as I have so many times in my life, I thought about God's grace and his plans for me. "Okay God, I know I have been running like crazy for the last few hours. I get it now. You want me to stop running and turn to you, to give you my undivided attention, to stop doing and just be in your presence. Here I am, Lord. Send me, don't send me. Whatever you do with me, hold me close, and keep Hunter and all of us who love him in your arms. I trust you Jesus."
I couldn't believe my grandson was going into surgery on his brain and I wasn't there to see him and tell him how much I love him. I told Angie, "Tell him I'll be there when he wakes up." We were told the surgery would take between 5 and 7 hours. I hastily packed a bag and called a friend who graciously agreed to get me to the airport. I was so nervous and anxious, it was an enormous relief not to have to drive too! We got to Love Field in Dallas, but my heart sank when I saw the baggage check lines. Why hadn't I just packed a carry-on and let Jerry bring the rest of my things? Too late to worry about that now. I was here, and if I was meant to be on that plane God would make it happen. So I waited and I prayed. I wanted to be on that plane with every fiber of my being, but as the minutes passed I knew it wasn't going to happen. But I kept praying. "Lord, I know you can make it happen. I know the flight can be delayed. I trust you. If I'm meant to be on that plane, it will be there when I get through the security check." Oh yeah, and I cried. Especially when I got a text from Angie, "Hunter told the nurse he wishes you were here." Biting my lip until it was sore, big, helpless, silent tears slid down my face. "I trust you Jesus, I put all my faith in you. Please get me on that plane. Please be with Hunter and his Mom and Dad. It's in your hands Lord, it's in your hands. Lord I want to be on that plane." Finally I was through the line, "Where is Gate 8?" To the right, but it's too far. I'm nervously and as quickly as possible, making my way through the airport crowd. "I trust you Jesus." I see it. I also see that nobody is at the desk and only a couple of people are sitting in the section. The plane, I look for the plane. It's not there. I'm trying to hold it together and I look around for someone to confirm what I already know. I missed the plane. I asked the desk attendant at Gate 9. Yes, it left about 15 minutes ago. I'm still trying to hold it together as I turn to walk away, "Okay Lord, I'm here and now I really need your help. I have to get on a plane." The attendant says "There will be someone back at Gate 8 soon because they have another flight leaving. Where did you say you were going?" I turned back, swallowed hard and took a deep breath, "I have to get to Birmingham, when is the next flight?" I'm sure I looked as desperate and upset as I felt. She looked up the flight, "There's another flight leaving from Gate 8 at 1:30." Two and half hours! How was I going to sit there for that long, knowing Hunter would be in surgery and I wasn't there with Angie and Tommy. "But it's a non-stop so it will land at 3:10." My other flight had had a connection and wasn't due to land until 2:45. "Can you get me on that flight?" She checked, yes there were seats available. "I can't but as soon as the attendant comes back to Gate 8 they should be able to transfer your ticket for you."
Two and a half hours to wait. What would I do for two hours? Plenty. I prayed, asking Christ for peace to wait and breath and be. I texted Angie, I wrote in my journal, I checked and updated my FB, I sent out an email update on Hunter to my prayer warrior friends, I read some of my book, and I took care of some personal business on my smart phone, thinking to myself, "Maybe over the next few days I'll learn how to use this thing a little better." As I sat there, just as I have so many times in my life, I thought about God's grace and his plans for me. "Okay God, I know I have been running like crazy for the last few hours. I get it now. You want me to stop running and turn to you, to give you my undivided attention, to stop doing and just be in your presence. Here I am, Lord. Send me, don't send me. Whatever you do with me, hold me close, and keep Hunter and all of us who love him in your arms. I trust you Jesus."
Monday, August 9, 2010
A Stitch in Time
I returned home last night from being a staff person on a Via de Cristo weekend. It's a 3-day spiritual renewal or awakening of a life in Christ. Jerry and I were participants on Weekend 70 in 2006. You can only be a participant once, and it is an amazing journey! The cool thing is that coming back and staffing on weekends is just as amazing. The dynamics and the chemistry between the staff and participants is always different. It's always so exciting to see how God will take all of these lives and weave them together into something beautiful in just three days.
In just three days, someone who felt lost and alone in their pain has found healing and a family in Christ. In just three days, someone who was blind to the love around them and inside of them is now able to see it, embrace it and share it. In just three days, someone who thought they had all the answers, understands that having all the answers means you're just not asking the right questions. In just three days. It really shouldn't be surprising that so much can be accomplished in 72 hours. After all, Jesus overcame death in three days. He spent his time on earth creating a precious tapestry with his ministry of love. When he allowed himself to be crucified, that tapestry was strained and stretched under the burden of grief, fear and despair, but it was not destroyed. Indeed, in three days, it was completed, every thread perfectly placed to reveal the glory of God's design. A design that includes every one of his children. A harmony of color and gift and strength.
One of the last things the participants are asked to do on a weekend is to choose one song from all the many praises we sing, to be "their song." When this group was asked, they immediately came up with three completely different songs: Open My Eyes Lord, This is the Air I Breath, and Here I Am Lord. Given the time constraints, this posed a problem, or so it seemed. Working with the musicians, they were able to agree on a melody incorporating some of each song and it was beautiful. The seemingly odd pieces fell together perfectly, just like the participants and staff. Christ wove them together like a tapestry, his Word and his grace uniting them into a strong and beautiful harmony of hearts, minds and spirits. We were all very blessed by their choice of songs, by getting to know them and by sharing this wonderful weekend with them all.
Open my eyes, Lord
I want to see Jesus.
To reach out and touch him
To show him I love him
Open my ears, Lord
And help me to listen
Open my eyes, Lord
I want to see Jesus
******************
this is the air I breathe
this is the air I breathe
Your holy presence living in me
this is my daily bread
this is my daily bread
Your very word spoken to me
And I, I'm desperate for you
And I, I'm I'm lost without you
************************
Here I am, Lord. Is it I, Lord?
I have heard you calling in the night.
I will go, Lord, if you lead me.
I will hold your people in my heart.
Lord I lift up my new brothers and sisters in Christ. I pray that your love will continue to strengthen them and that they will always remember that your grace is enough, even when we are not. I pray that they will continue to find refuge in the real world that only you can bring to us, and in the knowledge that, just as we are incomplete without God, you also are incomplete without us. I pray also for this Via de Cristo movement and all those who are part of it, that we too will remember the call of our Baptism. In Christ's Holy Name, Amen.
In just three days, someone who felt lost and alone in their pain has found healing and a family in Christ. In just three days, someone who was blind to the love around them and inside of them is now able to see it, embrace it and share it. In just three days, someone who thought they had all the answers, understands that having all the answers means you're just not asking the right questions. In just three days. It really shouldn't be surprising that so much can be accomplished in 72 hours. After all, Jesus overcame death in three days. He spent his time on earth creating a precious tapestry with his ministry of love. When he allowed himself to be crucified, that tapestry was strained and stretched under the burden of grief, fear and despair, but it was not destroyed. Indeed, in three days, it was completed, every thread perfectly placed to reveal the glory of God's design. A design that includes every one of his children. A harmony of color and gift and strength.
One of the last things the participants are asked to do on a weekend is to choose one song from all the many praises we sing, to be "their song." When this group was asked, they immediately came up with three completely different songs: Open My Eyes Lord, This is the Air I Breath, and Here I Am Lord. Given the time constraints, this posed a problem, or so it seemed. Working with the musicians, they were able to agree on a melody incorporating some of each song and it was beautiful. The seemingly odd pieces fell together perfectly, just like the participants and staff. Christ wove them together like a tapestry, his Word and his grace uniting them into a strong and beautiful harmony of hearts, minds and spirits. We were all very blessed by their choice of songs, by getting to know them and by sharing this wonderful weekend with them all.
Open my eyes, Lord
I want to see Jesus.
To reach out and touch him
To show him I love him
Open my ears, Lord
And help me to listen
Open my eyes, Lord
I want to see Jesus
******************
this is the air I breathe
this is the air I breathe
Your holy presence living in me
this is my daily bread
this is my daily bread
Your very word spoken to me
And I, I'm desperate for you
And I, I'm I'm lost without you
************************
Here I am, Lord. Is it I, Lord?
I have heard you calling in the night.
I will go, Lord, if you lead me.
I will hold your people in my heart.
Lord I lift up my new brothers and sisters in Christ. I pray that your love will continue to strengthen them and that they will always remember that your grace is enough, even when we are not. I pray that they will continue to find refuge in the real world that only you can bring to us, and in the knowledge that, just as we are incomplete without God, you also are incomplete without us. I pray also for this Via de Cristo movement and all those who are part of it, that we too will remember the call of our Baptism. In Christ's Holy Name, Amen.
Monday, July 26, 2010
For Hunter: Jesus loves us the most when we feel the least perfect.
"Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong. ~ 2 Corinthians 12: 8-10 (NIV)
I've been intending to continue my blog after Easter, but have never gotten "a round tuit." Today at lunch, I checked my Facebook and my daughter had shared a conversation with her 10 year old son last night. It was so sweet. It inspired me to share it and to share my response to them both.
Tonight the boys were doing their usual to get ready for bed while I was bathing Melanee. However, when I got ready to tuck the boys in for bed, Hunter was already in the bed listening to his iPod. I, of course, did my normal thing where I waltz in and fuss at him for not having already brushed his teeth and put his retainer in when I noticed his eyes looked a little glassy. I asked him what was wrong, sure I already knew the answer and ready to ready to fuss at him for having not done something he was supposed to have, I waited for him to muster his voice enough to speak (with my arms folded and a sour look on my face I am sure). When he finally made an attempt to speak, all he could do was wipe the tears off his chin. Starting to feel as though I may have jumped the gun, and something may really be wrong--after all, he was still recovering from pneumonia--I uncrossed my arms and tried to relax my face a bit. Finally, he was able to get a sentence out: "When you were still in the bathroom, Melanee came in my room and stuck her tongue out at me twice and was being really mean for no reason." My first instinct was to let him know I thought he was overreacting to his 4 year old sister, but I resisted and waited for more to follow. He looked down and more tears fell. Then he looked up at me as if he was questioning me and said it reminded him of earlier that morning on the church bus. I wondered what he could be talking about. Had Melanee done that to another child on the church bus? I was beginning to feel a little humiliated when he said he was the target of ridicule from other kids on the bus. He thought Melanee must have gotten it from them. I sat down on his bed as he shared with me the mean things they had said. He was truly hurt, and I was feeling awful for my reaction to him. I hugged him and told him not to listen to anything theyt had said because none of it was true. I tried to take all the pain away the best I could, then I made Melanee come and apologize to her brother. She made him laugh because she apologized first and when I asked her what she had done, she looked at me and asked, "Did I hit him?" We both got a kick out of that.
Kids can be cruel, even the ones that love us most. I have to be prepared to pick up the pieces a little more often and not so quick to make an even bigger mess. That feeling was even more gratified when he told me he was looking at his picture board of all the pictures and I was always smiling in them. He said I never smile anymore except every once in a while when I'm with one of my friends or if I'm smiling for a picture. I had to really think about that for a second. Of course my reply was, "That's not true, I smile all the time." He said, "Well, I never see you smile." That really broke my spirit. It humbled me to see how busy I've become and how preoccupied with everything else, that I've forgotten to have fun WITH my kids, not just making sure they are having fun. So we made a deal and I made him pinky promise that we will do whatever it takes so that we are both smiling more often!
Just thought I needed to share that with you guys, so I can have some accountability checkers on our side. Let's get smiling! I love you all!
What a precious moment to share. It made me recall similar conversations with both my daughters. Angie was much less likely to show, much less share her feelings. When she did I knew it was important. I know there were probably more times than I'll ever know when I might have missed the signs and the opportunities for those important exchanges. We all get so caught up in the daily busyness of life that we don't share or smile as often as we should. We focus on the stones in our path that make us stumble, and don't lift our eyes to appreciate all the blessings and joys God gives us every day. It's easy to get caught in that cycle of being stressed. We bring everyone around us down and we let others bring us down even further. We allow the joy to be sucked out of us and pretty soon we lose our ability to pull ourselves out of the muck and mire of negativity we're wallowing in.
I'm glad Angie had this reminder to connect and smile with her children. But I would add a reminder to this experience. Yes, by all means teach them how to connect with you, but more importantly, teach them how to connect with God. Teach them to take their worries and cares to Jesus and lay them down at the foot of the cross. Teach them to trust in his unconditional love, his grace and his mercy. Teach them love him and to see themselves as Jesus sees them, not as the world sees them. Imperfect but loved all the more because of their imperfections. We strive to be perfect and can never hope to achieve it. Jesus, who was perfect in every way, chose to live as one of us, to experience imperfection, pain, suffering and even death. Why? So he could be there for us in our darkest day, knowing what we feel and enabling us to rise above it. Our weakness creates in us the need for his power, the need to connect with him, the need for a relationship with him.
And Hunter, one final note: I can't carry a tune in a bucket, and for many, many years I wouldn't sing loud enough for anyone else to hear me. My brothers always made fun of me and it really impacted me. I never sang in the choir at church, and I love to sing to the Lord! I love all the old hymns like "I Love to Tell the Story," I love new, contemporary Christian songs like Amy Grant's "Better Than a Hallelujah," I love silly songs like "Jesus is the Rock and He Rolls my Blues Away, I love songs of praise and worship and songs of suffering and sacrifice like "There is a Balm in Gilead." And you know what I finally realized? Jesus doesn't care what my voice sounds like. He listens to what is in my heart, and when I open it up in song, prayer, tears or smiles, he hears a song that is perfectly beautiful music to his ears.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Hope personified
We gather in the darkness, trickling in by twos and threes with our individual offerings. The air of anticipation is palpable, like our vaporous exhalations in the cool air. We cluster around the rough, damp wood of the altar, shuffling the leaves, our hushed voices tinged with excitement. We unpack our offerings: linens to dress the altar, heirlooms of lace and embroidery. Candles of varied shapes and sizes placed and lit, scenting the air and bathing us in their soft glow. Mementos and treasures all positioned as we circle the altar and wait for the stories to unfold. This is our Small Group Easter Visitation. We come together in the darkness and cold of a secluded outdoor chapel at sunrise on the Saturday before Easter to reenact the women gathering at the tomb to prepare Jesus’ body, hurriedly placed there after his crucifixion.One by one we share our testimonies, our traditions, our faith in and a hope born of the light no darkness can overcome.
What did those women go there to find all those years ago? They had stood by helpless as their Lord was tortured to death. No doubt they heard his cry as he gave up his Spirit. They had seen the sky turn black and felt the earth shake as the curtain separating them from the holiest of holies was broken in two. What must they have felt? Their whole world was broken in two and all they could turn to were their traditions to comfort them. They would come and prepare his body. Jesus who embodied all the love they could imagine. Jesus who treated them with compassion and respect and had even gathered the children to him, calling them the kingdom of God. Jesus who healed the sick with a touch and cast out demons with a word. Jesus who spoke in parables a child could understand but confounded scribes. Jesus who forgave sins. Why, had he not even forgiven the very people who had tortured and hung him on the cross to die? How could this have happened? Why had this happened? But he had said he was going to die hadn’t he? What was it he said, that he would die and be raised again on the third day?
In Jesus day, there was not a lot a woman could do to change her circumstances in life. If she was fortunate enough to marry well to a kind and generous husband, she might live a comfortable life, but that was generally out of her hands. I like to imagine that these women, used to settling for whatever lot they received in life, had learned something about hope from Jesus. Maybe they approach the tomb where they have every reason to expect his lifeless body to be, with an air of anticipation. His suffering and death had played out exactly as he had said it would even though they had not believed his foretelling. So why shouldn’t they expect the unexpected now, here, in the predawn darkness? Of course they are frightened at first, but they are more than ready to hear that Jesus lives! Imagine the exhilaration of that first Easter morning. Excitement making the women bolt from the tomb, stumbling over themselves in their rush to tell the Disciples the amazing news. This is hope personified! Jesus Christ defeats death, even death on a cross! Christ is risen, he is risen indeed! Allelujah!
Risen Lord, you are the light of the world that no darkness can overcome. You are hope personified. You are our saving grace, love come down to dwell among us. Where do I go from here? It doesn't matter as long as I am in your presence. That way I will always be at the right place at the right time.Keep me ever close Lord, and make me useful. In Christ's Holy Name, Amen.
What did those women go there to find all those years ago? They had stood by helpless as their Lord was tortured to death. No doubt they heard his cry as he gave up his Spirit. They had seen the sky turn black and felt the earth shake as the curtain separating them from the holiest of holies was broken in two. What must they have felt? Their whole world was broken in two and all they could turn to were their traditions to comfort them. They would come and prepare his body. Jesus who embodied all the love they could imagine. Jesus who treated them with compassion and respect and had even gathered the children to him, calling them the kingdom of God. Jesus who healed the sick with a touch and cast out demons with a word. Jesus who spoke in parables a child could understand but confounded scribes. Jesus who forgave sins. Why, had he not even forgiven the very people who had tortured and hung him on the cross to die? How could this have happened? Why had this happened? But he had said he was going to die hadn’t he? What was it he said, that he would die and be raised again on the third day?
In Jesus day, there was not a lot a woman could do to change her circumstances in life. If she was fortunate enough to marry well to a kind and generous husband, she might live a comfortable life, but that was generally out of her hands. I like to imagine that these women, used to settling for whatever lot they received in life, had learned something about hope from Jesus. Maybe they approach the tomb where they have every reason to expect his lifeless body to be, with an air of anticipation. His suffering and death had played out exactly as he had said it would even though they had not believed his foretelling. So why shouldn’t they expect the unexpected now, here, in the predawn darkness? Of course they are frightened at first, but they are more than ready to hear that Jesus lives! Imagine the exhilaration of that first Easter morning. Excitement making the women bolt from the tomb, stumbling over themselves in their rush to tell the Disciples the amazing news. This is hope personified! Jesus Christ defeats death, even death on a cross! Christ is risen, he is risen indeed! Allelujah!
Risen Lord, you are the light of the world that no darkness can overcome. You are hope personified. You are our saving grace, love come down to dwell among us. Where do I go from here? It doesn't matter as long as I am in your presence. That way I will always be at the right place at the right time.Keep me ever close Lord, and make me useful. In Christ's Holy Name, Amen.
Monday, April 5, 2010
A right-side-up life in an upside-down world
The other morning I read about a minister uncomfortable with going to a foot washing service. He was okay with washing someone's feet, but having his own feet washed was way outside his comfort zone. Frankly, I imagine it's way outside most guys' comfort zones. (For an example, see Pr. Phil's blog: http://livingthelectionary.blogspot.com/2010/02/lent-1c-romans-105-15.html) Women too, while they may be okay with getting a pedicure, might be more hesitant about having their feet washed in the context of Christ washing his disciples' feet.
What is it that makes us so uncomfortable with being served by one we esteem greater than ourselves? Maybe it's because we like order in our lives, and order generally means the greatest are first and the least are, well, last. But Jesus spent his life upsetting just that kind of thinking. He was always disturbing the status quo. Love your enemies, be kind to those who do you harm, care for those who care nothing for you. Jesus was a man of contradictions. Or so it would seem. Do we presume to understand how God's plan for this universe began? What order did he establish with the creation of man and woman in the Garden of Eden except to form them from the same flesh to care for one another and all his other creations? By allowing themselves to be seduced by evil, they turned God's intended order upside down. So the order we know and that seems to make sense to us is not right. Those who know and love Jesus Christ already realize and accept that truth. But knowing and accepting a truth and living it are not the same thing.
How do we live God's truth? How do we live a right-side-up life in an upside-down world? It was impossible until God recreated his order through the flesh and blood of his Son. He sent this most perfect, upright being into the most imperfect upside-down world to teach us. Jesus, God on the inside and man on the outside walked the earth, worked, ate, drank, slept, laughed, wept, talked, mourned, celebrated, prayed, shared, taught, and did all the ordinary things we do every day. But there was one thing that Jesus did without ceasing. He loved. He loved without fear or judgment, and he loved with complete abandon and total commitment. That is the order he created, the commandment that he gave us, the example that he lived. Love the Lord our God with all our strength, with all our heart and with all our mind. Love as he has first loved us. Love one another as we have been loved. Love our neighbors, love our enemies, love the unlovable, it's all the same. There is no order beyond that, beyond love, and that is the truth that Jesus brought back into the world.
A long time ago man let go of that truth and gave himself up to doubt and sin. It took God coming into the world and taking on the body of a man to bring the truth back to us. He suffered, died and descended into the hell of doubt and darkness, taking us with him. But that doubt and darkness could never hold him, never hold the truth of God's love. Jesus, perfect lamb of God, shrugged off death like a cloak, and rose from the grave, bringing us back with him. Back to God's order, back to life and love and a world where we are meant to care for each other and all of God's creation. Jesus, God on the inside but man on the outside, turned himself inside out and became God on the outside with a heart for all mankind on the inside. That is where we find grace to live in his truth and to love as he taught us. Nobody knows and loves us like Jesus and he is the order that makes it possible to live a right-side up life in this upside-down world.
Beautiful Savior, you show us glimpses of what this world can be, of what it will be when you return and your truth will be the order that allows love to reign. There will be no more sorrow or death, only praises and rejoicing. Help us to seek your order when our world is upside-down. Fill us with your Spirit so, though we be man and woman on the outside, God lives inside us enabling us to love like you. Amen.
What is it that makes us so uncomfortable with being served by one we esteem greater than ourselves? Maybe it's because we like order in our lives, and order generally means the greatest are first and the least are, well, last. But Jesus spent his life upsetting just that kind of thinking. He was always disturbing the status quo. Love your enemies, be kind to those who do you harm, care for those who care nothing for you. Jesus was a man of contradictions. Or so it would seem. Do we presume to understand how God's plan for this universe began? What order did he establish with the creation of man and woman in the Garden of Eden except to form them from the same flesh to care for one another and all his other creations? By allowing themselves to be seduced by evil, they turned God's intended order upside down. So the order we know and that seems to make sense to us is not right. Those who know and love Jesus Christ already realize and accept that truth. But knowing and accepting a truth and living it are not the same thing.
How do we live God's truth? How do we live a right-side-up life in an upside-down world? It was impossible until God recreated his order through the flesh and blood of his Son. He sent this most perfect, upright being into the most imperfect upside-down world to teach us. Jesus, God on the inside and man on the outside walked the earth, worked, ate, drank, slept, laughed, wept, talked, mourned, celebrated, prayed, shared, taught, and did all the ordinary things we do every day. But there was one thing that Jesus did without ceasing. He loved. He loved without fear or judgment, and he loved with complete abandon and total commitment. That is the order he created, the commandment that he gave us, the example that he lived. Love the Lord our God with all our strength, with all our heart and with all our mind. Love as he has first loved us. Love one another as we have been loved. Love our neighbors, love our enemies, love the unlovable, it's all the same. There is no order beyond that, beyond love, and that is the truth that Jesus brought back into the world.
A long time ago man let go of that truth and gave himself up to doubt and sin. It took God coming into the world and taking on the body of a man to bring the truth back to us. He suffered, died and descended into the hell of doubt and darkness, taking us with him. But that doubt and darkness could never hold him, never hold the truth of God's love. Jesus, perfect lamb of God, shrugged off death like a cloak, and rose from the grave, bringing us back with him. Back to God's order, back to life and love and a world where we are meant to care for each other and all of God's creation. Jesus, God on the inside but man on the outside, turned himself inside out and became God on the outside with a heart for all mankind on the inside. That is where we find grace to live in his truth and to love as he taught us. Nobody knows and loves us like Jesus and he is the order that makes it possible to live a right-side up life in this upside-down world.
Beautiful Savior, you show us glimpses of what this world can be, of what it will be when you return and your truth will be the order that allows love to reign. There will be no more sorrow or death, only praises and rejoicing. Help us to seek your order when our world is upside-down. Fill us with your Spirit so, though we be man and woman on the outside, God lives inside us enabling us to love like you. Amen.
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