Wow. I haven't blogged in a long time. I don't know why I put it off, except that I am a procrastinator extraordinaire. A lot has been happening. Life has been happening. I've been really busy. You know the drill. But a lot of things have been calling me back to this practice lately. I say "a lot of things," but it is really one thing. One voice. The voice of the Holy Spirit. From deep inside where the Spirit listens but I don't talk and it speaks but I don't listen. Today I am listening and I am trying to use my words.
This morning Jerry and I were having a conversation about listening and using words on the short drive home from the gym. As I stated above, I'm not good at either, but I was really trying. I've been praying for God to help me be a more intentional listener, communicator and "be-er" as opposed to a "do-er." As we pulled into the garage and I turned off the ignition, I turned to him and said, "I'm here, I'm talking and I'm listening." Such a simple statement, but for me, a huge statement. I think it was what I needed to say and what he needed to hear. An answered prayer? Yes, but with God is it ever that simple?
I'm reading Brian McLaren's Finding Our Way Again: The Return of the Ancient Practices. It's very thought provoking and I'm just three chapters in. At the end of Chapter Two it poses this question: "If your relationship with God was a marriage, how would you describe things to a marriage counselor? What would a better, happier marriage look like?" I suppose I could take issue with the fact that they seem to assume my relationship needs to be better or happier, if it were not true. Unfortunately, I have to face my responsibility on both counts. I love my husband very much, but I am not a good, intentional communicator. I get antsy when the discussion is about something I can't fix or solve, or if I realize the dryer has stopped and I need to get the clothes out before they get wrinkled and...what were you saying? So what would I say would make a better, happier marriage, in reality as well as representative of my relationship with God? It is that I be a better listener, a committed listener, a focused, deliberate communicator. I have to show up, be present and listen attentively, ignoring all the stuff the world would put in the way. I'm here, I'm listening and I'm sharing my thoughts. In that order.
Thank you Holy Spirit for your never-ending inspiration and patience when I have the attention span of a gnat. Help me to stay tuned into your still small voice and control my impulse to drift in and out of awareness. Oh, and thank you for my sweet husband and I ask continued blessing on our relationship too. In Christ's Holy Name, amen.
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Still searching for significance?
I've decided I want to try and pick my journaling back up during Lent this year, but why wait for March 9th to roll around?
Last night in our First Place 4 Health group, we were talking about the Psalms and some of the verses we enjoyed were the ones that remind us to "be still" or "wait," to just be in God's presence, to know his goodness and trust in his grace. We talked about how hard that must have been for the Psalmists, but perhaps even harder for us today. We live in a world accustomed to instant gratification and instant communication, and waiting is not high on our list of things to do. For instance, when we think of searching today, what pops into mind for many of us is an Internet search. Need to find or research something? Just "Google" it. Some people seem to think the Internet can answer any question or fulfill any search. But what if you have a need that you can't easily define or put a name to? What if you just know there is something missing? How do you search for something when you don't know what that something is?
We are created with a need for relationship with our creator. We have an innate desire to know where we came from and why we exist. What makes me, my life, significant? I can't imagine how someone would go about satisfying those needs if they have no knowledge of or belief in God. I think it would be incredibly sad to have no sense of significance greater than your own ego and the world around you could provide. What would life be like if we never asked a question deeper than the Internet could answer?
In my 20's and 30's I was in a Sunday School Class called "The Searchers." What were we searching for? For me it was significance as a Christians in my world. Significance as a spouse, parent, daughter, sister, friend, church member, but mostly, significance to the one who created me. All the roles we are given are important, but the most important relationship, the one that gives our entire life real, lasting meaning and significance is the relationship we have with our Creator. We don't get that by just knowing about him or even believing in him. We get that by loving him and being loved by him. We get that by trusting completely in his will for our life. We get that by surrendering all that we are and ever hope to be to his glory. We get that by allowing his grace to pour into us, washing our sins away and using us to channel his light, his love and his significance to a world searching for wholeness.
Help us, good and gracious God, when our hearts are restless and we search for significance through our own efforts, to remember to be still and wait for you to meet our every need through your abundant grace.
Favorite Psalms on waiting for God
Last night in our First Place 4 Health group, we were talking about the Psalms and some of the verses we enjoyed were the ones that remind us to "be still" or "wait," to just be in God's presence, to know his goodness and trust in his grace. We talked about how hard that must have been for the Psalmists, but perhaps even harder for us today. We live in a world accustomed to instant gratification and instant communication, and waiting is not high on our list of things to do. For instance, when we think of searching today, what pops into mind for many of us is an Internet search. Need to find or research something? Just "Google" it. Some people seem to think the Internet can answer any question or fulfill any search. But what if you have a need that you can't easily define or put a name to? What if you just know there is something missing? How do you search for something when you don't know what that something is?
We are created with a need for relationship with our creator. We have an innate desire to know where we came from and why we exist. What makes me, my life, significant? I can't imagine how someone would go about satisfying those needs if they have no knowledge of or belief in God. I think it would be incredibly sad to have no sense of significance greater than your own ego and the world around you could provide. What would life be like if we never asked a question deeper than the Internet could answer?
In my 20's and 30's I was in a Sunday School Class called "The Searchers." What were we searching for? For me it was significance as a Christians in my world. Significance as a spouse, parent, daughter, sister, friend, church member, but mostly, significance to the one who created me. All the roles we are given are important, but the most important relationship, the one that gives our entire life real, lasting meaning and significance is the relationship we have with our Creator. We don't get that by just knowing about him or even believing in him. We get that by loving him and being loved by him. We get that by trusting completely in his will for our life. We get that by surrendering all that we are and ever hope to be to his glory. We get that by allowing his grace to pour into us, washing our sins away and using us to channel his light, his love and his significance to a world searching for wholeness.
Help us, good and gracious God, when our hearts are restless and we search for significance through our own efforts, to remember to be still and wait for you to meet our every need through your abundant grace.
Favorite Psalms on waiting for God
Friday, September 17, 2010
Waiting on God, Part 4 - surgical waiting area
I made it. I arrived while Hunter was still in surgery (7 hours!) but they were closing him up and it wasn't long before one of the surgical team came out, telling Angie and Tommy he was in recovery and responsive but would be in there for awhile. When the doctor talked to them, he felt pretty certain he had gotten all the tumor but they would do an MRI the next day to be sure. Everything had gone very well and he didn't think there had been any damage to brain tissue. What wonderful news! Of course the pathology report wouldn't be back for almost a week, but we had reason to be more than "cautiously" optimistic. Everyone was hugging each other, relief and joy written all over the faces that an hour earlier had been tight with worry. The once tired smiles of encouragement for the anxious parents were now truly shining with light and laughter.
The most critical part was over, and several of those who had been waiting with Angie and Tommy for hours left the surgical waiting area and headed home, many with a two to three hour drive ahead of them. Where there had been standing room only when I arrived, we were now able to all find seats. The tension had lessened and everyone was more relaxed. Angie and Tommy hadn't had much sleep for a couple of nights and were exhausted but happy. Angie said, "I feel like I could just close my eyes and fall asleep right here, but I can't just yet. I can't wait to see him! They said they didn't shave his head, just the area where they made the incision." "Oh that will make Hunter happy!" I laughed, "He'll still have his 'Bieber' hair." Thinking about Hunter and his preoccupation with emulating the latest teen sensation, Justin Bieber, made me smile. It was nice to suddenly be thinking about the normal concerns of a ten-year-old. Thank you Lord, for bringing us through the anxious hours of waiting in limbo, back to this new appreciation of everyday life.
After another couple of hours in the surgical waiting area, they wheeled Hunter out on their way to the Pediatric ICU (PICU). They stopped and let Angie and Tommy come see him. To my relief, they let a few of the rest of us come and see him too. He wasn't really awake but he did respond a little bit, enough to show us he knew we were there. "Hey Buddy, it's Gram. I got here before you got out of surgery and I've been waiting here with Mama and Daddy. I love you and Pop and Lissa send their love too. They'll be here tomorrow." I don't know if he heard me or if he remembers that I was there, but I am forever grateful that I was. Angie and Tommy went up in the elevator with Hunter and those of us who were staying followed after gathering up all our things. The doctor had said Hunter would be in the PICU for at least 24 hours, then they would move him back to the Neurology Department as soon as a bed was available. For now we would be camping out in the PICU waiting area. They had strict visiting hours and rules, and of course there was no privacy anywhere, but it was all for the benefit of the patients. I was very tired, but for the first time that day, I felt like I was where I belonged.
Good and gracious God, I praise your holy Name and and thank you for answering our prayers for a quick diagnosis and resolution for Hunter. Thank you for the skilled and compassionate medical staff who continue to care for our boy. Thank you for all the people who have been lifting this family up in prayer and being here to support them. Lord, you know too well the pain of watching your child suffer and I imagine it brings you great joy and satisfaction to grant healing. I also know that sometimes your answer to our prayers is not the physical healing we seek, but the strength and faith to see us through an illness, whatever the outcome. Father, I don't know what your plan is for Hunter's life, but I know you have one. I pray that we will further him along on your path to that plan, guiding him as you would have us do, and teaching him the truth of your Word. In Christ's Name, Amen.
The most critical part was over, and several of those who had been waiting with Angie and Tommy for hours left the surgical waiting area and headed home, many with a two to three hour drive ahead of them. Where there had been standing room only when I arrived, we were now able to all find seats. The tension had lessened and everyone was more relaxed. Angie and Tommy hadn't had much sleep for a couple of nights and were exhausted but happy. Angie said, "I feel like I could just close my eyes and fall asleep right here, but I can't just yet. I can't wait to see him! They said they didn't shave his head, just the area where they made the incision." "Oh that will make Hunter happy!" I laughed, "He'll still have his 'Bieber' hair." Thinking about Hunter and his preoccupation with emulating the latest teen sensation, Justin Bieber, made me smile. It was nice to suddenly be thinking about the normal concerns of a ten-year-old. Thank you Lord, for bringing us through the anxious hours of waiting in limbo, back to this new appreciation of everyday life.
After another couple of hours in the surgical waiting area, they wheeled Hunter out on their way to the Pediatric ICU (PICU). They stopped and let Angie and Tommy come see him. To my relief, they let a few of the rest of us come and see him too. He wasn't really awake but he did respond a little bit, enough to show us he knew we were there. "Hey Buddy, it's Gram. I got here before you got out of surgery and I've been waiting here with Mama and Daddy. I love you and Pop and Lissa send their love too. They'll be here tomorrow." I don't know if he heard me or if he remembers that I was there, but I am forever grateful that I was. Angie and Tommy went up in the elevator with Hunter and those of us who were staying followed after gathering up all our things. The doctor had said Hunter would be in the PICU for at least 24 hours, then they would move him back to the Neurology Department as soon as a bed was available. For now we would be camping out in the PICU waiting area. They had strict visiting hours and rules, and of course there was no privacy anywhere, but it was all for the benefit of the patients. I was very tired, but for the first time that day, I felt like I was where I belonged.
Good and gracious God, I praise your holy Name and and thank you for answering our prayers for a quick diagnosis and resolution for Hunter. Thank you for the skilled and compassionate medical staff who continue to care for our boy. Thank you for all the people who have been lifting this family up in prayer and being here to support them. Lord, you know too well the pain of watching your child suffer and I imagine it brings you great joy and satisfaction to grant healing. I also know that sometimes your answer to our prayers is not the physical healing we seek, but the strength and faith to see us through an illness, whatever the outcome. Father, I don't know what your plan is for Hunter's life, but I know you have one. I pray that we will further him along on your path to that plan, guiding him as you would have us do, and teaching him the truth of your Word. In Christ's Name, Amen.
Monday, September 6, 2010
Waiting on God, Part 3 - reaching the hospital
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.
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.
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.
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