I stand in a generation gap. I live in a generation gap. This portrait has stared at me for months now, but its recognition gives clearer image as circumstances mark the missing persons.
I am the one. Of four generations, I am the one generation that inhabits the earth.
My present life is a string with disconnected ends. My mother is in heaven, her mother too (she died when my mom was twenty-ish in a plane crash), and my daughter has yet to be. So I am in a generation gap. That is an odd, meaningless and meaningful reality.
Coming aside this cold fact, warmth harbors in my soul as I purposefully live for truth and hope. As I trace my lineage of women. As I grant them the highest of honors in my soul. As I sing them Proverbs 31 praises. And as I pull out my pieces of paper and a pen and endow my own daughter with my words and our lineage and create language of love. I sit here and unravel another Letters to my Daughter and gift her with thoughts and words and prayers and dreams to offer her, and what my hope glitters to be, like a windchime tinkling in the May breeze.
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Sunday, May 2, 2010
What Pleases The Lord.
"Live as children of the Light and find out what pleases the Lord."
Ephesians 5:9-10
As 'Children of the Light.' Wow. Heirs. Chosen. Covenanted. Claimed by him. Given an inheritance by him. Children of the Light. Bearing his name. It is His heritage then that is ours to claim and ours to live on through our children (Deuteronomy 6.) With this heritage, we are adopted and given a new last name and bear it. We walk as Light. With this knowledge and stamp impressed upon us, then it is our call and challenge to take ourselves as Light to illuminate Dark around us. Boasting proudly of what is Light: truth, righteousness, goodness, purity, joy, growth. What a lineage is that!
'And find out.' First, to discern the antonym: we are not lost, stray, wandering. No, we are letting him 'make straight our paths.' His Word promises to be a 'lamp unto our feet and light unto our path' (Proverbs 3:5-6.) So His Letter and the Holy Spirit within us guides and directs and casts light onto His Will. It is not dependent upon our ability to seek, search, or interpret. It is instead our faithfulness and obedience to His steps that continuously reveal it.
'What pleases the Lord.' This is the purpose of our days. To do what pleases the Lord. Release implications to grasp every opportunity or carpe diem or suck the marrow out of life. Rather, simplify. Pass inklings or thoughts through the simplest gauntlet of discernment: "Does this please the Lord?" and then commit to step boldly or quietly from there. Live may not be One Big Moment. It may be the simplest, small tasks that call us to be heroic (Stepping Heavenward, E. Prentiss, p. 67). But if we dedicate to living a life that pleases the Lord, then all seeking, striving, and straining can cease. For it is simply a call to be obedient and faithful to His chosen time. And in this, our days are also awarded a broad purpose, depth of meaning, and grandeur longevity.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Label It Satan.
A few weeks ago, I wrote a fierce phrase: Battling Satan for my Family. Like blocked computer pop-up screens, things pop up and flash at me. Things that catch me off guard, and and send me reeling to find and click an "x" box. Only, in real life, when it's your family, there isn't an "x" box.
I am starting to train myself to label some things "Satan." Because only he could connive such twists and turns, lies and truths, and split and divide us along the lines as such.
I was asked this weekend how I came through my "anger" stage and what that journey was like. I responded that I still am caught off guard by it and don't understand all of it. As I think about it, I see growth in me here though and know I have really trained myself to let family things bounce off a bit more, and not take all of it to heart, or let it cause havoc on my life and self for days.
But I also note telling the ladies that as they leave, I would pray for their protection. Because when God does a good work, as he did with their presence being here, Satan is always looming on the edge waiting to attack and break down what the Lord has accomplished.
Could it be that maybe I needed to pray this for myself too?
Sure enough, when Monday night rolled around and I split open the mail, a wedding shower invitation for Julie arrived -- with bridal registry cards and all. Anger spurted from me. My arms flailed as I my steps pounded down to take my exacerbating to my roommate. The reasons for my rantings were founded and justified.
But the spark of my anger and the burning of it still this morning, is not. I do not want Satan to have a hold of me like this. Only he would connive sneaking this jolting piece of mail into my pile after having such a blessed weekend. Only he would try to ruin me and set me off as such, and sit back like the Grinch at my twisted reaction.
I'm going to label it Satan. I'm going to see his work as I fight. I'm going to train myself to be aware of his lurking presence and then to arm myself to battle it. From now on, as I battle for my family, I'm going to label it Satan.
I am starting to train myself to label some things "Satan." Because only he could connive such twists and turns, lies and truths, and split and divide us along the lines as such.
I was asked this weekend how I came through my "anger" stage and what that journey was like. I responded that I still am caught off guard by it and don't understand all of it. As I think about it, I see growth in me here though and know I have really trained myself to let family things bounce off a bit more, and not take all of it to heart, or let it cause havoc on my life and self for days.
But I also note telling the ladies that as they leave, I would pray for their protection. Because when God does a good work, as he did with their presence being here, Satan is always looming on the edge waiting to attack and break down what the Lord has accomplished.
Could it be that maybe I needed to pray this for myself too?
Sure enough, when Monday night rolled around and I split open the mail, a wedding shower invitation for Julie arrived -- with bridal registry cards and all. Anger spurted from me. My arms flailed as I my steps pounded down to take my exacerbating to my roommate. The reasons for my rantings were founded and justified.
But the spark of my anger and the burning of it still this morning, is not. I do not want Satan to have a hold of me like this. Only he would connive sneaking this jolting piece of mail into my pile after having such a blessed weekend. Only he would try to ruin me and set me off as such, and sit back like the Grinch at my twisted reaction.
I'm going to label it Satan. I'm going to see his work as I fight. I'm going to train myself to be aware of his lurking presence and then to arm myself to battle it. From now on, as I battle for my family, I'm going to label it Satan.
Monday, April 26, 2010
Four Women.
I want to be like them.
Four women from Crossroads drove 14 hours on Friday to spend Saturday & Sunday with me and drive another 14 hours back on Monday. Four women, from my community group, with relationships to me that combine teacher, mother, mentor, fellow journeyer, teacher, comedian, and worshipper. They are my friends.
As we went through the God-given block of time together, a few thoughts trickled through me.
~ Friday night, I left their hotel room and wrote: "They are solace to my defeat."
~ Saturday night I was baking cookies in the kitchen and heard them in the living room playing games with my roommates, and wrote: "It is a sweet sweet sound in my ear. It's beautiful. It's giggles and exclamations, and silly chidings. It's mixings of voices and inflections. It's communal laughter, in unison, beckoning me to hear the tones of it's melodies." What joy.
They are women who challenge, who love, who live. They ask hard questions. They are willing to give hard answers. They prod, encourage, wrestle, trust, and worship with me. I am grateful; I am blessed. I am touched, by the presence of these four women.
Four women from Crossroads drove 14 hours on Friday to spend Saturday & Sunday with me and drive another 14 hours back on Monday. Four women, from my community group, with relationships to me that combine teacher, mother, mentor, fellow journeyer, teacher, comedian, and worshipper. They are my friends.
As we went through the God-given block of time together, a few thoughts trickled through me.
~ Friday night, I left their hotel room and wrote: "They are solace to my defeat."
~ Saturday night I was baking cookies in the kitchen and heard them in the living room playing games with my roommates, and wrote: "It is a sweet sweet sound in my ear. It's beautiful. It's giggles and exclamations, and silly chidings. It's mixings of voices and inflections. It's communal laughter, in unison, beckoning me to hear the tones of it's melodies." What joy.
They are women who challenge, who love, who live. They ask hard questions. They are willing to give hard answers. They prod, encourage, wrestle, trust, and worship with me. I am grateful; I am blessed. I am touched, by the presence of these four women.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Conquered Death.
I am so glad that Jesus Conquered Death.
That he has the last victory.
He isn't in the grave. She isn't in the grave.
He has conquered death. And We will have the Victory.
This is hope, this is freedom, this is My God.
That he has the last victory.
He isn't in the grave. She isn't in the grave.
He has conquered death. And We will have the Victory.
This is hope, this is freedom, this is My God.
I Remember.
So what happens during these times of anniversary, is you remember many things. Some of them sad, some of them funny, some of them sacred. Here's just a few from those categories...
* My last two conversations with my mom were Thursday afternoon and Friday afternoon, both afterschool. They were beautiful days, the first gorgeous days of spring, and I sat outside on the lawn. Her discussing and us praying about her starting a mentoring program for younger women in her church. We talked Thursday for nearly an hour, then came back to revisit the topic Friday. And I still remember the Lord speaking clearly to me those days. And the warmth of sitting on the blanket on the freshly grown spring grass.
* That Friday, I was setting up for my Bloom Brunch, and decided to stay home to do so. I was giddy and excited, placing name cards and flowers around the condo. And staying home to get a pizza and movie for myself. My mom and I laughed about how fun that was for me.
* That night. I had called dad because I thought someone was in my house (long story...) so when the cop called, I thought he was referencing this, because he kept saying "I'm at your house with your dad..." Then, I thought maybe it was a student posing as a cop. Then I asked about my brother and sister, and he said they were also on their way. I finally figured it was the Homerich house but was still wary and he just said he would tell me information once I got there, and to take my time driving. I called Kelly. Josh picked up. I could hear Kelly in the background. That was all I needed to know. I got in my car and knew I would remember that drive for the rest of my life. So I drove slow, wondering if bricks had fallen on dad, if someone robbed them, if dad had a heart attack... I remember my mom saying the cops called them all to her parent's house when they were killed... but was trying not to freak myself out. So I remained calm the whole drive.
* My shoe. I will never get in a car again with only one shoe on and not think of this moment. I left in such a rush that I only got one shoe on. I pulled up to the house in the dark and the cop wouldn't let me pass. I stood on one shoe and held the other in my hand. Josh was on the front steps waving me up and in, but the cop was on the phone, and wouldn't let me pass. This went on for minutes. Finally, I just proceeded past the cop and met Josh on the porch... Kelly and dad in the front entryway, clinging to the stairs...
* I remember making phone calls. And people's exact responses when I had to tell her closest friend's the news. I can still hear their voices.
* Carolyn Deppe. The Friday night, I was crouched on the fireplace and she came over and said, in front of the thirty or so people there, loud and clear -- "You're mom and I were just talking about you this week. And we were both praying that you would marry a missionary doctor." Wow, of all times and places to discuss my dating life. I wanted to laugh and crawl in a whole at the same time, exposed in front of the crowd.
* Trying to arrange food. Whoa. That is a job in itself. Thankfully, Kelly took over most of that one. And made sure her and Melissa got a lot of Aunt Dawn's veggie pizza :)
* Trying to write the obituary. I think it was the first time that I felt my brain seize up. I remember sitting downstairs at the corner of the table of Cook Funeral home, and realizing that I wanted, I needed, to write her one last letter. Usually words tumble from my fingers, but I got so angry and cried all over the table because I just couldn't get to writing that obituary in the pressure of that twenty-minute time zone while also picking out headstones, caskets, bulletin wording, etc. Agr! It makes me angry and frustrated just thinking about that moment.
* Walking into "our section" of the funeral home the first time.
* People coming. People flocking to our house all day Friday, Saturday, Sunday, & Monday. My dad's friends walking in with wrenching tears and grasping him. My sister's best friend never leaving her side. My brother's entourage walking as one unit up the driveway. The neighbors with baskets and baked goods. Scott, Kimie, and Jill as that cousin bond unleashed fresh tears. People walking into the funeral home. Kate & Michael standing there. My students. Crossroads people. Amanda Cupp & Mandi Campbell. Laura, Jenny, & Missy never leaving my side. Countless friends from camp, high school, college, work, and beyond. Standing next to dad as a protector, and ushering people on.
* Consciously thinking, "I should be crying... Can I laugh? Why don't I feel pain?" And knowing I was almost third person at times, while other times envisioning things how I thought they would be instead of how they were.
* Sitting in the big red chair in the living room. Voices all in the kitchen talking, and tears just quietly and silently rolling down my checks.
* Taking Jaxson for walks any moment that I could. He was my safe place. My nurture. My quiet amidst the storm.
* Spending sleepless nights on the couches, floors, and beds at dad's house. (And transferring language from "mom & dad's house" to that). And each morning, us up before the sunrise, all awake and sitting talking for hours.
* Lots of coffee. Lots and lots of coffee.
* Going out for Sunday brunch with the family to Boatwerks. I remember thinking, "Wow. These people just keep living. They just keep mowing their grass, going to church...." And also the freshness that we felt getting out and getting food.
* Wanting to flick off everyone who drove by ever-so-slowly and stared out their windows at our house.
* Getting the message for the phone call during the funeral home, only to find it was Channel 8 in disguise, and having no idea what they were talking about.
* Anne staying with me my first night "home." Just quiet and silent and patient.
* My last two conversations with my mom were Thursday afternoon and Friday afternoon, both afterschool. They were beautiful days, the first gorgeous days of spring, and I sat outside on the lawn. Her discussing and us praying about her starting a mentoring program for younger women in her church. We talked Thursday for nearly an hour, then came back to revisit the topic Friday. And I still remember the Lord speaking clearly to me those days. And the warmth of sitting on the blanket on the freshly grown spring grass.
* That Friday, I was setting up for my Bloom Brunch, and decided to stay home to do so. I was giddy and excited, placing name cards and flowers around the condo. And staying home to get a pizza and movie for myself. My mom and I laughed about how fun that was for me.
* That night. I had called dad because I thought someone was in my house (long story...) so when the cop called, I thought he was referencing this, because he kept saying "I'm at your house with your dad..." Then, I thought maybe it was a student posing as a cop. Then I asked about my brother and sister, and he said they were also on their way. I finally figured it was the Homerich house but was still wary and he just said he would tell me information once I got there, and to take my time driving. I called Kelly. Josh picked up. I could hear Kelly in the background. That was all I needed to know. I got in my car and knew I would remember that drive for the rest of my life. So I drove slow, wondering if bricks had fallen on dad, if someone robbed them, if dad had a heart attack... I remember my mom saying the cops called them all to her parent's house when they were killed... but was trying not to freak myself out. So I remained calm the whole drive.
* My shoe. I will never get in a car again with only one shoe on and not think of this moment. I left in such a rush that I only got one shoe on. I pulled up to the house in the dark and the cop wouldn't let me pass. I stood on one shoe and held the other in my hand. Josh was on the front steps waving me up and in, but the cop was on the phone, and wouldn't let me pass. This went on for minutes. Finally, I just proceeded past the cop and met Josh on the porch... Kelly and dad in the front entryway, clinging to the stairs...
* I remember making phone calls. And people's exact responses when I had to tell her closest friend's the news. I can still hear their voices.
* Carolyn Deppe. The Friday night, I was crouched on the fireplace and she came over and said, in front of the thirty or so people there, loud and clear -- "You're mom and I were just talking about you this week. And we were both praying that you would marry a missionary doctor." Wow, of all times and places to discuss my dating life. I wanted to laugh and crawl in a whole at the same time, exposed in front of the crowd.
* Trying to arrange food. Whoa. That is a job in itself. Thankfully, Kelly took over most of that one. And made sure her and Melissa got a lot of Aunt Dawn's veggie pizza :)
* Trying to write the obituary. I think it was the first time that I felt my brain seize up. I remember sitting downstairs at the corner of the table of Cook Funeral home, and realizing that I wanted, I needed, to write her one last letter. Usually words tumble from my fingers, but I got so angry and cried all over the table because I just couldn't get to writing that obituary in the pressure of that twenty-minute time zone while also picking out headstones, caskets, bulletin wording, etc. Agr! It makes me angry and frustrated just thinking about that moment.
* Walking into "our section" of the funeral home the first time.
* People coming. People flocking to our house all day Friday, Saturday, Sunday, & Monday. My dad's friends walking in with wrenching tears and grasping him. My sister's best friend never leaving her side. My brother's entourage walking as one unit up the driveway. The neighbors with baskets and baked goods. Scott, Kimie, and Jill as that cousin bond unleashed fresh tears. People walking into the funeral home. Kate & Michael standing there. My students. Crossroads people. Amanda Cupp & Mandi Campbell. Laura, Jenny, & Missy never leaving my side. Countless friends from camp, high school, college, work, and beyond. Standing next to dad as a protector, and ushering people on.
* Consciously thinking, "I should be crying... Can I laugh? Why don't I feel pain?" And knowing I was almost third person at times, while other times envisioning things how I thought they would be instead of how they were.
* Sitting in the big red chair in the living room. Voices all in the kitchen talking, and tears just quietly and silently rolling down my checks.
* Taking Jaxson for walks any moment that I could. He was my safe place. My nurture. My quiet amidst the storm.
* Spending sleepless nights on the couches, floors, and beds at dad's house. (And transferring language from "mom & dad's house" to that). And each morning, us up before the sunrise, all awake and sitting talking for hours.
* Lots of coffee. Lots and lots of coffee.
* Going out for Sunday brunch with the family to Boatwerks. I remember thinking, "Wow. These people just keep living. They just keep mowing their grass, going to church...." And also the freshness that we felt getting out and getting food.
* Wanting to flick off everyone who drove by ever-so-slowly and stared out their windows at our house.
* Getting the message for the phone call during the funeral home, only to find it was Channel 8 in disguise, and having no idea what they were talking about.
* Anne staying with me my first night "home." Just quiet and silent and patient.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Love Comes In Packages.
If love comes in packages, then I know I am loved.
If it feels braggy or materialistic to say so... whatever, today I am fine with that. :)
I have great friends. GREAT FRIENDS! My roommates don't know what to make of my great friends who this past year keep sending cards, books, cds, postcards, flowers, mugs, lotions, chocolates, cookie cutters, and yes, even rocks & stones, in the mail.
If love comes in packages, then I know I am loved. I know that distance and travel and phone calls and text and all the ways we could connect or disconnect during this season and space are void, because somedays, these days, love comes in packages.
If it feels braggy or materialistic to say so... whatever, today I am fine with that. :)
I have great friends. GREAT FRIENDS! My roommates don't know what to make of my great friends who this past year keep sending cards, books, cds, postcards, flowers, mugs, lotions, chocolates, cookie cutters, and yes, even rocks & stones, in the mail.
If love comes in packages, then I know I am loved. I know that distance and travel and phone calls and text and all the ways we could connect or disconnect during this season and space are void, because somedays, these days, love comes in packages.
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