Bulbs

Something caught my eye last week as I hurried through the garden center at the hardware store.  (

The afternoon temperatures where I live seem to challenge the fact that the first day of fall is just around the corner.

)  I was surprised to see the bags of bulbs on display.  As I rushed past them, I found my thoughts drifting to another time.

I vividly remember the cold February morning when two friends knocked on my front door.  It was about a week after

Scott's

memorial service. There they stood ~ gardening tools in one hand and bags of bulbs in the other. They simply announced that they had come to plant bulbs for spring flowers.

There was something so symbolic in their work that day.  I watched through the living room window as they dug down through the cold dirt. Carefully they placed each bulb in a warm bed of earth just below winter's chill.  And there the bulbs completed their winter rest ~ protected from the last blast of cold air, warmed by the ground which entombed them.

It was not many weeks before I noticed the first push of tiny plants through the dirt in the garden.  Then the thin stalks began to grow and buds appeared.  Sure enough ~ as winter became spring ~ so the buds on the stalks opened to reveal the beautiful display that had been tucked away in each bulb.

As I reflect on the bulbs planted in my garden that winter in 1996, I am amazed how the experience often parallels my own life's journey. Each of those bulbs is really a dwelling place ~ formed to protect the beautiful plant from winter’s chill, just waiting to be roused by the warmth of spring. The bulb also contains nutrients to ensure the plants' survival during its winter nap. Many plants that grow from bulbs are perennials. Although each will die back to the ground during a dormant period, they are protected from the harsh realities of winter, as they wait for the promise of spring to bloom, year after year, at their appointed time.

And so it seems with my life ~ the seasons come and go. I know there will be winters to endure, times to nurture and renew my soul. And at an appointed time, the warmth of spring will bring forth the beauty of redemption and restoration.

Deep inside every man there is a private sanctum

where dwells the mysterious essence of his being.

A.W. Tozer

Sharp Contrast

Sometimes, life is harsh ~ and I admit ~ it is difficult to see a redeeming path through suffering.

Quite honestly, I have found that redeeming the future requires a conscious effort to look for beauty amid the sharp contrast of pain; to look for a glimpse of hope in the middle of despair.

As Tony worked in the yard this morning, he noticed some new blooms.  He called for me to come and see "

something beautiful, absolutely beautiful

."

There in our small cactus garden was beauty ~ in sharp contrast.  It would be so easy to miss these tiny flowers, unless your eyes were trained to look for beauty, even in the unexpected places.

Oh that we may train our eyes to see a redeeming path, in sharp contrast, to the pain and suffering that comes our way.

God's Redemption Center

Okay, I'll admit it ~ I hate to recycle

STUFF

! Rinsing out bottles and cans, sorting paper and junk mail seems somewhat futile.

I understand all the reasons we recycle ~ and I'm all for saving natural resource and energy, and promoting clean air and water. The internet is filled with helpful sites, like Earth911.com or Replanet.com. Cities, large and small, have recycling bins for households to do their part. Parking lots have drive-up recycling centers that accept just about anything . . .

non-living

.

But in the back of my mind I keep hearing that little chorus I learned as a child ~

Jesus never fails,

Jesus never fails,

Heav'n and earth may pass away,

But Jesus never fails.

© 1927 by Arthur Luther

And so, in my mind, it seems that no matter how many bins we fill in our effort to

Save the Earth

(said in that deep announcer-like voice)

~ someday this planet, as we know it,

will

pass away. And a New Earth will be created!

But this week as I was reading Isaiah 61, I was impressed with a different

recycling

program ~ one that truly spoke personally to my heart. Listen to the words of the Prophet Isaiah in the first four verses of this chapter ~

The Spirit of the Lord GOD is upon me,

because the LORD has anointed me

to bring good news to the poor;

he has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,

to proclaim liberty to the captives,

and the opening of the prison to those who are bound;

to proclaim the year of the LORD’s favor,

and the day of vengeance of our God;

to comfort all who mourn;

to grant to those who mourn in Zion—

to give them a beautiful headdress instead of ashes,

the oil of gladness instead of mourning,

the garment of praise instead of a faint spirit;

that they may be called oaks of righteousness,

the planting of the LORD, that he may be glorified

They shall build up the ancient ruins;

they shall raise up the former devastations;

they shall repair the ruined cities,

the devastations of many generations.

This is

God's

recycling program ~ the

ULTIMATE Redemption Center

~ where

human

resources are accepted

in any condition

~ to be rescued, restored, renewed from the burdens that seek to destroy them ~ and redeemed into someone with eternal worth.

Can you envision what this means?

God's Redemption Center

Everyone Welcome, Regardless of Condition

Do you know someone poor or brokenhearted; a friend held captive by the prison of their past? Can you think of one who mourns the loss of a precious loved one? Do you know families whose lives seems to be in ruins?

Perhaps you are broken, abused, or faint in spirit. You struggle under a burden of grief. Your life seems to be crumbling around you.

As the Prophet Isaiah, I can say, God has an

awesome

recycling program. He faithfully continues to

restore my brokenness

.

He is the God of all comfort. The Blessed Controller of all things. The One who brings beauty from ashes. He makes the lame to walk and the blind to see. Nothing is wasted in

God's economy

~ not our tears, our past, our deepest scars; not the mess we have made of things. He longs to rescue us from ourselves, restore our worth, renew our hope and redeem our future.

Do not lose heart. God does more than recycle.  He transforms us into new creations for His good pleasure.

Sunday's Coming

I think it was

Tony Campolo

who first coined the phrase,

It's Friday, but Sunday's coming!

Those five words truly capture the

contrasts

of this Easter season. Holy Week begins on Palm Sunday with Jesus exalted as he rides through Jerusalem only to find his body buried in a tomb on Holy Saturday.

And in between, Mary watches her son beaten and scorned, nailed to a cross.

Jesus sees his mother's grief from the cross and speaks to her loss ~

“Woman, behold, your son!" Then he said to the disciple, “Behold, your mother!” And from that hour the disciple took her to his own home.

~ John 19:26, 27

It's Friday, but Sunday's coming

!

Mary and the others who find the tomb empty and realizes the fulfillment of Scripture and the hope of resurrection.

It's Friday, but Sunday's coming

truly resonates with my soul.  As a mother who has laid her

son

in the arms of God, I have known

Friday.

  I grieve the loss of a child almost daily in my thoughts of

what.could.have.been

.

Yes, life in His Kingdom is full of contrasts.

Those who mourn are comforted.

Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.~ Matthew 5:4

Those who grieve have hope.

Dear brothers and sisters, we want you to know what will happen to the believers who have died so you will not grieve like people who have no hope. For since we believe that Jesus died and was raised to life again, we also believe that when Jesus returns, God will bring back with him the believers who have died.~ 1 Thessalonians 4:13, 14

Those who die in Christ are truly alive.

For while we are still in this tent, we groan, being burdened—not that we would be unclothed, but that we would be further clothed, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life.~ 2 Corinthians 5:4

Many of us have known

Friday

and we long for

Sunday

.

One of our local pastor's truly captured the heartache of Holy Saturday and the hope of Easter ~

Holy Saturday is really like the world we live in ~ it's the in-between day . . . We believe in the Resurrection and we know it is coming, but we patiently wait as we grieve, knowing His promise will be fulfilled. ~ Pastor Gregory Beaumont

Jesus said ~

I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.~ John 16:33

This life is full of

Fridays

but do not lose heart because

Sunday's coming!

Painting:

Jesus Taken Down From the Cross

, Michael O'Brien

Morning Has Broken

Morning has broken, like the first morning,

Blackbird has spoken, like the first bird.

Praise for the singing, 

Praise for the morning,

Praise for the springing fresh from the word.

Sweet the rain's new fall, 

Sunlit from heaven,

Like the first dew fall, on the first grass.

Praise for the sweetness of the wet garden,

Spring in completeness where His feet pass.

Mine is the sunlight, mine is the morning,

Born of the One light, Eden saw play

Praise with elation, praise every morning

God's re-creation of the new day.

Hymn written by Eleanor Farieon in 1931,

sung to "Bunessan", a traditional Gaelic tune

Photo by my friend, Holly in Flagstaff

Where The Rhythm Seems Lost

Thirty days hath September,

April, June and November.

All the rest have thirty-one

but February's the shortest one.

With 28 days most of the time,

until Leap year gives us twenty-nine.

I am not sure when I actually learned this short poem from my mother. I just remember knowing it most of my life. And I have used it in many ways over the years ~ to know the date to write on checks, to plan vacations, to find the 100th Day of School in my classroom, and to help my students learn the number of days in each month.

I remember thinking as a child ~ the first three lines have an arranged pattern of rhythm, a sense of completeness and  predictability of what sounds come next.

Thirty days hath September,

April, June and November.

All the rest of thirty-one.

These three lines were the easiest to memorize.  But the remaining three lines have always stumped me.  The rhythm of the poem seems to change in those last three lines. The words seem crowded.

Little did I know what a word picture this poem was to become for my life.

My February, as with the pulse of this childhood poem, is marked with syncopation rather than a predictable beat. The rhythm of its days has been modified and my focus is drawn to weaker sounds.

They are the sounds of mourning and groaning and loss.

For February, in its short twenty-eight days, marks the sudden death of my son, Scott, as well as the death of both my mother and father.

So, as each February comes around ~ like struggling to make the words of the poem conform to the rhythm of each line ~ I slow down and consider how best to experience the full weight of these losses and redeem the days to come.

I spend time in my

storehouse of memories

. I grieve

what could have been

. I give thanks that this

one

short month is

not

like the rest of the year. I rejoice in the

hope and promise

of a

blessed reunion

with my loved ones.

Resurrecting My Resolutions

Yes, I know that 2010 is less than thirty days old.

Yes, I know I just made my New Year resolutions.

But if you are like me, New Year resolutions made on January 1st are often D.O.A. before the end of the month. I like to think that I am not a flake. I do not consider myself unmotivated. But what I know about myself is this ~ I am a creature of habit and old habits are hard to transform.

Oh, I breathe life into my resolutions for a few days ~ sometimes for two or three weeks. More often than not though, I finally remember them about mid-month. Quite honestly, at that point, I tend to just declare them pulseless and non-breathing. As I go through the ritual of mentally burying yet another set of New Year resolutions, I am struck with both guilt and grief. I heap loads of guilt upon myself for failing ~ once again ~ and allowing my good intentions to fall lifeless along the roadside of the routine of life. I mourn the fact that it was not my old habits that died, but my good intentions that are once again found too weak to survive.

Sadly, this year’s resolutions are no different. Knowing my habit of making and breaking resolutions, I made just a couple. I kept them for a few days. But alas, as the number of days of the month increased, so did the number of fatalities on my list of resolutions.

Then, this past weekend, I remembered the words of a wise friend ~ words spoken in a sermon over 30 years ago. Ben West was the pastor of the small church we attended in northern California. Near the end of January, sometime in the late 1970's, Ben delivered a homily about keeping our resolutions. The focus of his sermon was not so much about making resolutions but rather on breaking them. That’s right! He wanted to address those of us who seemed to not be able to keep the resolutions alive for more than a few days or a couple of weeks.

It was one of those sermons where I felt he was going to preach directly to me. You know, when you feel like the pastor must be looking in the windows of your soul! I prepared myself for another dose of guilt.

Ben’s words that morning were not accusatory. His message was not filled with ‘should of’ and ‘ought to’. Rather, his words were gentle, encouraging and full of hope. Here is what I remember from that Sunday morning over 30 years ago.

We make New Year resolutions and we break New Year resolutions.

We can focus on our success at keeping them, or look at our failure of breaking them. Rather than focusing on what was not done, focus on what was accomplished because you made the resolution.

Maybe today you are able to say:

• I exercised 5 days in January ~ when your habit is to not exercise at all!
• I read my Bible for 3 days ~ when your Bible usually collects dust during the week.

Realize that you have accomplished something because you made a New Year resolution. Take heart and keep going from there.

Ben’s words were life-support to my dying resolutions back then, and are again life-giving in 2010.

Thank you, Ben, that today I choose to resurrect my resolutions and keep going from here.

Thank you that I can redeem this new year as I again breathe life into my desire to change old habits; as I lay aside the guilt and grief of failure; as I keep on being transformed into something new.

Hope of the New Year

Here is a fact you may not know. I am sentimental. Very sentimental!

Perhaps nothing makes that point quite as much as the small gift tag from Christmas 1992 that I have tucked away in a drawer. As I remember, this tag was not attached to a very memorable gift.  But this tag is in my mother's own handwriting.  It simply says To Bonnie, Love Mom and Dad.  She passed away the following February.  This tag marks the last of the forty Christmases we shared together.

So it comes as no surprise to my family that I tend to become sentimental, okay, pensive as New Year's Eve approaches.  I want to hold on to those precious memories of the past twelve months, and yet, I long for the fresh start the New Year brings.  I have to confess that in my desire to learn from my past mistakes, I often take them to heart a little too much ~ rehashing them again and again in my mind.

I want this year ~ 2010 ~ to be a redemptive one year!

How will God redeem my failings and transform me into a better wife, mother, grandmother, sister, aunt, friend, and mentor?

With all honesty, I am very hopeful this New Year's Eve.  I am relying on His power that redeems all things to Himself. I am resting in His promise to restore and reshape me for His good pleasure; to re-establish my path; and to renew my thoughts with His thoughts.

As I read the prayers of the Daily Office for December 31st, it included the wonderful story of the healing of the crippled man found in The Gospel of John. Here is the story in the Apostle John's words as it appears in the Book of Common Prayer:

After this there was a feast of the Jews, and Jesus went up to Jerusalem. Now there is in Jerusalem by the Sheep Gate a pool, in Aramaic which has five roofed colonnades. In these lay a multitude of invalids ~ blind, lame, and paralyzed ~ waiting for the moving of the water; for an angel of the Lord went down at certain seasons into the pool, and stirred the water: whoever stepped in first after the stirring of the water was healed of whatever disease he had. One man was there who had been an invalid for thirty-eight years. When Jesus saw him lying there and knew that he had already been there a long time, he said to him, “Do you want to be healed?” The sick man answered him, “Sir, I have no one to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up, and while I am going another steps down before me.” Jesus said to him, “Get up, take up your bed, and walk.”And at once the man was healed, and he took up his bed and walked.

Now that day was the Sabbath. So the Jews said to the man who had been healed, “It is the Sabbath, and it is not lawful for you to take up your bed.” But he answered them, “The man who healed me, that man said to me, ‘Take up your bed, and walk.’ They asked him, “Who is the man who said to you, ‘Take up your bed and walk’?” Now the man who had been healed did not know who it was, for Jesus had withdrawn, as there was a crowd in the place. Afterward Jesus found him in the temple and said to him, “See, you are well! Sin no more, that nothing worse may happen to you.” The man went away and told the Jews that it was Jesus who had healed him. ~ John 5:1-15

What an incredible story of transformation! Jesus not only restored this man’s health, but redeemed his future ~ Take up your bed and walk . . . sin no more!  The man did not leave his bed behind, but took it with him, perhaps as a reminder of the transformation he had experienced.  The man obeyed and took those first courageous steps of faith as he walked out into the city of Jerusalem on his own two feet ~ for perhaps the first time!  The man was truly transformed ~ from the inside out as he was encouraged to sin no more.

And yet, as I re-read the story, I find Jesus' question to the man a little strange.  Why would Jesus ask a man who had been invalid for 38 years if he wants to be healed?  Isn't the answer pretty obvious?  I think Jesus asks the question because Jesus knows that lifestyles are hard to change.  We tend to be quite comfortable, thank you with how we use our time, how we spend our resources, and how we treat one another.  In many ways, we have become invalids ~ stuck in our own bed of old habits and traditions.

I want this story of redemption found in John 5, to be my New Year’s story!  I want Jesus to restore to health to those areas of my life that He knows need healing.  I want Him to redeem my future.   May I Him with all of it, and be willing to take some courageous steps of faith as I walk where He leads me and become who He wants me to be!

Yes, I am quite hopeful this New Year's Eve ~ as I fix my gaze on the His redeeming love ~ that 2010 will be a redemptive year .

Happy

    New

       Year!

A Picture That's Worth A Thousand Words

Okay, so I didn't mean a

thousand

words. But this morning my friend Robin posted this photo on her Facebook profile after a recent day in the snow.  My mind immediately filled with words inspired by this tiny pine tree in the snow.

Hope.

Courage.

Strength.

Determination.

Overcoming

.

Faithfulness.

I hope this picture encourages you in the 'winters' of life ~ to know that He is able to produce in us a life that brings Him glory and draws others to His kingdom - no matter what.

What

words

does this picture say to you as you consider the new year?

Photo by Robin Manuszak 2009

I'll Be Home for Christmas

In 1943, a new Christmas carol ~

I'll Be Home for Christmas

~ raced to the top of the charts.  Think about that year in the life of America.  We were in the midst of World War II.  Soldiers, far from home on the front lines, could only

dream

of being

home

for Christmas.  Their families, gathered around the Christmas tree, longed for their loved ones to be home at this most wonderful time of the year

.

Today, the message of the song remains the same ~ there is a desire to be home for Christmas,

if only in my dreams

.

I'm sure the song elicits a range of emotions.  Some will head home to the smell of grandma's cookies and to find their stockings still hung by the chimney with care.  Others will gather together with relatives coming from near and far.

But for many, the song truly depicts

just a dream

. Christmas 2010, finds children wondering which 'home' they will be in for Christmas as divorce has divided their family.  The current economic hardships have left many families out on the streets, where

home

is where ever they can find a place to lay their head. Unresolved conflict will keep some families from coming together in the

same home

, even at Christmas.

For those who find themselves on a journey of grief, this song elicits both dreams and memories ~ I dream about the way things

should be

and cling to the memories of the way things

used to be

at Christmas time.  To be completely honest here, it took more than 10 years after

Scott

died before I could listen to this song without tears filling my eyes.  I longed for Scott to walk through my door and be home for Christmas.  I wanted things to be like they were in

Christmases past

.  I repeated the last line of the song again and again ~

If only in my dreams

~ long after the music stopped.

What finally transformed my thinking was when I realized the song's attempt to create a picture-perfect scene for the hearer.  Now before you think me a Grinch, please hear me out.  I know the song brings warm thoughts and precious memories for many of you.  It did for me at one time; I believe it will again someday.  But the song also creates many assumptions about the holiday and the experiences it brings. When someone's reality falls short of this wonderful Christmas scene, what remains are thoughts of disappointment and regret. Look at the lyrics ~

I'll be home for Christmas;

You can count on me.

Please have snow and mistletoe

And presents on the tree.

Christmas Eve will find me

Where the love-light gleams.

I'll be home for Christmas

If only in my dreams.

Here is the assumptions I hear ~

Assumption #1:  We each have a home to which to return ~ a significant, memorable place where you and yours gather for Christmas.  For some, their home was memorable for all the wrong reasons.

Assumption #2:  The weather will cooperate to produce a White Christmas ~ another one of Bing's famous recordings.

Assumption #3:  There will be presents under the tree ~ regardless of the balance in one's bank account.

Assumption #4:  A home is filled with so much love that it creates a love that glows.

Assumption #5:  Circumstances and surroundings are what makes Christmas special.

No, my heart is not two-sizes-too-small!  Believe me, when it comes to being sentimental, I am right near the top of the list. 

(I have the closets and boxes full of treasured items to prove it!) 

But if I have learned anything on my own journey of grief it is this ~ most of us

live

in an assumptive world.  And our assumptive world almost always disappoint us.

Christmas never was about being home or snow or presents on the tree.  It is kind of ironic when you think about it.  Christmas is the time to remember the Christ Child who

left his home

in heaven to be born in a manager.  Christmas is not about dreaming and wishing you were somewhere other than where you are right now.  Christmas is filled with promise and hope.  For it is the very Babe of Bethlehem who has secured an eternal home to everyone who believes.

This Christmas,

may you find

your home

in Him.

The Hope of Advent

What were those weeks and months like for Mary as her body began to reveal that she was with child?

I'm sure she heard the whispers; she noticed the heads turning away to avoid eye contact with her. What gave her the courage to carry this Child in the face of such disgrace?

What were her thoughts as she traveled with Joseph from Nazareth to Bethlehem, being great with child?

The journey must have been physically difficult and emotionally demanding. What was the source of her comfort along this predetermined path?

Today is the first Sunday of Advent. Worshippers around the world will light the first candle ~ the Candle of Hope, as we recognize that our longings, our desires and our hope are found in the Babe of Bethlehem.

Mary was most likely well aware of the writings of the prophets. Perhaps she found great courage in the words of Isaiah ~

A shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse and a branch shall grow out of his roots. The spirit of the Lord shall rest on him, the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of counsel and might, the spirit of knowledge and the fear of the Lord. His delight shall be in the fear of the Lord.

Possibly she received comfort as she focused not on the pain of the present but on the promise and potential found in the Child she carried.

In His name the nations will put their hope.

Hope ~ the anticipation of a good yet to come.

As I come alongside individuals desperately seeking peace with loss,

HOPE

is fundamental. It is perhaps

the essential value

for survival ~ a source of courage and comfort ~ as one negotiates a pathway of grief. Hope brings into view a

purpose for living

in the face of loss. Hope enlightens our awareness that a

relationship of memory

creates a legacy to be embraced. Hope conveys anticipation that we can be

transformed and not destroyed

by our loss.

Hope ~ the anticipation of a good yet to come.

May today's Candle of Hope illuminate for you

a good yet to come

.

Happy Birthday, Scott

Tomorrow ~

November 23rd

~ is Scott’s birthday. He would be 30 years old.

To be perfectly honest, while I rest in the assurance of where he

is

, I wrestle with the reality that he

is not here

.

Tonight, my heart cries out for Scott to be present in our lives. My ears long to hear his voice. My arms ache to hug him.

I struggle to envision what he might look like, all grown up. I can only see him as he was ~ a fair-haired, freckle-faced teenager . . . with a contagious laugh and smile! I remember one of the first things our grief counselor told us in those early days after Scott’s accident ~

You will forever be the parents of sixteen year old boy.

I did not understand it then, but I know it all too well now.

I have been on this journey of grief long enough to know that I really cannot fight the emotions, or bury the sorrows. So today, I surrendered to my grief. I allowed the tears to come to the surface. What deep wisdom is contained in Jesus’ words in Matthew 5 ~

Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.

In anticipation of Scott’s birthday, Tony and I drove to one of our favorite local nurseries this afternoon. We thoughtfully selected new plants to add color and life to Scott’s memorial garden in our side yard.

Amy and our grandchildren ~ Kaitlyn, Kyle and Jack ~ will join us in Uncle Scott’s Garden tomorrow. We will prune back the perennials and place in the soil each new sign of life. Our work will be a labor of love as we strive to not lose heart. As we toil to bring beauty to what is seen, we long to bring into focus what is unseen, what is eternal.

In this small way we celebrate the life of our precious Scott and give thanks for the sixteen years we had with him. All the while, we cling to the hope of our blessed reunion when there will be no more sorrow, no more tears, and no more goodbyes.

Happy Birthday, Scott ~

I love you

!

Changing Lens

The chill of fall is definitely here. I feel it creeping in under the doors and moving through me to envelope my heart once again.

Perhaps it's the seasonal soccer games that cause me to take the first steps along this pathway. As I watch my grandsons at their weekly games, I am instantly

there

. And I know it is not always a conscious choice I make . . . to go to thoughts of Scott. It is just a natural place to be. So when Jack so proudly defended his goal, when he repeatedly kicked the ball away from the box, it just came out.

Go, Scott!

On the sidelines of the soccer field my thoughts inexplicably go to how life

was

, how life

could have been . . .

and how.life.

SHOULD

.be.

Perhaps it's in knowing what the chill of fall brings. It is inevitable ~ cooler nights and shortened days will escort in the grip of winter. It is easy for me to find myself emotionally, mentally, and socially preparing to close down for another winter of grief as the shadows of my sorrow stretch long across the landscape of my heart.

The chill outside brings the awareness that my winter of grief will soon be upon me. Just as the cooler days drive me deep into my closet to drag out my sweaters and jeans, so too I begin to consider how to protect my heart from the harsh realities that so readily seem to consume me.

Honestly, it is only by changing the lens through which I look at this season that brings warmth to my grieving heart. The Apostle Paul writes in II Corinthians 5 that this earthly tent of ours ~ the mortal body ~ will one day be torn down. And when that happens, he writes,

that what is mortal will be swallowed up by life

. Did you see that? Can you bring the contrast of those words into focus? When this mortal body is no more, we are

not

swallowed up by death. We are swallowed up by life.

Changing lens does not mean that the brutal force of winter will not be present in my life. The seasons of grief are

quite

predictable to those who mourn. But this new lens illuminates the fact that the chill of fall and the hard freeze of winter, also brings the hope of life ~ in the warming days of spring ~ and forever in eternity.

(Photo courtesy of my cousin, Bev Henry.)

The Noticer by Andy Andrews

I recently became a

book reviewer

for Thomas Nelson Publishing.  From time to time you will find a book review here on my blog.  Here is my first one.

Life will never be the same for the folks who live in one small Gulf Coast town. The transformation of these individuals begins the day Jones arrives. By his own admission, Jones is a

noticer

- "It is my gift." Jones not only knows everyone’s name – he mysteriously knows everyone’s life story. He knows the events and players many have hidden from view. Although his gift brings new perspective and hope, in the back of everyone’s mind remain many questions: Who is Jones? Where did he come from? When will he show up? How does he know so much about the people he meets?

The beauty of

The Noticer

is its ability to connect with the life of the reader. The experiences of the people Jones encounters are not unique – most people have events and individuals in their past that play a role – in positive and negative ways.

Although I think the book had a few too many scenarios, I enjoyed the story line and getting to know the characters. Jones brought many new perspectives into focus for me as I carry his thoughts on the purpose for living – “If your purpose has not yet been fulfilled, then the most important part of your life has not yet been lived.” His words on forgiveness, trust and respect resonate well with my soul and my work as a mediator – “Forgiveness is about the past. Trust and respect are about the future.”

Rogue Waves

Tony and I do not watch much TV.  First of all, we only have

basic

cable - no premium channels, no TIVO, no DVR - so our choices are usually slim.  Secondly, there does not seem to be much on TV these days that encourages us in our daily lives. Lastly, we do not have too many evenings when we are home with absolutely nothing to do. 

Once in a while, as we surf through the channels, we come upon a show called 

Deadliest Catch

 ~ about the men and women who make their living fishing the depths of the world's oceans.  It has some amazing footage of these vessels, the crew and what they encounter.  It actually can make one sea-sick just by watching.

The work on these ships is tough, the weather is fierce and the living conditions are cramped.  As if these realities were not enough, there is another threat for those tough enough to hold down this job.  There is the possibility of

rogue waves

 ~ waves that seemingly come out of nowhere and have measured upward to

100 feet tall!

Scientists are still working to understand completely what causes these killer waves to occur.  One theory is that these giant walls of water form when strong winds push against the ocean current, or when swells react to the rise and fall of the seafloor. It may also be that smaller waves converge at the same place and time to combine into a monster wave.  Can you imagine how many little waves it would take to come together to build at just the right time, in the same place, to become a rogue wave?

Whatever the cause, rogue waves are rarely predictable.  They rise up spontaneously, without warning.   Captains and crew members of ships have little warning except the visual image of a wall of water coming toward them.  And by then, it is often too late. 

Although I live with both feet firmly planted on dry land, I often find myself facing killer waves - situations, circumstances, events and at times, personalities - that seem to come out of nowhere, with little to no warning.  And like an oceanic scientist, I find myself trying to figure out

what just hit me

and

why

!

Sometimes I find myself in a place where I have allowed too many

little things

to just build.  Am I the only one who keeps saying 'yes' to things and then finds myself over-committed, way in over my head?

(

pun

intended)

  Other times, I may sense life taking me one direction, and I fight against it, like a fierce wind pushing against the ocean's current, only to find the pressure of the current wins in the end.  And I am left treading water rather than swimming with the flow.  It seems I can look back

(with 20/20 vision, of course)

and see how I could have predicted the wave, planned for the wave, and maybe even avoided the wave.

But there are times in my life when - without any warning - I am hit by a rogue wave . . . a monster, killer wave. It comes out of nowhere.  And I feel like I am drowning.  I'm sure you have been hit by them too.  The phone call that tells of a fatal accident.  The diagnosis that means life will never be the same.  The devastation left by the wildfires.  The layoff.  The foreclosure. 

Life . . . at times, it can feel like a rogue wave ~ sucking us under, towing us into the deep where we can't stand, swallowing us, taking our breath away. 

The day

before

 our home was hit with the massive rogue wave of

1996

, my husband, Tony, was teaching an adult group at our local church.  There were no indications that a monster wave was in the making.  No way to know what the next day held for us.  Yet, Tony's text for that morning in early February was a passage in the New Testament about when Jesus' disciples were gripped with fear as their small boat was tossed around by the winds and the waves on the Sea of Galilee. 

To illustrate his point, Tony drew a small boat on the white board.  He added waves crashing over the sides of the boat, and 'stick figures' of disciples yelling out from the boat.  Then he drew a rock, just below the water line, holding the boat steady.  Tony commented, "Even in the midst of the storm, Jesus is our rock, holding us as we ride out the waves."  I think every person in the room that morning will always remember that drawing.

Just 24 hours later,

our

boat was fighting to stay upright against a killer wave.  We were taking on water fast.  We were drowning in our own tears.  We could hardly breathe.  And yet, we survived the loss of our precious son.

Jesus said to his disciples that day on the stormy sea, "Oh, you of little faith!  Have you not learned anything . . .?"  Jesus had proved His power and strength ~ to keep them, hold them, provide for them ~ and yet, they did not remember His faithfulness in this time of need.

When rogue waves are looming off on the horizon and it is as if a towering wall of water is ready to overtake us, let us call out in our weakness from our small boats to the One who made the seas, who calms the winds, who holds our very lives in His hands in the midst of the storm.  He remains our hope.  Our rock.  Our cleft in the storms of life.

Seeking God in the Night

Today I share a post written by Jessica ~ one of my

traveling buddies

.

My

traveling buddies

are ladies who find themselves on the same journey as me . . . a journey with no up-grades, many road closures and a burden of grief. We are members of what I call,

The Bereaved Mothers Club (BMC)

. I pray you will not

ever

become a member of BMC.

Membership requirements are weighty:

we have each laid a precious child in the arms of God.

I have been on this road over 13 years. Jessica entered this journey more recently ~ joining my travels about 2 years ago when her sweet son, Kade. passed away in his sleep on his two-month birthday.

This week, Jessica posted a glimpse of this journey and how this dark road can lead to transformation. I asked permission to post it here for those of you who follow my blog and look for the hope of redeeming the future. Her struggles are real. Her doubts are many. But her hope is secure. I am encouraged by her words.

Here, in Jessica's own words, is part of her journey . . .

I woke up at 3 a.m. from a nightmare that was all too real. I dreamt that we lost Tori and were struggling with the fact that we had lost another child. Obviously I was thankful to wake to find that Tori was sleeping soundly in her bed without a care in the world. While I breathed a sigh of relief, my mind went to Kade. I lost it. Poor Trav woke to me bawling like a baby, and quickly realizing I needed him, slid his arm under my back and pulled me close. We have spent many a lonely night this way. Night time is hard.

There's something about the dark that feels hopeless and overwhelming. The Lord has taught me much about the night. He speaks of the night throughout His Word and I've asked Him to give me His view of the darkness. He says that "the night shines as bright as day" and that "nothing is hidden in the dark" and "weeping comes in the night but joy comes with the dawn" which are some of my favorite passages to meditate on in the night watches. I'm still learning this concept but I have found great comfort in knowing that the Lord sees no difference between night and day and that as His child I can trust that He remains constant no matter the amount of light around me.

But last night as we lay together in the dark my faith was small. I asked Trav the hard questions that I know he desperately wishes he could answer for his wife. "How can a God who loves me give me such a precious gift only to take it back? Why would He allow something so tragic to occur in my life that I question His very existence, sovereignty and love for me? Why would He want me to doubt His love? Doesn't He want me to rest securely in it?" Trav just shook his head, unable to give me an answer that would ease the pain.

While I wrestle with these feelings, they are fleeting and are instantly squelched by truth. Even in my darkest moments, moments like last night, I hear the Lord speaking to my heart. He does love me. He sacrificed HIS son so that I could spend eternity with MY son. I can rest deeply in His love for me that is beyond measure and unchanging. I can fall down at the throne of grace knowing that He keeps each tear in His bottle and takes note of them in His book. It's in the most vulnerable of moments that my Savior is most real to me. It's when I'm doubting His love that He takes the opportunity to flood me with it. It's in those moments that His kindness and grace reaches down and pulls me out of the miry clay I'm sinking in. It's the very thing I doubt that rescues me.

Still I struggle with what to do now. One of the biggest adjustments has been learning how to walk this road that was never one I had considered. I feel like I'm being forced down this path that was never what I imagined my life to be. The truth is, it was always the road I would travel. Since I wasn't handed a map I had created my own itinerary, and forgot to include the pit stops and detours along the way Looking back over past 22 months without Kade, I have seen how the Lord has grown me up, pushed me forward and lavished His grace on me for every step. The Lord has provided some amazing fellow travelers that are making the journey much more bearable.

So what now? I'll just keep putting one foot in front of the other toward eternity, my Savior and my son.

Jessica says it well. We put one foot in front of the other as we move along this journey to that blessed reunion with our children. There isn't an

exit

off of this road. There is no closure. The reality of losing a child is always with us ~ and quite honestly, we

want

to remember, as we cling to

memories

as proof of their existence. But there is the hope of redeeming the losses of this life. There is the promise of transformation.

Hear, O LORD, and be merciful to me!

O LORD, be my helper!"

You have turned my mourning into dancing;

you have loosed my sackcloth and clothed me with gladness,

that my glory may sing your praise and not be silent.

O LORD my God, I will give thanks to you forever!

Psalm 30:10-12

I love you,

J ~

To read more of Jessica's postings, visit her blog

Seeking His Face

.

Surviving the Present

I know there are times it is too much for me to even think about redeeming the future; when today is just too overwhelming ~ I hope I can just survive the present. You know those kind of days.

You are or you have been the mother of small children and you do not have one.more.ounce of energy to offer. You have deadlines and responsibilities that seem to consume every brain cell. You are battered with images from your past that rob your joy. The memory of someone loved who has died opens that hole in your heart to allow all your strength to drain away. The future just looks hopeless.

I know there are times I just want to survive today. I cannot think about redeeming tomorrow.

I am thankful our Lord knew we would have days like this. Listen to his words in Matthew 6:34,

Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.

I am grateful for God's promises in Lamentations 3:19-24 when I encounter these times.

Remember my affliction and my wandering, the wormwood and bitterness. Surely my soul remembers and is bowed down within me. This I recall to my mind, Therefore I have hope. The LORD'S lovingkindnesses indeed never cease, For His compassions never fail. They are new every morning; Great is Your faithfulness. "The LORD is my portion," says my soul, "Therefore I have hope in Him."

How precious, how refreshing, what a hope-filled picture, as I face one of those kind of days, to know He is the great I AM, offering His lovingkindness and compassion, renewing my hope, and filling my portion.

I know I will have days where I do not have one.more.ounce of energy to offer; where it seems every brain cell is consumed with deadlines; where the brokenness of my past robs me of the joy here and now, my strength is simply draining away, and I feel hopeless.

When those days seem to find us without the energy, joy, strength and hope we need, may we dwell on the promise of His strength for today and His bright hope for tomorrow. As we wait on Him to renew us, restore us, fall a fresh on us ~ as we survive today ~ we ARE investing in the future that He promises to redeem in His perfect time.

Great is Thy faithfulness, O God my Father;

There is no shadow of turning with Thee;

Thou changest not, Thy compassions, they fail not;

As Thou hast been, Thou forever will be.

Great is Thy faithfulness! Great is Thy faithfulness!

Morning by morning new mercies I see.

All I have needed Thy hand hath provided;

Great is Thy faithfulness, Lord, unto me!

Pardon for sin and a peace that endureth

Thine own dear presence to cheer and to guide;

Strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow,

Blessings all mine, with ten thousand beside!

Easter Reflections

Easter stirs so many emotions for me. It seems my reflections are intricately woven with the events of Jesus' last week on earth.

As I approach Holy Week, I feel myself drawn to Gethsemane. It is a place of protest, you know, where Jesus went to ask the Father to let this cup of death pass from him. I have stood among the old olive trees in Gethsemane on a trip to Israel in 1997. The year before, I quite literally found myself begging God to let the cup of death pass over our family. I have laid a precious life in the lap of Abba Father and uttered the words,"Not my will but yours be done," as I learn to trust Him with the pain.

As I awake on Good Friday, I find myself identifying with the sorrow of Mary, whose son's life is slipping away as he hangs before her on the cross. And yet I find comfort in the words Jesus speaks to her in John 19:26, 27. He sees her tears, and looking down from the cross, he meets her in the form of her need, to fill the deep void created in her mother's heart.

When Jesus saw his mother

and the disciple whom he loved standing nearby,

he said to his mother,

"Woman, behold, your son!"

Then he said to the disciple,

"Behold, your mother!"

And from that hour

the disciple took her to his own home.

And then the hope of Easter comes upon me. I realize the power of the resurrection to bring a glorious reunion with those who have gone before. I recognize the promise of Jesus to his disciples as he taught them about his Kingdom that would be ushered in by his death. Jesus tells his disciples in John 16:22, 23 ~

You have sorrow now, but I will see you again,

and your hearts will rejoice,

and no one will take your joy from you.

In that day you will ask nothing of me.

My Easter reflections always take me back to a Garden in Jerusalem, where I stooped to enter an

empty

tomb. I praise Him for the promise of resurrection, the hope of reunion, and the Kingdom where he will . . .

. . .

wipe away every tear from their eyes,

and death shall be no more,

neither shall there be mourning,

nor crying, nor pain anymore,

for the former things have passed away.

Revelation 21:4

Baby Eli

Will you join me in praying for our dear friends again? Eli has shown slow but gradual progress for the past 3 weeks. Today was the day to extubate him, to try to take him off the respirator.

Here is the report his parents just posted:

"Eli was taken off the respirator this afternoon. That was about an hour and a half ago. He's struggling quite a bit, so there's very real concern that he'll have to be re-intubated. His voice doesn't work yet, but he's constantly crying... a silent cry, but his face still shows the struggle all too well. This is pretty hard to endure."

You may remember, Eli had open heart surgery at 2 days old to replumb his heart to a 3-chamber heart. He has been in PICU since he was born, 3 1/2 weeks ago.

Eli's parents, Tanya and Jason, ask for prayer that Eli will have the strength to breath on his own, and that they will know the will of God.

My own prayer is that Tanya and Jason will feel the everlasting arms of God holding them as they wait upon Him to reveal His perfect will.

The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases;

his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning;

great is your faithfulness. "The LORD is my portion,"

says my soul,"therefore I will hope in him."

Lamentations 3:22-24

Faith That Cannot Be Eclipsed

I remember the first time I saw a solar eclipse as a child. A total solar eclipse could be frightening for people who are unaware of its explanation, as the Sun seems to disappear in the middle of the day and the sky darkens in a matter of minutes. For me, it has since become a wonderful illustration of transformation in suffering.

While talking with a friend last week, I was reminded of this as our conversation turned to the suffering of Job,

a righteous man

, given so much to bear. My friend and I talked about the exchange of words between God and Satan recorded in the first chapter of the Book of Job. After some debate about Job’s commitment to trust God in all circumstances, God gives Satan permission to

bring on the suffering

!

I began to reflect upon a similar event recorded in the New Testament. Jesus declares to Simon Peter in Luke 22:31-32, that Satan has

demanded

permission to bring suffering into the lives of righteous individuals. Jesus says:

Simon, Simon, behold, Satan has demanded permission to sift you like wheat;

but I have prayed for you, that your faith may not fail;

and you, when you have turned again, strengthen your brothers.

To be totally transparent here, I am a bit uneasy by what Jesus

does not

say to Satan. I would prefer to hear Jesus say:

Satan has demanded permission to sift you like wheat;

but I have told him “

No

.”

I am not a student of Greek, but there are times when knowing the original language can grow us. That is the case for me in these words of Jesus. A deeper look at Luke 22:31-32 helps me understand the power in Jesus’ prayer.

Jesus’ words, “

that your faith may not fail

” are really metaphorical. In the Greek, Jesus says, “

I have prayed . . . that your faith may not

Ekleipo

.” Our word

eclipse

comes from this Greek word, e

kleipo

. It means to darken, obscure or diminish in importance; to surpass or outshine.

Jesus is saying to Simon Peter, just before His own crucifixion, and to us today, “

I have prayed . . . that your faith may not be darkened, obscured or diminished from what Satan may bring into your path

.”

And the image of that first solar eclipse I saw as a child comes to mind.

Suffering

, like the moon itself, seems to orbit around my life on a fairly regular basis because of choices I make that are not the best for me or Satan’s desire to sift me like wheat. Satan wants this suffering to darken and diminish my faith and hope in the Lord.

I don’t know about you, but the image of an eclipse is powerful to me. Jesus’ words indicate that it is possible for MY FAITH to be stronger, deeper, wider ~ to literally shine through SUFFERING. It is possible for me to not be destroyed, but rather transformed. These changes will not destroy me, but can give me a chance to speak of a faith that is firm and cannot be eclipsed!