Two Dozen Red Roses

Thirty-six years ago today, November 10, 1973, I worked the afternoon shift at the JC Penney store in the Lakewood Mall.  To my surprise, when I arrived home from work there were TWO ~ not one, but

TWO DOZEN

red roses waiting for me.  The card enclosed with the flowers read:

Tonight is going to be very, very, very special!

Love, Tony

Tony and I have known each other most of our lives ~ my earliest memories of him go back to age five.  We grew up in the same southern California town, attended the same church and saw each other at children's meeting, social events and gatherings.  My dad was his third grade Sunday School teacher.  His mom was my sister's Sunday School teacher.  We knew each other for many years when we began dating in 1970.

After three years of dating, I knew that the roses ~ the

TWO DOZEN

red roses ~ meant only

one

thing: that night I would be asked to become Mrs. Tony Redfern!  He reserved a table at

The Gate of Spain

restaurant on the top floor of a building along the Santa Monica coastline.  He

paid

the maitre d'

for a window table.  After our meal, he pulled a handkerchief, with my engagement ring tied to it, from inside his coat pocket (he said he was so afraid of losing it)!  And he asked me

Will you marry me?

So tonight, like every November 10th over the last 36 years, Tony asked me out on a date!  It will be a tender time ~ maybe even tearful time ~ as we celebrate the decision we made to make a lifetime commitment to one another thirty-six years ago, and the faithfulness of God to carry us through the best of times and the worst of times.

Thanks for asking me ~ my answer is still

YES

!

I am so proud to be

Mrs. Tony Redfern!

I love you!

Time Travel

Time travel ~ that’s what it feels like when I find myself suddenly, once again, surrounded with the pain and reality of Scott’s death.

It always amazes me how fast I can go there.

This morning I decided not to go to church. I have fought this flu bug for almost two weeks and I decided to give myself an extra day of rest. So I poured myself a cup of coffee, sat down on the couch, and turned on the TV.

A woman was speaking to a sanctuary filled with parishioners.

(I recognized the church right away; the glass windows surrounding the sanctuary were a sure giveaway.)

I really did not intend to keep listen to her, but she was very engaging and the story just kept pouring out of her. I did not hear all the details but her story was about the faith of children who prayed for a miracle. She was an administrator at a Christian elementary school and she asked all the students to pray for a young friend who was having surgery for a brain tumor. The results of the surgery were not good. She shared how she had to go back to those students to tell them that their little friend was not going to get better ~ the little girl had been placed on life support. Doctors saw no signs of life and were advising the parents to turn off the machines.

The children couldn’t understand why they should stop praying. They believed in a God of miracles and were going to pray anyway. The next day, the doctors told the little girl’s parents that they saw a small hint of life in their daughter. Then the next day, they saw more life, and so on, until the little girl made a dramatic recovery.

And in that instant, I was overcome with doubt. In a matter of seconds, I traveled back in time. I was standing next to

Scott’s bed

at the medical center. I was holding his unresponsive hand. The nurses were coming in and out to check for any changes in his condition. His chest would rise and fall with each vent from the respirator, but there were no signs of life in him.

Scott did not recover. He was declared brain dead. He became an organ donor.

As I sat there on my couch this morning, I found myself once again questioning brain death and comas and vegetative states. It is personally very difficult for me to hear of someone who was

declared brain dead

and then wakes up after who-knows-how-many-years. Perhaps what complicates this for me is that these terms (brain death, coma, vegetative state) are used interchangeably so often by the media and those sharing these stories of recovery.

So once again I found myself wrestling with our decision. I went to the computer ~

again ~

 and googled

brain death

. So many of the events of Scott’s final hours came into my mind as I fought against feelings of despair.

The statement from the neurosurgeon who first admitted Scott’s airlifted body ~ I see not life in your son.

The maxillofacial surgeon who operated on Scott for more than six hours ~ I literally just closed him up; I did all I could.

The 100+ high school students ~ many on their knees in the hallways ~ praying for a miracle.

The CT scan that was performed ~ convincing two neurosurgeons to declare Scott brain dead.

The blood flow test we demanded ~ and not one drop of dye went past Scott’s brain stem.

It is not that I don’t rejoice with the speaker this morning. I am so grateful that even one family did not have to live with the grief of losing a child!

What I want to say is that I believe in a God of miracles, too . Sometimes we do not receive the miracle we ask for. I truly wanted my son to survive. I still wish I could somehow have my son back. But that was not the miracle I received.

The miracle I received was

grace

~

deeper and wider and higher than I ever knew before.

A grace that has the strength to carry me when I am weary.

A grace that is tender enough to catch all my tears in a bottle.

A grace that draws near to my broken heart.

A grace that transforms mourning into dancing.

A grace that guarantees a time to come when there will be no more tears, no more death, no more goodbyes.

And then it happens again ~ His grace transports me with those everlasting arms and gives me the courage to face the realities of life, and brings me the hope of a blessed reunion.

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

A Silent Malignancy

I have a friend whom I have known for about 50 years.

(Yes, it may be hard for some of you to believe that I am old enough to have known a friend for almost 50 years. It’s a fact!)

My friend is actually a little older than I am. As a young teen, she lived nearby and occasionally babysat my sister and I

(poor thing ~ not that I was a terrible kid ~ but I did have my moments)

. Then, as newlyweds, she and her husband were sponsors in my high school youth group at church.

They have remained

young at heart

 ~ staying active, enjoying traveling, appreciating art ~ and still in love after all these years. So it came as quite a shock this past spring, when her husband was diagnosed with a tumor ~ a large malignant tumor near his kidney and in close proximity to his aorta ~ that remains inoperable. As a healthy man, he experienced no discomfort, no signs that these cancerous cells were growing inside of him. If he had not gone in for a routine physical, they had no reason to suspect the presence of the tumor.

Over the past few months, he has undergone tests, scans, countless appointments with specialists and massive doses of chemotherapy. He lost his full head of hair. His body reacted to the chemo treatments and began to retain fluids. His energy level dropped to limited activity around the house. The

good news

is that the tumor did shrink. He no longer requires chemotherapy, and his energy level has improved to almost where it was before the treatments. The

bad news

is that the tumor did not shrink enough. He is scheduled to begin radiation treatments in a little while.

My friend keeps an online journal of their journey with cancer. One of her entries this week truly made me stop and think ~ how well am I?

Here is a summary of her entry . . .

It is almost hard to remember the days when he felt the effects of chemo; to recall how hard it was during those endless days and nights. He feels so normal now. We almost forget that he still has a malignant tumor in his body. There is no pain, no sign of it that he can feel or know, or be reminded that it is there. These last eight months that we have been on this journey have been experienced because the doctor told him he had a problem.  He never knew ~ and still would not know simply by how he feels ~ that he has a tumor which will kill him. This is really rather stunning when you think about it. How can there be something deadly in one’s body and have no idea it is there?

But it is still there, lurking in the dark, waiting for us to forget; to leave it alone so it can grow back and take over ~ how sinister! It reminds me of how attitudes and thoughts can take over in our spiritual lives ~ small or big, quietly yet deadly ~ growing . . . hoping to take over our minds and hearts if we are not watchful and prayerful about how we live and breathe, always asking God to show us those areas where we need His care and healing to remove them, to make our spiritual health intact, to live and grow in Him and bring glory to Him through our life.

Her words reach deep within my soul!

Sometimes I think we are quite good at masking reality. Denial, at the moment, may seem an easier path. But like any cancer ~ cells of unrighteousness and unforgiveness, of anger and disappointment, of hurt and envy ~ will fester and multiply. The Great Physician desires to heal us ~

redeem us

~ in every fiber of our being. His Spirit scans our mind, our heart and our soul, and reveals the thoughts and attitudes that seek to destroy our peace with God, our relationships, and ultimately, our very purpose for living.

I am reminded of the story in John 5 when Jesus visits Jerusalem. He passes by a pool where the blind, lame and paralyzed lay ~ each hoping for someone to come and meet their needs. Jesus approaches a man who has been an invalid for 38 years and asks him,

"Do you want to get well?"

It sure seems like a redundant question to ask someone who has been sick all of his life if he wants to get well. But Jesus knows our tendency to not deal with hard issues ~ thoughts and attitudes we choose to ignore. Jesus looks at what life

could be

if we are willing to face these silent malignancies that hold us back from the abundant life he truly desires us to live.

Jesus also knew wellness was going to cost this man. The invalid would no longer be carried everywhere; no longer have food brought to him. A well man would need to accept responsibility for his life.

Oh, to have eyes that see and ears that hear His offer of healing. I pray we take the first steps to

redeem the future

. . . acknowledge there may an area of the heart ~ a silent malignancy ~ which needs to be restored. 

Do you want to get well?

But blessed are your eyes, for they see, and your ears, for they hear.

Matthew 13:16

No November!

For the majority of my career as a teacher ~ 20 of my 25 years, to be exact ~ I spent my days with five and six year olds.   Gotta'

love

kindergartners and first graders! When the calendar in the classroom changed to November, the following poem was always a part of our fall celebration.  It came to mind today as I noticed the date. 

No green grass

No blue sky

No bare feet

Going by

No birds

No bees

No fall leaves

On bare trees

November

Although November brings many changes to my heart and the world around me, it is a blessing and comfort to know that the God who created the changes that mark each season, holds me in His everlasting arms.

What Word Are You?

I recently enjoyed a good read sent to me by my son-in-law, Jeff. I really connected with the short article entitled

Can You Sum Up Your Life's Message in Just One Word?

The author, Bradley J. Moore, encourages his readers to find a word ~

one word

~ that is an appropriate descriptor of all the time and effort and passion one spends to integrate one’s faith into the day-to-day world. Although written to those in the business world, I believe it is an interesting challenge for anyone of faith to consider. What one word best describes how we live out our faith as teachers, parents, friends, electricians, dentists . . . you fill in the blank?

The article reminds me of a post I noticed recently on Facebook:

Let's see how honest FB friends are. . . . Leave a ONE WORD comment that you think describes me. It can only be one word. No more. Then copy and paste this on your wall so that I may leave a word about you.

When I first saw that post on FB, a word did come to mind -

RISKY

. This innocent appeal could very well serve up a dose of

in-your-face

reality, quite difficult to swallow.

Seeking to find one word to express the integration of my beliefs into my daily world requires the answering of a few essential questions. Is there true integration of my faith across all areas of my life? Am I living a life of integrity or one filled with duplicity? Does my walk match my talk?

For me to find just one word to describe my life assumes that I live a life of integrity. Integrity is more than simply being someone who speaks the truth, although that is certainly a major element of its meaning. Living a life of integrity means that my life ~ the integration of my faith beliefs and my actions ~ is not divided, conflicting, or contradictory. What I say I believe is confirmed by my actions, aspirations, achievements and acquisitions.

The rub in finding a single descriptor comes when our lives are characterized by duplicity. The ancient Hebrews had an idiom that expresses the notion of living a life of integrity or duplicity.

Let your yes be yes, and your no be no.

In other words, let your

inward

yes ~ what you believe, be the same as your

outward

yes ~ how you live out what you believe.

The question in Mr. Moore’s article presupposes a foundation of integrity. One word ~ no contradictions, no opposing life styles, no duplicity.  One word ~  a single descriptor that communicates how we allow what we believe on the inside to influence how we live out our lives on the outside. In essence, it is

faith gone public

.

What word are you?

Remembering Kade

Remembering Sweet Kade Visser

Born to Jessica and Travis on August 28, 2007

Placed into the arms of His Heavenly Father October 28, 2007

Many are the plans in a man's heart,

but it is the purpose of the LORD that will stand.

Proverbs 29:11

May we continue to see Your glory

as we await the blessed reunion with our sons

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.”

Parting Gifts

Badger's Parting Gifts

is one of my favorite books to read to children to help them understand death and loss.  It is a story about the day Badger dies.  His friends from the forest are all so sad.  Then one of them has an idea!  Perhaps if they thought of all the

gifts

Badger left them, it may help them with their grief.  One by one, the animal friends remembered Badger ~ something he taught them to do or a new way of looking at life.  It is a lovely example of

transforming the relationship

with those we love who pass away.

Every summer, since the 1996, the year of

Scott's

 passing, in the Redfern backyard, we receive some of

Scott's

parting gifts.

This story really begins when Scott was seven years old.  He wanted a box turtle and he wanted to name it 'Bubba'.  Scott worked very hard to earn the $40 he needed to buy Bubba.  He built a cool deck with wheels to hold Bubba's glass aquarium.  He kept Bubba in his bedroom at night, and each morning he would roll Bubba out to the sunlight that came in our sliding glass door during the day.

One day we bought a book about box turtles.  Much to our surprise, we discovered that Bubba was not a

'Bubba'

. 

Who knew?

  This didn't bother Scott.  He simply changed

her

name to Bubbette!

It was not long before Scott earned more money and decided he would shop for another turtle ~ one he could

really

name, Bubba.  Scott took care of Bubba and Bubbette.  He built a raised garden in our backyard when he was about thirteen years old.  He loved to add elements to the turtle's habitat - like shelters made out of broken clay pots and strawberry plants to give them shade and eats.  Scott would gather snails from the yard and watch Bubba and Bubbette devour them!

Then in the spring of 1996, just about three months after Scott died, we were weeding the raised bed when we noticed Bubbette digging a deep hole with her back legs.  She was able to dig a hole about six inches deep with her short three inch legs.  And then, as if we were watching a nature show on PBS, she laid five eggs in the hole.  And just like that, she filled in the hole with the pile of dirt she has removed from it.

This ritual has continued each summer since 1996.  In fact, Bubbette sometimes lays up to three batches of eggs.  If we happen to see her laying them, we mark the area with some small stakes.  Then we wait.  It is odd, but Bubbette normally lays the first batch around the end of May, near Memorial Day.  We normally see the first hatchlings sometime around the start of September, near Labor Day.  It is almost like clock-work!

Our turtle book tells us it is hard to raise turtles from eggs.  Most eggs born in captivity do not hatch.  They must have the perfect humidity as well as soft enough soil for the babies to dig out of their earthen womb.  Yet, each summer we have new babies.  That is why I believe the baby turtles to be some of Scott's

parting

gifts

.

  He never saw Bubbette lay eggs.  He never held a tiny hatchling ~ some no bigger around than a nickel.  But each year, as September comes, we experience the joy of Scott's parting gifts.

Here are two babies we found this week ~ eight babies in all hatched this summer.  Bubba and Bubbette have outlived Scott.  These babies will outlive me!  Scott's niece and nephews will continue to receive

parting gifts

 each summer and share the memory of Uncle Scott for years to come!

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.

His Slot is Full

Tucked away in the inside cover of my Daytimer is a short article I clipped from a

Compassionate Friends

newsletter thirteen years ago. It is ~ I must admit ~ a

sorry-looking

piece of paper. The edges are crumbled and torn. But the words printed on that small scrap of paper are of great value to me.

It was not long after

Scott died

that I found the article. It was written by a grieving father who had lost his teenage son. The father was responding to an innocent question often asked of parents after the death of a child.

Will you have another child?

Many wrestle to find an answer. As I companion young moms and dads on their grief journey, some share about the confusing emotions tied to that question.

~ Will having another child appear

as if we are replacing our precious child?

~ If we have another child

won't we have new fears of losing

another

child?

~ What if having another child

causes us to forget the child we lost?

One young mom shared with me the fear that gripped her when she found out she was expecting again after the loss of her baby to

SIDS

. Babies who die of SIDS leave may unanswered questions for parents. There are few known causes and a multitude of medical conditions that create the possibility for an infant to die of SIDS. And this mom, like many others, expressed honest, heart-wrenching emotion ~ how would she ever experience peace, knowing she could lose this precious one as well?

Some parents ~ their empty arms too much to bear ~ choose to have another child right away. (Let me say, there is no

right time

to have another child - every one's grief journey is unique.) Yet, the birth of another precious baby will not take away the pain of losing a child. It may provide comfort for those who grieve. It may fill empty days with the joy of new life. But it will not take away the hole left in one's heart by the death of one's child.

And that brings me back to that scrap of paper, the article which so well explains that hole left in one's heart after the death of a child. Yet, it also teaches us about the sacredness of that hole, that

slot

, as the author calls it.

His Slot is Full

Yesterday, a young teacher, a man who had known

Olin, Kathy and me over the years,

asked if we thought of having additional children,

and if we did, would they fill Olin's slot,

that empty space in our lives.

I answered as best I could -

that those parts of us that love are never empty.

Save but for the space they physically filled,

our children live, both spiritually and in us.

While I live, Olin is as recent as the moment,

alive and laughing, forever seventeen.

There are many slots in our hearts for others,

but

his

is filled.

What I have and he took,

what he gave and I took

will never be lost.

Love is there

beyond the dust and ashes that awaits us all.

There will always be room for others,

but he has left no slot to fill.

Even amidst the pain and the sorrow,

it was never empty.

(Don Hackett, Hingham, MA)

After thirteen years of traveling my own grief road I can tell you that Scott's slot ~ the hole left in my heart by his sudden death at a young age ~ is still there, but IT.IS.FILLED! Filled with memories that feed my heart and soul on days when his absence still envelopes me.

These precious memories fill Scott's place in my heart and allow me to maintain a

relationship of memory

with my dear son. Friends who are close continue to make deposits into his slot as they retell stories and let me know they have not forgotten.

It is all part of living with grief.

Made In HIS Image

Kimberly Claire, a former neighbor and childhood friend of our daughter Amy, is on staff at

Scum of the Earth

Church in Denver, Colorado.

Interesting name for a church, don’t you think?

The name comes from the passage in 1 Corinthians 4:12-14 (ESV) that reads . . .

. . . and we labor, working with our own hands.

When reviled, we bless; when persecuted, we endure;

When slandered, we entreat.

We have become, and are still, like the scum of the world,

The refuse of all things.

I do not write these things to make you ashamed,

But to admonish you as my beloved children.

Mike Sares is the pastor of Scum. Recently he offered this post in their church newsletter,

Rubbish

(nice touch in keeping with the theme). Mike wrote:

It has been said that ever since God created us in His own image, we have more than reciprocated. It would be sad if it weren’t so humorous. We are ever prone to make God look, act and feel like a human, In the old movie, The Ten Commandments, they used Charlton Heston’s voice for the voice of God talking to Moses (played by Charlton as well). Perhaps they did that because that is how God sounds to people – just like themselves! Greek and Norse mythologies are about gods behaving like men and women complete with our own petty jealousies, capriciousness, and immorality. To this day, we all project our inconsistencies upon God; God likes the people we like, puts up with the ones we put up with, ridicules the ones we ridicule, and way too often tells us exactly what we want to hear, I am afraid! (The song by Mark Heard, Everybody Loves a Holy War, is all about this as well.)

The God of the Bible exhibits amazing love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control toward a human race that not only distorts His image, but treats people in ways He would never intend. Because of what Jesus did on the cross, God intends to form that love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control in us through His Spirit (see Galatians 5:22). Be on the lookout for the times when this “re-creation” is happening. Allow God to make you into His image, not visa-versa.

I don’t know if those words speak to you, but Pastor Sares’ words shout to me. I think my own responses ~ in times of stress, disappointment or working with difficult people ~ make the image of God I display for all to see look more like an image from those

House of Mirrors

, where the reflections are bent and distorted. Oh, that I would reflect His true image laid out in Galatians to a world that needs redeeming.

I am reminded of the many passages where we are

told

~

not suggested

~ but

commanded

to image God’s character. You have probably read the pattern of words in verses like . . .

Just as I am ____ (fill in one of God’s character qualities),

So be ____ (the same character quality).

We are told in 1 Peter 1:14-16 . . .

As obedient children, do not conform

To the evil desires you had when you lived in ignorance.

But just as he who called you is holy, so be holy in all you do

For it is written:

“Be holy, because I am holy.”

This passage, and the many others like it, do not offer some magical formula to reflect His character, His image. No hoops to jump through; no level of greatness to achieve. These passages simply say ~ just be like Him. The only requirement is a

willingness

to allow His spirit to transform us to reflect His image for the world to see.

I pray that I will begin to consider my attitudes, affections and aspirations. I pray that God

will not

sound like

me and that I will hear His voice and reflect His image to those around me. I can think of no better way to Redeem the Future than to reflect the image of God who offers comfort, hope and a future to all who follow Him.

Mixed Emotions

We spent a fun filled week at Hume Lake this summer. Amy and Jeff, along with Kaitlyn, Kyle and Jack,shared the week with us.

Tony and I have spent at least one week each summer at Hume Lake for most of our 35 years of marriage. My family vacationed there in the 50's when I was a little girl, and I went to high school summer camp there in the 60's. Hume Lake is

full

of memories and brings many emotions to mind.

Amid all the fun of making new memories with my grandchildren, there are many

linking objects -

a

normal

part of one's grief journey. There are so many things and places that remind me of the 16 years we had with Scott. Tony went to Father-Son and Father-Daughter Retreats many times with the kids as they were growing up. Scott made the decision to make Christ the Lord of his life at Hume during one of those times with Tony. He made a commitment to be

a tool for Christ

his last summer at Hume.

We are grateful for friends who allow us to stay in their cabin each year. It too is filled with memories - as we summered and wintered there with family and friends. Tucking Kyle and Jack into bed upstairs one night, I told them, "You know, Uncle Scott slept right here in these beds when he was your age!" Their big eyes and wide grins were precious. How I wish Scott was here to meet his nephews and niece.

We took Kaitlyn, Kyle and Jack fishing one morning. Even the

lake weed

they reeled in linked me to Scott. He and his buddies were given "lake weed duty" by Dayn (camp dean and future youth pastor to Scott and Amy). Scott spent his free time one afternoon pulling lake weeds from the boat channel as a consequence for some of his

ingenious

pranks.

One morning we drove up to Buck Rock. We climbed the 172 wooden stairs that cling to that huge rock that stands at 8,500 feet. It was Kaitlyn and Kyle's first trip to the top to the fire lookout station. Scott's ashes went off the landing at Buck Rock.

The pile of rocks, placed there 13 years ago as an

Ebenezer

, are still there - a testament that we do not grieve alone. It was precious as Kaitlyn and Kyle helped me pick wild flowers to place on the pile of stones that are a memorial to Scott and represent the emotions of so many friends and family.

Kaitlyn's eyes filled with tears as she laid more flowers on the stones. She has such a tender heart. I remember when she was about five years old and we met with friends at this Ebenezer to begin the memorial bike ride. I was holding Kaitlyn's hand as we walked to this pile of stones to remember Scott before the ride. As the riders took off, Kaitlyn turned to me and said, "But where

is

he?" "Who?" I asked. She replied, "Uncle Scott - I thought he was going to be here today." That was the day she began to understand how we often

groan

in these earthly vessels to be reunited with our loved ones for all of eternity.

And quite honestly,

groan

is a good descriptor. I always enjoy my week at Hume, don't get me wrong. I

love

making new memories, and

savor

the old ones. But several times during our week at Hume, I found myself fighting back many emotions -

sorrow

in Scott's absence,

thankfulness

for the years we had him, and at times -

protest

, that Scott

should

be here to enjoy this with us, to be present with his niece and nephews, to ride the Buck Rock ride with Tony one.more.time.

Please Don't Throw Up In My Car

I am going on a date with Tony tonight ~ just like I did 42 years ago today. We have gone out on a date every August 1st since our first date in 1970.

Growing up at the same church, Tony and I have known each other since we were young. But it was not until I was in high school that I began to wish Tony would ask me out. Since he graduated three years before me, I looked forward to the college group at our church because I knew Tony would be there. It was a wonderful surprise when he asked me out at our weekly volleyball games.

Our first date was somewhat of a

group

date ~ the college group was going to the Hollywood Bowl for a concert. I had not planned on going ~ until Tony asked if I would go with him!

Saturday night finally arrived. Tony picked me up in his

very cool white MGB-GT with leather interior

. We drove to the church where the college group was taking the church bus to Hollywood.

The weather was perfect for the outdoor concert and I was thrilled to be with Tony Redfern!

When the concert ended, we headed back to the parking area. I remember feeling funny ~ like I might be sick ~ so I turned to Tony, looked around for a restroom, and collapsed in his arms. Yep ~ real romantic-like, with my eyes rolled back in my head!

Don't even start laughing yet ~ it gets worse! With his date passed out in his arms, Tony very carefully laid me down on the sidewalk, right in the middle of the crowds of people walking to their cars. It didn't take long before I came to only to begin throwing up all over myself . . . in front of Tony and all those strangers!

A first aide nurse from the Hollywood Bowl came out to help move me over to some curbing where I continued to throw up. The nurse began asking Tony questions to determine what might be the matter with me. I will always remember one of her questions. She asked if I was pregnant, to which Tony answered, "No . . . I don't think so . . . are you?" Great! (The answer

was

NO.)

Needless to say, the ride home on a bus on the freeway was horrendous. When the bus parked back at the church, I threw up some more. When I finally stopped, Tony knew he needed to take me home in his 

very cool white MGB-GT with leather interior

. He opened the back of his

very cool white MGB-GT with leather interior

. He took out an old beach towel. He opened the car door for me and helped me sit down. He tucked one end of the towel into the edge of the dashboard by the windshield. He tucked the other end of the towel in the neckline of my blouse, under my chin. Then he said,

"Please don't throw up in my car."

Needless to say, he did not kiss me goodnight on our first date. And, I did not throw up in his car. It ended up that I had an inner ear infection and I was sick for weeks.

Thankfully, Tony did ask me out again . . . and again . . . and again.

So it is August 1st, again, and I look forward to going on a date with Tony

(especially after the

events

of the past 16 months)

. I am so thankful he did not

dump

me after such a horrible first date. I am thankful we still love to go out on dates after all these years together.

And I guarantee as we drive off tonight, he will say,

"Please don't throw up in my car."

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

.

God is Good . . . No Matter What

Maybe it is just me, but at times I feel some tension when I hear people express their gratitude for God's goodness because things went well for them.

You know - the news camera pans the street of homes destroyed by a tornado in the small Midwest town, save

one house

left standing. The homeowner of the house spared by the twists and turns of the tornado, stands among the rubble of her neighbors' homes and tells the reporter, "God is so good. Our house was spared." Am I the only one thinking about all the families whose homes were flattened - was God NOT good to them?

I remember a coworker sharing with me about her grandmother who was very ill in a nearby hospital; she was so excited that her grandmother had made it through the night. With great joy she said, "Isn't God good? My grandmother is better this morning."

I rejoiced with her that her grandmother had not passed away. Then I gently and lovingly said, "Even if your grandmother did not make it through the night, God is

still

good."

When our son was on

life-support

for 30 hours in 1996, we prayed for healing. But there was no healing. Was God

not

good to us?

It seems so easy, so natural to speak of His greatness, His goodness, His faithfulness when we experience things going our way.

God is so good - our bid on the house was accepted.

God is so good - my cancer is gone.

God is so good - we get to go to Disneyland.

(I know that last one is lame, but folks, I've heard it!)

I don't want you to think I am insensitive when people recognize and rejoice in God's goodness. I know that every good and perfect gift comes from Him. I know that He is the provider of all that we have and the

sustainer

of all that we are. I am grateful for His goodness.

But I wonder how many of us look for His goodness, His greatness and His faithfulness in the disappointments and heartbreaks, and the griefs and losses in our lives? God is still the provider and

sustainer

of those individuals whose homes were lost by the tornado. God is still a good God even if our loved one dies.

This age of technology which allows us to warn communities of severe weather conditions, diagnose and treat major diseases, and in many ways

cheat death

, also gives us a sense of expecting the good . . . and only the good.

We are amazed when bad things come our way. How could a loving God allow that to happen? Where was God when that plane went into the ocean? Why did their son have to die so young?

And yet, in the midst of our pain and suffering, there is a

GOOD GOD

who is still the

Blessed Controller of All Things

. Proverbs 19:21 says,

Many are the plans in a man's heart,

but it is the

LORD's

purpose that prevails.

This verse tells me that there will be times when things will

NOT

go my way. There are times when I will think God

LET ME DOWN.

How do we see His goodness in the depth of our struggle? We train our eyes to focus on HIS purpose. He promises to bring glory to Himself and draw people to His Kingdom. He promises to one day reconcile all things to Himself.

The writer of Lamentations knew this.

Have you ever thought about the life someone must be living to write a book called Lamentations

? That fellow knew suffering and sorrow. He writes in

chapter

3, verses 18-26:

So I say, "My splendor is gone and all that I had hoped from the LORD."

Remember my affliction and my wanderings,

the wormwood and the gall!

My soul continually remembers it and is bowed down within me.

But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope:

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."

The LORD is good to those whose hope is in him,

to the one who seeks him;

it is good to wait quietly for the salvation of the LORD.

I am not advocating that we stop praising God for His goodness when we feel blessed. I am proposing that we look for His faithfulness, His goodness, and His mercies in all circumstances. They are there even when we do not

feel or see

them because our plans did not prevail.

God is good, and His mercy and faithfulness are new every morning, no matter what.

Seeing the Forest and the Trees

I'm sure you have heard it said that there are some who just

can't see the forest for the trees

. This idiom describes those who focus on the minutia of the present rather than the vista of possibilities. It implies that something can be gained by allowing our gaze to go beyond the present realities

(the trees)

to see what might be ahead

(the forest)

.

As one certificated in death and grief studies, I companion people who often can

only

see the trees

- the overwhelming sorrow, the enormous hole, and the indescribable loss. They are doing well to see the trees - to wake up each morning, feel the weight of grief, and make it through another day without the presence of their loved one.

To them I say -

"Let's just sit here among the trees. The forest will be there when we are ready to see it."

This week I am

with

dear friends who have many trees growing on the horizon and the forest is becoming obscured as they deal with life and death issues.

(

With

: to make a conscious decision to carry in thought and prayer the burdens of another)

I have to say - these trees are OMINOUS, as trees go.

~ Not like the giant sequoias that display strength and stability; these trees are brittle and spindly, as if their branches would snap under the slightest weight.

~ Not like the mighty oak that beckons travelers to sit under the shade of her sweeping branches; these trees offer no relief, as their twisted branches reach out and snag passersby.

~ Not like the lush trees that flourish along the banks of a river; these trees are thirsty and dry, and suck the very life out of all who travel among them.

Even in this age of technology, there is no Garmin - no simple, lightweight handheld device to navigate through this rugged terrain. There are no guarantees that the medical procedures available on the horizon will change the reality that their precious “Little Man” may not survive.

As I sit with them in the landscape of their lives - the reality that their child’s life hangs in the balance - it is impossible to tell if the moans I hear come from the winds of change blowing through the menacing branches or the hearts of those who find themselves in this place.

But it is here we sit, in the dark night of the soul, waiting until God lifts our gaze to see the forest beyond this place among the trees.

Please join me in being with this dear family engulfed by the foreboding trees of reality that they may . . .

. . . Feel God’s presence in this darkness

. . . Hear His voice among so many

. . . Recognize His leading as He clears a path for them

. . . Know His peace as they wait with hope in His eternal will

For more information and to follow their story,

please visit A Heart of Worship

Thirty Five Years

Thirty five years ago this weekend,

I married my best friend.

Can we really be

that old

-

to have been married for thirty five years?

As children I watched you play, never dreaming our two lives would someday become one.

And then, God placed you in my heart

and me in your heart, and on July 13, 1974

we began a journey as husband and wife -

best friends

-

trusting God to make known the path He had for us!

I remember a few years ago, you began telling me,

"You know we are living out the greatest love story ever!”

And I

boastfully

thought to myself,

“Wow! We must be pretty good at this marriage thing!”

Then you gently told me what you meant by this assertion.

God places such a high calling on marriage that He chose the greatest love story of all time to describe how a husband and wife should love and live together. How we live out our marriage

can show the world

His

greatest love –

wherein Christ laid down His life for His Bride, the Church.

Although

WE

have changed in our outward appearance as 35 years has left its mark on us, I can say that we are

still

living out the greatest love story of all time!

So in honor of our 35th Anniversary, I say thank you . . .

Thank you for promising to travel together as one,

to live out our lives together.

Thank you for holding my heart so tenderly,

in times of great joy and deep sorrow.

Thank you for listening to the voice of God

over the many voices of this world.

Thank you for willingly and faithfully providing

for our family along the way.

Thank you for being a godly leader for me,

and our children, to follow with confidence.

Thank you for teaching and modeling

the pathway to peace for our family.

Thank you for remaining my best friend.

After all these years,

I would say

yes

all over again!

I love you!

The Crisis and The Beau

I have heard said . . .

crisis reveals one’s true character

. . . and I tend to agree. In fact, after the events of Sunday afternoon, I believe adding an element of crisis during any dating relationship may well make or break a relationship.

Sunday I witnessed a crisis and saw the true character of one’s Beau. Here is how the circumstances unfolded that led to the crisis.

First of all, you need to know that I am grateful to have some of Scott’s friends in my life. Spending time with these young adults helps me make deposits into my storehouse of memories – laughing about Scott’s love for practical jokes as well as sharing his compassion for others. It also makes me very aware of the stage of life he would be now, if he had not left us so very young.

A couple of weeks ago, one of his classmates made plans to come by with her

special

friend, whom I will call THE BEAU. THE BEAU lives out of state and was coming to town for the long 4th of July weekend. She wanted us to meet THE BEAU – someone she is quite fond of and wanted to see what we thought of him. I have seen pictures of THE BEAU online, heard about the gracious and loving ways THE BEAU treats her, and have personally witnessed the fact that she talks and texts THE BEAU day in and day out. But I really did not know THE BEAU, until this weekend.

I looked forward to the opportunity to meet THE BEAU, watching and listening for any red flags that may go up. My husband and I tried to think of questions to ask THE BEAU that would provide an opportunity for him to reveal something about himself – his values and his intentions – without sounding like future in-laws, which of course we are not (but at times we may seem like impostors).

We sat outside on the patio under the umbrellas, eating strawberries over vanilla ice cream while my friend’s seven year old daughter swam in our pool – a nice diversion that allowed us to talk mostly uninterrupted. Watching THE BEAU interact with my friend was great to see – he seemed to be patient, courteous and thoughtful. He seemed to genuinely care for her well being.

I was equally impressed when THE BEAU began interacting with my friend's daughter in the pool. He offered to toss her daughter in – you know, launch her from the edge into the pool. At first her daughter appeared a little hesitant but then decided to let THE BEAU toss her in. In a couple of minutes, her daughter was begging THE BEAU for more.

So THE BEAU gently gathered her in his arms and told her to count to three. One . . . two . . . three . . . and again she went sailing through the air and into the pool. As THE BEAU leaned to make sure she cleared the edge of the pool, THE BEAU lost his balance. With arms flailing in an attempt to reverse the forward motion, THE BEAU himself became airborne and landed in the pool! Shirt, jeans, socks, tennis shoes, watch and wallet, all under water.

When THE BEAU came up for air, his face displayed a wide grin as he laughed along with us and said, “This feels great! I haven’t been swimming in a long time.” THE BEAU tossed his wallet, shoes and socks on the deck, hung his shirt on the fence to dry, and dove back in – in his jeans! THE BEAU spent the next twenty minutes swimming and diving with my friend’s daughter.

I thought about THE BEAU’s reaction to what could have been a humiliating situation. THE BEAU knew he was there to meet us (i.e., impress us). THE BEAU could have come out of the pool and pouted, embarrassed that he had fallen in. THE BEAU could have blamed the daughter for not letting go soon enough. THE BEAU could have gotten upset that his clothes, shoes and wallet were soaked.

But THE BEAU was not undone by the crisis.

THE BEAU’s true character was revealed in this moment of crisis . . . and I, for one, approve!

Molding Memories

Today I grieve the loss of another young son, just four months of age, whom God called Home this week.

Today I call upon the God of all comfort to sustain another mom and dad as they close down the short life of their dear son.

Today I once again go to a mortuary to hold a precious little hand and a tiny foot, and press them into soft clay to mold a lasting memory of this dear son's earthly body.

The death of a child is so painful. It is a period before the end of the sentence. It is not only the loss of the present but also the loss of what might have been . . . the milestones and relationships that will never be.

As a fellow traveler on a journey of grief, a bereaved mom who has walked a little ways down the road, I can say that the future brings opportunity for transformation. But in the present, the here and now, in the rawness of this loss, the weight of this grief may at times seem too much to bear as this young couple begins to create a new normal that does not include their precious son.

Today I offer this young mom and dad a small gift as they begin their own journey of grief, as they move toward transforming their relationship with their little man . . . from a relationship of presence to a relationship of memory. They are still his parents; he is still their son. Death does not change that. But it does mean that their precious memories . . . how he looks, laughs, plays; his sweet smell, tender cries and warm hugs . . . these will forever be spoken of in the

past tense

, and will be what sustains them over the coming decades.

Author Norman Cousin wrote,

Memory is where the proof of life is stored

.

As you remember this family, whether or not you know them personally, bathe them in prayer. If you are near to them, share stories of their precious son. It is true that your comments may bring tears to their eyes, but oh, how their hearts will be filled as you make deposits into their storehouse of memories.

May they feel the everlasting arms of the Father, the God of all comfort, who knows the sorrow of the death of a son, carrying them until they once again hold

their

precious son in their arms for all of eternity.