When Holidays Are Holey Days

How do you define holidays? 

Merriam-Webster defines it this way ...

hol-i-days noun \ˈhä-lə-ˌdāz\
     1 : holy days
     2 : days on which one is exempt from work
     3 : days marked by a general suspension of work in commemoration of an event

For those who grieve, holidays can seem like holey-days.

holey-days adjective \ˈhō-lēˌdāz \
     : days having holes

Holidays often feel like holey days ~ days that remind us that there is, and always will be, a hole in our hearts and homes. A hole in the form of an empty chair, a missing member of the family, a feeling that life will never be "normal" again. A hole formed when a parent is no longer living, or a child is taken way too soon by a terminal illness or accident. Perhaps a hole created by a prodigal who has chosen to just walk away.

Regardless the reason for the hole, literature on death and grief tell us it is actually healing to acknowledge it. Jesus said ~ Blessed are those who mourn [who feel the pain and express it], for they shall be comforted. 

These holey days can be a precious time to remember ~ to share stories, laughter and tears about the loved one who is no longer present with you. Holey days are a wonderful time to transform the relationship from one of presence to one of memory. For it has been said ~ memories are where the proof of life are stored.

I am very familiar with the emotions of holey days. I know the horror of brain death, and the conflicting emotions of signing papers to donate my sixteen year old son's organs to save the lives of strangers. I know the sorrow of having an estranged parent who chose to not be in my life for almost 10 years. I know there will always be times I wish I could call my mom.

I know how God has used all things to glorify Himself and draw others to His kingdom. I have seen how His hand move to bring value to my loss. And I know that I will one day see my loved ones and forever live with them in eternity.

But all the knowledge in the world does not change the fact that these special days, these holidays, often feel like holey days to my grieving heart. It is a time to give ourselves grace; to offer grace to those who grieve.

So I give myself permission to acknowledge the pain as I feel that weight of grief bearing down on me. I purposefully bring to mind the precious memories of each loved one, even though these memories may bring tears to my eyes and an aching in my heart. For this I know, memories are the proof that they will always be a part of us.

To speak the name of the dead is to make them live again.

Egyptian Proverb

Redeem : Repair : Restore : Renew

re·deem

verb \ri-‘dēm\

1    a : to buy back

      b : to get or win back

2: to free from what distresses or harms: as

a : to free from captivity by payment of ransom

b : to extricate from or help to overcome something detrimental

c : to release from blame or debt : clear

d : to free from the consequences of sin

3: to change for the better: reform

4: repair, restore

5    a : to free from a lien by payment of an amount secured thereby

 b (1) : to remove the obligation of by payment  (2) : to exchange for something of value

 c : to make good : fulfill

6    a : to atone for : expiate

       b (1) : to offset the bad effect of (2) : to make worthwhile : retrieve

Source: Merriam-Webster Online Dictionary

What comes to mind when you hear the word, redeem?

One childhood memory immediately comes to my mind. Back in the day, I would redeem my soda bottle for a nickel at the store. I returned the bottle to be reused, recycled, and refilled again.

Another image is my mother used to redeem S and H Green Stamps. She redeemed her booklets filled with stamps for free merchandise from their catalog.

Many thoughts come to mind from my faith tradition ~ from the verses in scripture and words of hymns that tell of being redeemed ~ a price paid to free me from the wages of sin and death.

When I started this blog almost three years ago, I knew I would call it, Redeeming the Future. As I looked at the events of my life, I did not want the lean years to devour the rich years. I realized that, like me, there were others who may one day find themselves on a similar journey ~ on a difficult path filled with obstacles that obscured their hope of ever experiencing peace.

What truly comes to mind when I hear the word redeem are two powerful words that are signposts along my journey ~

HOPE ~ a strong belief that there is a pathway through difficult times that can bring us to a healing place; a place where we can once again know the joy of experiencing peace

TRANSFORMATION ~ the decision to not be destroyed, but to be transformed by those things that seem to be quite literally more than I can bear

I am not just another Pollyanna ~ an excessively or blindly optimistic person. The message of Redeeming the Future is not a pie-in-the-sky kind of gospel. Redeeming the future does not take away the reality of the pain, loss, and disappointments of the past or the present. But that simple six-letter word ~ redeem ~ provides a new lens through which I can look back at the difficult times with hope, knowing that I can be transformed; I can become stronger in the broken places.

I love the following quote by author Maria Robinson ~

Nobody can go back and start a new beginning,

but anyone can start today and make a new ending.

And that, my friend, is all about Redeeming the Future.

So, what comes to mind when YOU hear the word, redeem?

Irresistible Invitation

I am often amazed at how much news coverage there is when a state dinner takes place at the White House.  The limos. The tuxedos and gowns. The pomp and circumstance.

Everyone seems to want the details ~ from the design of the place settings to the details of the menu; who's in and who's out.

Now we even have White House party crashers who somehow get in under the radar to see for themselves what is going on, even though they never received an invitation!

Truthfully, I really do not find the thought of attending a state dinner very exciting ~ not that I would ever expect to be invited. Seriously ... How many pieces of silverware does one person need to enjoy a meal? How much does a dress need to cost to be acceptable? Everything about the event seems to revolve around outward appearances.

I am reminded of an invitation of a different sort.  One where there are no expectations. No need to put on airs ~ just come as you are.  In fact, the invitation states for those who accept, to put away all pretense, forget about outward appearance, and become real.

Incredible!  

Irresistible!

Nourishment for your body and soul, absolutely free!

This invitation truly embodies the spirit of this blog.  For I am firmly convinced that it is possible to redeem the future, transform those things that seek to destroy me, and find a healing place for my heart and soul. This invitation offers me a place to come just as I am ~ with all my baggage, sorrows, disappointments and fears.

This invitation beckons me to that healing place of transformation described in Psalm 85, where ~

“Mercy and Truth have met each other: 
Justice and Peace have kissed.”

The invitations have been sent.  The question remains ~ am I willing to accept this Irresistible Invitation?  To look at my life through the lens of TRUTH  and receive His MERCY?  To accept His JUSTICE which ushers in PEACE? He invites me to come to this healing place, to attend His banquet, to allow Him to bring restoration and transformation.

It really is an irresistible invitation!

Footnote: The original copy of this invitation is in Old Testament writings, believed to be written sometime around the Babylonian captivity, near 580 BC. The invitation is no less irresistible today.

Come, all you who are thirsty,come to the waters;
and you who have no money,come, buy and eat!
Come, buy wine and milk without money and without cost.
Why spend money on what is not bread,
and your labor on what does not satisfy?
Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good,
and your soul will delight in the richest of fare.
Give ear and come to me;hear me, that your soul may live.
I will make an everlasting covenant with you,
my faithful love promised to David.
See, I have made him a witness to the peoples,
a leader and commander of the peoples.
Surely you will summon nations you know not,
and nations that do not know you will hasten to you,
because of the LORD your God,the Holy One of Israel,
for he has endowed you with splendor."
Seek the LORD while he may be found;
call on him while he is near.
Let the wicked forsake his way and the evil man his thoughts.
Let him turn to the LORD, and he will have mercy on him,
and to our God, for he will freely pardon.
For as the heavens are higher than the earth,
so are my ways higher than your ways
and my thoughts than your thoughts.
For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven
and do not return there but water the earth,
making it bring forth and sprout,
giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater,
shall my word be that goes out from my mouth;
it shall not return to me empty,
it shall accomplish that which I purpose,
and shall succeed in the thing for which I sent it.

Isaiah 55:1-11

What a Difference an * Made!

It was at my high school graduation when I realized that I had believed a lie about myself for many years. When June comes each year, I am reminded how words can destroy or transform the way people view themselves and the future.

I distinctly remember the night of my graduation from Lakewood High School. We were all so done with school by the time that night finally arrived. We marched into the stadium to our high school band playing their best rendition of Pomp and Circumstance.

I remember I walked next to Narcy Hogan.  Narcy was the smartest person I knew. She had a gold tassel on her cap as well as a gold stole and cords draped around her neck, showing the world her academic success. I was proud to call Narcy my friend. We had been friends since our days together at Herbert Hoover Junior High. And now we were experiencing the last event of our high school days together.

We took our seats in the metal chairs set up in rows on the football field. I opened the program we were handed as we walked in. I looked through the order of events, the special guests and when the choir was to sing. Then I began to read the names of the graduates.

When I came to my name, I noticed something unusual. There it was, followed an asterisk.

Bonnie Jean Goodrell*

I leaned over and asked the smartest person I knew ~ Why is there an asterisk by my name?

I'm so glad Narcy was not only smart, but also thoughtful and kind.

She excitedly replied, It means you graduated with honors!

With honors?

Really? So many thoughts ran through my mind during that graduation ceremony. I remember standing on the risers with my choir to sing No Man is an Island and You'll Never Walk Alone. I know I walked across the platform to receive my diploma. But in all honesty, I was not really there ~ at that time; at the place. In my mind, I was no longer sitting on the football field of Lakewood High School.

As soon as Narcy spoke those words, It means you graduated with honors! ~ I was transported back to Oliver Wendall Holmes Elementary School. I was running my hand across the tiny desks. I was playing on the playground with the slide and swings and monkey bars. I was sitting inside the classrooms looking out the windows. All of those things flashed through my mind. And then, as if someone placed a record on the turntable, and slowed the rpm's way down, I heard the voices of my elementary teachers. They seemed to be repeating the same thing, again and again, in that slow-motion kind of voice that just stays with you ~

Bonnie has so much potential, if only . . .
Bonnie could be such a good student if she would . . .
If only Bonnie would . . .

Those are the words I heard year after year from my teachers. Those are the comments I read on the back of my report card when my mother brought it home from parent conferences. And sadly, those are the things I grew to believe about myself. Because that is what I was told.

But something changed that evening in 1970 as I sat in the metal chairs placed neatly in rows on the football field of Lakewood High School. One small * asterisk made all the difference in how I viewed myself, my potential, my future.

You know what? I drove back to Lakewood High School the next morning. I walked up to the window of our small student store on campus. And for $1.00, I bought my gold tassel. I never had the chance to wear it ~ to let others know I had potential. But I wanted it for myself. To remind me that words can hurt or heal.  Words can destroy or transform a child's view of how they see themselves. Comments made in frustration, even if meant as motivation, crush a child's spirit.

It brings tears to my eyes every time I retell this story.  To think that I did not believe in the grades I received in my high school classes that qualified me to graduate with honors. I believed the words that played on a tape in my head. I had believed a lie. Words spoken about me years before that I allowed to rob me of future joys.

Yes, it's June and time for graduation.  It is both a time of excitement ~ to think about what is to come, and a time of reflection ~ to remember the many experiences that have taken place to bring each student to this place and time. I wonder what words these graduates will hear as they reflect upon this journey?

I pray they hear words that transform and redeem their futures!

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.

The Garden of Gethsemane

Today is Maundy Thursday ~ also known as Holy Thursday, Covenant Thursday, or Thursday of Mysteries. For Christians around the world, Maundy Thursday is the holy day falling on the Thursday before Easter. It is the day when Christ served His disciples what is commonly known as the Last Supper of Christ. As evening fell, Jesus and His disciples crossed through the Kidron Valley and climbed the Mount of Olives to enter the Garden of Gethsemane.

For most people of faith, Easter Sunday is the most holy of all days in the faith. I am grateful for the Empty Tomb, which brings the promise of resurrection and the blessed hope of reunion with loved ones who have gone before.

Others consider Good Friday as the most significant day of Holy Week. For indeed, it was the Cross which held the final sacrifice, the shed blood of the Lamb, which provides the forgiveness of sins.

But today ~ the Thursday before Easter ~ I find myself contemplating the last night of Jesus' life. Like Him, I am drawn to Gethsemane. Here in this garden on the Mount of Olives, Jesus came to wrestle with the pain and sorrow that was to come to him. Here in this place Jesus came to pour out his fear, to protest what was to be, to plead with the Father to let this cup of death pass from Him. And here, to submit to the Father's will.

Gethsemane ~ a curious place for Jesus to come the night before his crucifixion. Yet, not surprising, as so much of His teaching was filled with mystery and hidden meaning. In Hebrew, this place is called Gat Shemanim, meaning literally an oil press. Here in the grove of olive trees just outside of Jerusalem was a stone press where the olives were placed on the huge stone. As another large stone was turned, the weight of that stone crushed the fruit and forced the precious oil to drain down into containers below.

Gethsemane ~ a place to be crushed, a place to be transformed ~ is where Jesus came. Some dictionaries offer Gethsemane as a synonym for a place or occasion of great mental or spiritual suffering.

Gethsemane ~ where Jesus allowed his pleadings and protests to be transformed into submission and obedience.

Gethsemane ~ where Jesus climbed into the lap of Abba Father and found His anguish replaced with acceptance.

So often I find myself with Him in the Garden ~ thankful for the Cross and the Empty Tomb ~ but needing to linger a little while in this place, as I seek to be transformed rather than destroyed, by the events of this fallen world.

Oh, may I bring the hurts and the sorrows, the injustices and the inequities of life to this place, and may I leave transformed into an instrument of His peace.


Painting: Christ in Agony by Michael O'Brien

The Aroma of His Glory

There is a sensory memory that I will carry with me throughout my life ~ it is the delicious smell of Mom’s pot roast, simmering with oven-browned potatoes and carrots. The rich aroma filled our senses each Sunday as we arrived home from church!

It is amazing to me that sensory experiences are so strong. Scientists describe it as odor memory, that is, our ability to remember the scent and the memory connected to the scent. In fact, they have found that only two synapses separate the olfactory nerve from the amygdala, that part of the brain where we experience emotions. That explains why these aromas from childhood form such a strong connection for me ~ like a time and date stamp ~ they connect me not only to Mom’s delicious cooking but the deeper emotion of family dinners together..

So it comes as no surprise that God would chose the metaphor of aroma when he talks about how we live our lives. Paul writes in Ephesians 5:1-2 that when we live a life of love, our very lives become an offering, a fragrant sacrifice to God.

Therefore be imitators of God, as beloved children; and walk in love, just as Christ also loved you and gave Himself up for us, an offering and a sacrifice to God as a fragrant aroma.

This metaphor of aroma is both powerful and personal to me. When our sixteen year old son died, I wrestled with questions of meaning and purpose. Why would a loving God allow this tragedy? What benefit could come from the death of my son? How could this tragedy bring God glory?

I distinctly remember the day I read Paul’s words in II Corinthians 2. Paul writes that our lives can also be an aroma of Christ’s glory to those who seek him.

But thanks be to God, who in Christ always leads us in triumphal procession, and through us spreads the fragrance of the knowledge of him everywhere. For we are the aroma of Christ to God among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing, to one a fragrance from death to death, to the other a fragrance from life to life.

I realized that it was not Scott’s death that would bring God glory. It was my response to Scott’s death that had the power to be an aroma of Christ's glory and eternal life.

I firmly believe that Satan intended to gain a victory through Scott’s death; that this loss would destroy our family's hope in the promises of God. Yes, we felt broken and confused. Yes, we struggled to redefine our theology on a daily basis as we sought to understand this tremendous loss through God’s perfect will. But in time, with God’s grace and mercy, we are being transformed not destroyed by this loss.

Perhaps theologian John Piper expresses my thoughts more clearly in his book, God is the Gospel.

The supreme value of the glory of Christ revealed in the gospel is what makes Satan so furious with the gospel. Satan is not mainly interested in causing us misery. He is mainly interested in making Christ look bad. He hates Christ. And he hates the glory of Christ. He will do all he can to keep people from seeing Christ as glorious. The gospel is God’s instrument for liberating people from exulting in self to exulting in Christ. Therefore Satan hates the gospel.

The events of this fallen world are real. Divorce, the death of a loved one, a rebellious child, upside-down mortgages, economic hardships, layoffs . . . the list goes on. These are painful, gut-wrenching situations. Each one has the potential to destroy us. But I believe we have a choice in every situation ~ to be destroyed or transformed. The choice is ours ~ to be an aroma of Christ’s glory to those who are being saved and those who are perishing.  Will we be a fragrance of death and destruction, or a fragrance of life and transformation?

Oh, may the aroma of Christ's glory pour out of me.

Love That Does Not Disappoint

Yesterday I read a tip on how to reduce stress in my life.

Don't believe for a minute . . . you'll get the number of servings the recipe says you will . . . you can perform a complex computer task with a single click of the mouse . . . your call is important to them . . . the "push here on red" button will get you across the street any faster . . . you're indispensable to your company . . . your cake will look anything like the one illustrated on the box . . . the battery will last anywhere near what they claim. Get smart. Lower your expectations.

That's right! I can reduce my stress in life if I don't believe the claims, think of myself as dispensable, lower my expectations, and basically, just plan to be disappointed!

Know what? I am not only stressed by that tip-of-the-day, I am disappointed! Lower my expectations? Settle for less?

Don't take me wrong. I know I can’t believe all of the claims I hear.  I agree there are times when I do trust them and find myself stressed. Like when I spend two hours assembling something that clearly states on the box can be assembled in five easy steps.

I began thinking about Valentine's Day in light of this stress-reducing tip. Many people have high expectations of how they will feel loved today. Many have a little jingle playing in their heads ~ every kiss begins with Kay ~ and dream of a small velvet box filled with something that sparkles! Many envision how the events of the day will fall into place to create the ultimate romantic evening. And, I predict, many will be stressed out if their valentines do not live up to their hopes and expectations.

Today my valentine is not feeling so good. In fact, my valentine is asleep on the couch hoping the combination of decongestants, antihistamines and cough suppressants work its mojo to help him feel better.

The sight of my valentine lying there in his sweats could be cause for disappointment. I mean ~ nobody is receiving breakfast in bed this morning and there won't be much hugging and kissing going on. It is just not going to be that kind of day!

When we base our view of love on what the world claims, we are in for disappointment!

I am thankful that there is a love that does not disappoint; not based on circumstances or the actions of others. A love that is as much an act of the will as it is a response of the heart . . . that seeks the highest good of another . . . with claims that are trustworthy and believable. It is a love that transforms circumstances that seeks to disappoint.

Love is patient; love is kind and is not jealous;

Love does not brag and is not arrogant,

Does not act unbecomingly; it does not seek its own,

Is not provoked, does not take into account a wrong suffered,

Does not rejoice in unrighteousness, but rejoices with the truth;

Bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

I Corinthians 13:4-7

Here is a new tip-for-the-day for Valentine’s Day ~

Don't believe in what the world calls love . . . you will get what you deserve . . . it is all about you . . . love comes in small velvet boxes . . . it is alright if he yells at you ~ at least he comes home at night . . . she better look great . . . if it doesn’t feel right, find someone new . . . Get smart. Raise your expectations.

Decide today to embrace

a love that does not disappoint . . . 

and expect your relationship to be transformed.

What If I Knew . . .

What if I knew today would be the last day I had with my child?

Would it transform the words we exchanged?

Would it alter the non-verbal messages I expressed?

Would I focus less energy on the chores left undone?

Would I linger a little longer as we hugged goodbye?

The morning of February 5th, 1996 began like any other in our home. There was no forewarning that it would be my last day at home with our precious son, Scott. But at 11:36 a.m., I received the phone call all parents dreads. Your son has been in an accident.  Scott was declared brain dead on February 6, 1996.

As I reflect on our last days together . . .

I am grateful for Scott’s humble spirit on February 4th that caused him to seek reconciliation and forgiveness.

I am grateful for our loving and fun conversation that morning.

I am grateful I took time ~ on that particularly hectic day of school for me ~ to say Goodbye and I love you.

Psalm 90:12 reads ~

Teach us to use wisely all the time we have. 

Oh that His Wisdom, His Grace, and His Love would transform relationships in our hearts and homes.

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!

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.

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

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.”

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.

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.

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.

Wedding Showers in June

I am told
there is an old Italian phrase
about rainy weddings ~
Sposa bagnata, Sposa fortunata.
It means, Wet Bride, Fortunate Bride!

Eleven years ago this Saturday, on June 6, 1998, our house was filled with excitement. Amy and Jeff were getting married in a few short hours!

We spent that day decorating the lovely yard of the Jackson's home beside the Kings River. Friends brought the bouquets of wild flowers they had grown to decorate each table. Twinkle lights and white tulle draped the edge of the yard and the center aisle where Tony would escort our daughter. Amy and her bridal party were upstairs in the Jackson home, having their hair and make-up done. It was a wonderful day and a fairy tale wedding was in the making!

Then, about 4:30 pm, the clear blue sky darkened. Out of nowhere, two storms merged over central California and the rain began. It did not just drizzle or sprinkle. No, it was a downpour. Although sunset was not for another four hours, the sky was dark. Soon lightning and thunder filled the sky. And the fairy tale wedding, the beautifully decorated tables, the white tulle and twinkle lights, were drenched.

Records from the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA), which date back to the 1800's, state for June 6th:

1998: An evening storm drops 1.80 inch of rain in six hours on the Fresno- Yosemite International Airport, part of a total of 1.88 inch for the event. This set records in Fresno for the wettest calendar day in June, the wettest June overall and the wettest 6-and 24-hour periods in the month of June. Across Fresno and Tulare Counties over $27 million dollars in damage occurred to crops damaged by hail and trees downed by the wind. The Reedley area was especially hard hit with 414.8 million in damages.

I remember the tears that rolled down my checks as I watched 400 guests wade down that long Jackson driveway under their umbrellas to join us for this blessed event. Amy had dreamed of an outdoor wedding. Hoping the rain would stop, we decided to have the reception first! All our wonderful friends helped set up the buffet lines under the carport. Guests walked on soggy towels to keep from slipping on the wet cement.

It did not stop raining that evening, but it did not keep us from having a wedding. We hastily set up the candelabras on the hearth, and guests found a way to see or hear from throughout the house; some were able to see and hear the ceremony. The music began, and Amy came down the winding staircase on Tony's arm. She was so beautiful, and what had been planned as a lovely outdoor wedding was transformed into an intimate setting around the hearth of this welcoming home.

I have favorite snapshots in my mind, moments I have tucked away of the day of my daughter's wedding. But there is one memory which truly symbolized for me the choice that was made that evening.

As we set things up for the ceremony to take place in the house, we made sure we dried everything off as we brought it inside. We lit all the candles in the candelabras to be sure they would light for the ceremony. But we forgot to dry and test light the Unity Candle.

When it came to that part of the ceremony, Amy and Jeff picked up their candles to join their individual flames together into a single flame. But the Unity Candle would not light. The wick was thoroughly soaked. After many tries, Amy removed the Unity Candle from its stand, blew her candle out, and set Jeff's candle in the place of the Unity Candle.

I remember all of us laughing with them at the situation. But as I look back on that moment; Amy's actions at that time speak volumes of how she and Jeff would approach their life together.

I know; fairy tale weddings are what most little girls dream of having someday. But too many fairy tale weddings end in broken promises, bitter custody disputes, or merely settle for relationships that have more to do with selfish desires than unconditional love.

What I saw that night, sitting on an ottoman in the Jackson's living room, witnessing my daughter and her husband make vows to one another before God and these witnesses was an act of commitment to take a higher path through life. The rain could have destroyed the wedding. It could have brought out the worst in these two young people. But they chose to find a path of transformation.

Married life is not always sunshine and blue sky. There will be storms and times when it seems the rain just will not go away. Some may make a choice to be destroyed by these times; others will be transformed in spite of them. I am so proud of the marriage that came from that rainy wedding night eleven years ago. I am grateful to watch Amy and Jeff love, honor and respect one another, in good times and bad, as they raise up another generation who are learning that when life sends a storm, you pull on your boots and pop up your umbrella, and find joy in the puddles!

Happy Anniversary,
Amy and Jeff.