Being Shown the Way

It has been a season for the books. I am sure I’ve written similar phrases periodically through these days as I have grappled with and processed it along the way. 

 Six months of time and transition.  Mom’s passing last spring, already six months ago (the reality comes in waves that both of our parents are now gone, punctuated again this week on what would have been Dad’s birthday).  Another one of our children was married, there is a continual whirlwind pace at work, sorting Mom’s house and our childhood memories and the layers of decades that were tidily packed onto neat shelves in her home.  All of this came on the heels of a rough and heartbreaking season at the place we’d been a part of for forty years and the settling in that we’ve begun in a new little gathering that is being rooted in the soil of God’s goodness and will as we listen in prayer and hear and care for one another.  But life’s road is bumpy at times, no matter who you are.

Our community is in the throes of an epidemic of heroin overdoses and the resulting effects that it takes on our police and rescue teams and hospitals, as well as the families that are being torn apart by the addictions that seem to be running the show.  Our nation, too, is facing an election that has many of us scratching our heads and one in which the outcome of our ballots will be significant. 

 And so, one morning last week I was feeling the squeeze of all of this.  Granted, in the midst of the challenges, there have been many sweet moments and the evidence of God’s stunning ability to BE God in the face of any difficulties, but it has pressed me still.  That morning I had a more than vague sense of being in a tight tunnel, not knowing exactly what the outcome would be when some of these things were resolved.  I have been off my “game” in these busier than normal months, out of rhythm, not seeing or feeling where I am heading.  And in the middle of talking with Him about it, He floated an image to me.  It was kind of like receiving a postcard from a friend who was on holiday, who could enjoy a great scene because they weren’t trapped in the wrappings and stresses of everyday.  Many messages that God sends have that feel…clarity brought into the muck.  It is one of the things that has enamored me toward this sovereign being who loves and guides.  This message was no less impacting than any of His others.  I am not in a tunnel; I am in a birth canal.  Yes, I am being squeezed.  Yes, it is dark.  And He is at work to move me as I go.  He is good and bringing me through this time and space toward something new.  I have experienced it before…the discomfort of transition as I am being moved to new seasons and spaces.  This one has been primarily centered around losses, so I had missed some of the perspective that it is also the path to new things. 

 No matter how far along we are in the journey, we have a God who is always doing His work to heal and restore and work deeply.  We have no reason to fear.  I had gotten sidetracked from some of that hope in the busyness and am grateful that He spoke His greater truth to me again and called me back.  No matter where I am going, I am always home in Him.  He is a good land and a sure foundation.

Photograph from morguefile.com by Chriele78

A Great Idea

I wanted to share a practical tip due to the experience of settling the estate of parents.  I am grateful that in the case of working with my sisters through these last six months since mom’s passing, things have gone very well.  Part of the reason is because we’ve had time to sort, decide, and distribute slowly, which made it easier emotionally and eased the whole of the process, and because we’ve tried to consider each other well as decisions have been made. 

 

But I wanted to pass along what John’s parents had done to prepare for that time for their children.  I’ve never heard of anyone doing it the way they did, but I think it was a gift for the family in what is often a turbulent time that divides deeply. 

 

John’s dad was an engineer for Westinghouse and his career included he and Shirley living overseas for almost a decade in two different countries.  During those years they traveled in the surrounding areas and acquired some interesting things.

 

In the mid-1980s, when they were in their early 60s and settled back in the States, they created a list of everything in their possession that they felt held worth…furniture passed through the family, furniture they had purchased, items owned by past generations, objects bought during their travels, etc.  Big and small items were included.

 

The plan was this:  Send the list to all four of their children asking what items they would be interested in.  Each one marked their list and sent it back to their parents.  The lists were then considered and all the items assigned to reflect both interest and an equitable monetary distribution to each.  That list was then sent back to all four children so that everyone knew who would eventually be getting what. 

 

It was a relatively simple process, let everyone weigh in, and left the final decision to the parents.  Most of the time, a will sets many of the parameters for the estate, but often the smaller things are not included and defined.  This idea proved to be a very helpful way of moving though that time and worth sharing. 

 

Photograph from morguefile.com by TheBrassGlass

Where Do You Live?

“Our habits become our habitations.”  Richard R. Niebuhr, from Streams of Grace

 

Photograph from morguefile.com by Maltaguy1

Invited. Belonging. Secure.

I honestly don’t know how to do life.  I find it incredibly complicated much of the time.  I struggle over how to keep all the plates spinning on their skinny poles…insurance and taxes, phone plans, household chores and work and maintaining relationships, and reaching beyond my family borders to friends and strangers.  I’m not too keen on some aspects of “doing business” and am more inclined to the internal things where I turn over the gem that’s in my hand at the moment and examine its facets from various angles, full of wonder about some small thing I have noticed and what truth it reflects.  I am more of a poet-of-sorts and artist, yet have a pretty strong inclination for a design, a plan, and a purpose also. It kind of explains how I sometimes drive myself a little crazy figuring out priorities and how I will respond to life.

It also explains how I have settled into this adventure of faith.  I find it extremely comforting to be in the arms of a Father who loves me, who is the most brilliant being ever and has solved a whole passel of “impossibilities” that I have witnessed first-hand.  He has astonishingly good and beautiful and purposeful plans, and has never expected me to figure it all out—though He loves it when my mind, body, heart, soul, and spirit (along with my time and resources) are given to His ideas.  He loves it when we want to dig for His secrets.  But He lets us be His kids, with the messy faces and skinned knees we often have as we curl up in His lap to hear His sound words again. 

I am in my early 60s and am thrilled with the prospects of how much there still is to discover.  I am well rooted. And I am still green in so many ways.  I love this adventure of faith and all the layers there are to find.  I don’t know much.  But He doesn’t press me to figure it out alone.  I have companions on the road, brilliant mentors, sages, daring adventurers, and sound thinkers who share with me what they have seen and gleaned along the way.  God will give me as much of the truth as I want, delving as deep as I want to go, and invites me still be the kid who can get tucked in and kissed at the end of the day.  A pretty awesome life. 

Photograph from morguefile.com by ashishkumar2287

Our Denim Days

I am humored by the funny little ironies of life.  Consider this:  The Levites were one of the twelve tribes of Israel, and set apart for the duties of the sanctuary.  Some of them were priests, and some were the ones who tended to the contents of the Tabernacle—including the sacred articles within it made of wood and metal, the fabrics, and the structure itself. 

The Levi Strauss company, started in the late 1800s also dealt with fabric and was made more popular when metal was added to the durable denim, as small rivets, to keep the garment strong at the points of strain.  (You probably see where this is going.)  It was a good choice of apparel for those with demanding physical jobs of the times: cowboys, lumberjacks, and railroad workers. 

Levi’s became a basic item of clothing in the 1970s when the culture shifted to a focus of simplicity and “back to earth” efforts and blue jeans were the garb of choice for a whole young generation.  Coincidentally it was also the time of the Jesus movement, and I can’t help but wonder if God was chuckling, seeing how many of His young and eager followers donning denim jeans, overalls, and maxi skirts (often a Levi’s label) were crisscrossing the country, His word in their hands and hearts, hungry to learn, and digging into the gardens of their community and the restoration of Eden.  We were little priests getting our first taste of His goodness and sharing it with those around us.  A feast of days.

Whatever age you happen to be, whatever garment you chose to wear this morning, remember how durable the promises of God are, the fiber of the life you have, and the rivets of His grace and help that will support you through every moment of strain.  We have an immensely strong God to count on, and one with a great sense of humor and a heart that is totally full of love and at work for our well-being.  He is big enough to hold us close and guide us, aware of what is weighing on us today and more than enough to help us through it.  Keep going.  We are made for this life of faith and trust.  It is a strong fiber.

Photograph from morguefile.com by Xenia

The Great Investment

Forty years today of walking alongside.  We’ve built a relationship, a family, made a home, contributed to a community.  We have birthed, nourished, and nurtured.  We have worked together and independently, at our jobs, in our home.  We’ve played…music, art, expressions of worship, explorations of rock walls (several kinds) and craft stores and thrift shops, and supported each other’s crazy ideas and entrepreneurial efforts (several kinds here too).  We’ve laughed and we’ve cried.  We’ve made plenty of mistakes; we are certainly still learning.   We’ve not always gotten our way—it’s a lesson of sharing and compromise and figuring out what love looks like and how in the world you do it.  We have loved, and we have hurt; we’ve forgiven, and been forgiven.  We are grateful for the adventure.  Its twists and turns haven’t ended and we don’t expect them to.  And most importantly, we’ve seen God’s faithfulness to us through the sunshine and the storms.  There is so much to be thankful for.

 

Photograph from morguefile.com by hotblack