Thomas Merton, Trappist Monk, poet, and contemplative writer, wrote a poem entitled, “There Is No Road to Grace’s House.” The inspiration for his poem was a picture of a house sent to him by a young child, Grace Sisson. Grace’s picture was typical of many pictures created by little girls: house positioned on a hill, smoke rising from the chimney, windows with curtains, knotted trees with animals peeking out of the holes… Of course, there was a huge, brilliant sun and a sprinkle of clouds in the sky and, oh yes, a friendly, smiling dog.
My first-best-friend, Mary, and I spent hours together coloring such pictures, one after another. We were like the artists who paint for the starving artist art sales—painting essentially the same picture over and over again, with minor variations. We wouldn’t stop until all the scrap paper my mom provided was converted into works of art.
What caught my attention in Merton’s poem is that he mentions four times that Grace has not included a road. No driveway; no brick path winding from the picket fence gate to the inviting front door; no way at all to get to Grace’s beautiful house. Merton’s repetition of this seeming oversight offers implications for our spiritual walk.
Sometimes there are days (or weeks or months) when, try as I might, I feel like I can’t find the road to Grace’s (God’s) House. There’s got to be one! The Bible talks about the “straight and narrow” road to the Kingdom of Heaven: “Small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it.”[1] It sounds like I’m definitely not alone in my struggle!
Wouldn’t it be nice if finding the road to Grace’s house were as simple as doing a Mapquest search? With map and step-by-step directions, I could navigate myself right up to the heavenly mansion—with nary a wrong turn—and approach the throne of God with my complaints, questions, and numerous requests.
But could it be that there really is no road?
Perhaps no road is necessary because Grace knows exactly where I am and comes to me, before I even send out a distress signal. Scott Peck, author of The Road Less Traveled, states, “We do not come to grace, grace comes to us. Try as we might to obtain grace, it may yet elude us. We may seek it not, yet it will find us.”[2] What wonderful news for those of us who are directionally challenged!
In the parable of the lost sheep, Jesus posed this question: "Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Does he not leave the ninety-nine in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it?” [3] And then—get this—the shepherd rejoices and throws a party! Isaiah, the Old Testament prophet, says, “We all, like sheep, have gone astray, each of us has turned to his own way…” [4] When we wander far a field and lose our way, what comfort it is to know that our Shepherd is seeking us.
Maybe no road is needed because Grace’s path mysteriously intersects with, my own. "Stand at the crossroads and look; ask for the ancient paths, ask where the good way is, and walk in it, and you will find rest for your souls.” [5] I can visualize myself standing expectantly at the crossroads, where my life intersects with Grace, my eyes straining for my first sight of her.Grace coming to me; I like the sound of that!
And Grace will come again: Hours before he died, Jesus told his disciples, “Let not your heart be troubled; ye believe in God, believe also in Me. In My Father’s house are many mansions; if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you to Myself; that where I am, there ye may be also…" [6]
When I was an adolescent, we sang this scripture in choir and the verse and tune are a promise firmly planted in my heart. The morning that my father died, sitting on the foot of his hospital bed, I picked up his Bible from the bedside table and opened it to the page he had marked. Highlighted in yellow was this very passage. I surmised that only hours before he died, he read this passage, knowing that Jesus was coming for him soon.
“So, is there a road to Grace’s house?” rational, inquiring minds want to know! As I bring a close to this pondering, I’m remembering the final scene in the popular movie, Back to the Future. “Doc” (Emmet Brown, played by the zany Christopher Lloyd) has returned from the future to get Marty (Michael J. Fox) and his girlfriend, Jennifer, because, “Something has to be done about your kids!” Marty and Jennifer trustingly climb into the De Lorean, Doc’s time machine. “Hey Doc, we better back up, we don’t have enough road,” Marty advises. “Roads? replies Doc, as he coolly lower his futuristic sun glasses over his eyes. “Where we’re going, we don’t need roads.” Is there a spiritual parallel here? I’ll let you chew on this awhile…
[1] Matthew 7:14
[2] Peck, M. Scott, Recovery Devotional Bible, “The Welcoming of Grace,” p. 1182
[3] Luke 15:3-7 NIV
[4] Isaiah 53:6 NIV
[5] Jeremiah 6:16 NIV
[6] John 14:1-6 KJV, C.S. Lewis, “Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket – safe, dark, motionless, airless – it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.” http://www.painterskeys.com/auth_search.asp?name=C.%20S.%20Lewis
Monday, October 29, 2007
Sunday, October 28, 2007
WILDFIRES -- October 27, 2007
In years past, my husband, Rex, and I have enjoyed gathering up fallen branches and cutting up dead trees in our woods and burning them. I was initially hesitant about doing this, not wanting to do harm to the environment that I love so much. The government’s proposal to reduce fires in national forests by clearing away the highly combustible dead wood got us thinking about doing the same. Our efforts were further inspired by the professional opinion of an arborist Rex knows who advocates clearing away debris to allow new plant life an opportunity to thrive.
Metaphorically and spiritually I also need to periodically clear away the “dead wood” in my life—those thoughts, beliefs, attitudes, and actions that clutter my path and trip me up on my spiritual journey. I consider myself to be a “good person, certainly not someone who needs to chain saw my way through massive fallen-ness, like major addictions (do chocolate and Dr. Pepper count?), infidelities, criminal conduct, etc., but, truth be told, I have some logs, not only in my eye, but in my life!
Since the fire that destroyed the home next door, and threatened our own home, I feel no desire to smell burning leaves and wood this fall. What used to be a charming aspect of the ambiance of autumn is now an all too vivid reminder of tragedy. As I write this, I am watching the latest news report on the California fires. My daughter, Beth, just recently moved back to Indiana after living and teaching in San Diego for three years. I am SO THANKFUL that she is not out there right now, but I share her anxiety for her California friends and their families.
This national disaster also takes me back to my two weeks with the Red Cross in Louisiana, following Hurricane Katrina. A part of me would like to go and help, but I do not feel the call, like I did with Katrina. I knew then, without a doubt, that I was supposed to go. It’s so unlike me to step out of my comfort zone, to go into the unknown—and all by my lonesome. That was obviously a God thing!
Wildfires have roared across the California landscape, fueled by the Santa Ana winds, for hundreds, maybe even million of years, and will probably continue to do so. Fires, floods, and other monumental disasters have ravaged the earth for eons (Despite the current controversy over humanity’s culpability in global warming!). So, too, “wildfires” will roar across the landscapes of our lives, sometimes due to our own carelessness in not attending to “dead wood,” and sometimes simply because lightning strikes. Most, if not all of us, bear the scars of having been struck by divorce or the death of a loved one, struck by a car—or cancer, depression, job loss…
Like Yellowstone National Park, in which 988,975 acres of forests were devastated by fire in 1988, we, too can survive the searing heat and destruction of life’s wildfires. I was awed and inspired the second time I visited Yellowstone and witnessed the rebirth that is taking place among the charred, lifeless spires of once thriving trees. Fertilized by ash, and miraculously re-seeded from pine cones programmed to release their seeds only under intense heat, Yellowstone’s forests remind me that God wastes nothing and uses everything, in nature and in human life, to bless His creation and his creatures.
When have you risen from the ashes of wildfire? How and where have you reseeded yourself, proving that God works all things for good for those who love him and live according to his ordinances? As we rise out of the ashes in our lives, we are uniquely enabled to offer support to others in the midst of their fire storms. We can empathize, respond with compassion, offer encouragement, and be living proof that grace can and will prevail.
The Lord went before them by day in a pillar of cloud
to lead them along the way,
and by night in a pillar of fire to give them light.
Exodus 13:21
Can you see God in the fire?
Metaphorically and spiritually I also need to periodically clear away the “dead wood” in my life—those thoughts, beliefs, attitudes, and actions that clutter my path and trip me up on my spiritual journey. I consider myself to be a “good person, certainly not someone who needs to chain saw my way through massive fallen-ness, like major addictions (do chocolate and Dr. Pepper count?), infidelities, criminal conduct, etc., but, truth be told, I have some logs, not only in my eye, but in my life!
Since the fire that destroyed the home next door, and threatened our own home, I feel no desire to smell burning leaves and wood this fall. What used to be a charming aspect of the ambiance of autumn is now an all too vivid reminder of tragedy. As I write this, I am watching the latest news report on the California fires. My daughter, Beth, just recently moved back to Indiana after living and teaching in San Diego for three years. I am SO THANKFUL that she is not out there right now, but I share her anxiety for her California friends and their families.
This national disaster also takes me back to my two weeks with the Red Cross in Louisiana, following Hurricane Katrina. A part of me would like to go and help, but I do not feel the call, like I did with Katrina. I knew then, without a doubt, that I was supposed to go. It’s so unlike me to step out of my comfort zone, to go into the unknown—and all by my lonesome. That was obviously a God thing!
Wildfires have roared across the California landscape, fueled by the Santa Ana winds, for hundreds, maybe even million of years, and will probably continue to do so. Fires, floods, and other monumental disasters have ravaged the earth for eons (Despite the current controversy over humanity’s culpability in global warming!). So, too, “wildfires” will roar across the landscapes of our lives, sometimes due to our own carelessness in not attending to “dead wood,” and sometimes simply because lightning strikes. Most, if not all of us, bear the scars of having been struck by divorce or the death of a loved one, struck by a car—or cancer, depression, job loss…
Like Yellowstone National Park, in which 988,975 acres of forests were devastated by fire in 1988, we, too can survive the searing heat and destruction of life’s wildfires. I was awed and inspired the second time I visited Yellowstone and witnessed the rebirth that is taking place among the charred, lifeless spires of once thriving trees. Fertilized by ash, and miraculously re-seeded from pine cones programmed to release their seeds only under intense heat, Yellowstone’s forests remind me that God wastes nothing and uses everything, in nature and in human life, to bless His creation and his creatures.
When have you risen from the ashes of wildfire? How and where have you reseeded yourself, proving that God works all things for good for those who love him and live according to his ordinances? As we rise out of the ashes in our lives, we are uniquely enabled to offer support to others in the midst of their fire storms. We can empathize, respond with compassion, offer encouragement, and be living proof that grace can and will prevail.
The Lord went before them by day in a pillar of cloud
to lead them along the way,
and by night in a pillar of fire to give them light.
Exodus 13:21
Can you see God in the fire?
Sunday, October 21, 2007
THE SPIRITUALITY OF WONDER - October 19, 2007
O Lord, you have searched me and you know me. You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar. You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways. Before a word is on my tongue you know it completely, O Lord. You hem me in—behind and before; you have laid your hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me too lofty for me to attain.
Psalm 139:1-6
When you are in a wondering mood, what captures your wonderment? Can you recall the last time you were enthralled by the mystery of grace? As adults, we’ve little time in our busy lives to stop and indulge in childlike wonder. Sadly, like an unused muscle, this precious, life-giving ability seems to atrophy.
As a new grandma, I love to watch baby Evan. In between his two primary activities—eating and sleeping—are brief episodes of wakefulness. His beautiful, wide eyes gaze around intently, taking in his surroundings. For three week old Evan, the world is fresh and captivating, just as it was for Adam and Eve when they opened their eyes for the first time in the Garden of Eden.
Just imagine experiencing things visually for the very first time, unencumbered by memories and interpretations. I wonder, does an infant see things exactly as God created them and exactly how he wants us to experience them—free of fear, skepticism, judgment... Imagine being completely open, without expectations, hidden agendas, or mixed motives… Just pure, unselfconscious communion and oneness with God’s creation and with our Creator. Just the thought of this makes me want to sing,
“Open the eyes of my heart Lord, open the eyes of my heart.
I want to see You. I want to see You.”
Paul Baloche
The eyes of my heart. I wonder, do the eyes of baby Evan’s heart see with such spiritual clarity and discernment?
We are surrounded by the wonder of God’s creative frenzy, yet somehow we often see right past it. Bouts of fear, worry, resentment, complaining, lethargy, grief, anger, sadness, _____________ (you fill in the blank) cloud our vision. The challenges of life, and the emotions they unleash, are crosspoints on which we teeter between growth and retreat.
Often it is in the very midst of a crisis that we encounter God’s living presence in life-changing ways. In The Ragamuffin Gospel, Brennan Manning, states that “the spirituality of wonder knows the world is charged with grace, that while sin and war, disease and death are terribly real, God’s loving presence and power in our midst are even more real.”
Recognizing a subtle, spine-tingling charge of grace, and responding with wonder, is sometimes even more elusive as we deal with the ordinary, mundane activities of daily life. For me, little children, furry animals, and nature are gifts of grace that, in the words of Joy Sawyer, “help me return to the sense of wonder at common, everyday events.” (Dancing to the Heartbeat of Redemption)
Little children are enthralled with the itty-bitty. When my daughter, Beth, was a tot, the sight of a daddy-longlegs was cause for excited squeals and uncontrollable bouncing, and all action came to an abrupt halt while she paused in rapt attention, fully absorbed in her latest discovery. Then would come the non-stop questions about every minute aspect of the newly discovered creature. And this process would be repeated with each-and-every daddy-longlegs she spied—every day—for an entire summer! A child’s wonder can be exhausting for a busy toddler’s parent! Oh, to have such vision!
Our heavenly parent welcomes our questions and delights in our curiosity and is never exhausted by our wonder. Whether you are in the midst of an overwhelming crisis or trudging through the tedium and frustrations of an ordinary day, I pray that you will have the eyes of an infant, the curiosity of a child, and the attentiveness of the psalmist, discovering anew a “world charged with grace.”
“I pray…that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened.”
St. Paul, Ephesians 1:18
Psalm 139:1-6
When you are in a wondering mood, what captures your wonderment? Can you recall the last time you were enthralled by the mystery of grace? As adults, we’ve little time in our busy lives to stop and indulge in childlike wonder. Sadly, like an unused muscle, this precious, life-giving ability seems to atrophy.
As a new grandma, I love to watch baby Evan. In between his two primary activities—eating and sleeping—are brief episodes of wakefulness. His beautiful, wide eyes gaze around intently, taking in his surroundings. For three week old Evan, the world is fresh and captivating, just as it was for Adam and Eve when they opened their eyes for the first time in the Garden of Eden.
Just imagine experiencing things visually for the very first time, unencumbered by memories and interpretations. I wonder, does an infant see things exactly as God created them and exactly how he wants us to experience them—free of fear, skepticism, judgment... Imagine being completely open, without expectations, hidden agendas, or mixed motives… Just pure, unselfconscious communion and oneness with God’s creation and with our Creator. Just the thought of this makes me want to sing,
“Open the eyes of my heart Lord, open the eyes of my heart.
I want to see You. I want to see You.”
Paul Baloche
The eyes of my heart. I wonder, do the eyes of baby Evan’s heart see with such spiritual clarity and discernment?
We are surrounded by the wonder of God’s creative frenzy, yet somehow we often see right past it. Bouts of fear, worry, resentment, complaining, lethargy, grief, anger, sadness, _____________ (you fill in the blank) cloud our vision. The challenges of life, and the emotions they unleash, are crosspoints on which we teeter between growth and retreat.
Often it is in the very midst of a crisis that we encounter God’s living presence in life-changing ways. In The Ragamuffin Gospel, Brennan Manning, states that “the spirituality of wonder knows the world is charged with grace, that while sin and war, disease and death are terribly real, God’s loving presence and power in our midst are even more real.”
Recognizing a subtle, spine-tingling charge of grace, and responding with wonder, is sometimes even more elusive as we deal with the ordinary, mundane activities of daily life. For me, little children, furry animals, and nature are gifts of grace that, in the words of Joy Sawyer, “help me return to the sense of wonder at common, everyday events.” (Dancing to the Heartbeat of Redemption)
Little children are enthralled with the itty-bitty. When my daughter, Beth, was a tot, the sight of a daddy-longlegs was cause for excited squeals and uncontrollable bouncing, and all action came to an abrupt halt while she paused in rapt attention, fully absorbed in her latest discovery. Then would come the non-stop questions about every minute aspect of the newly discovered creature. And this process would be repeated with each-and-every daddy-longlegs she spied—every day—for an entire summer! A child’s wonder can be exhausting for a busy toddler’s parent! Oh, to have such vision!
Our heavenly parent welcomes our questions and delights in our curiosity and is never exhausted by our wonder. Whether you are in the midst of an overwhelming crisis or trudging through the tedium and frustrations of an ordinary day, I pray that you will have the eyes of an infant, the curiosity of a child, and the attentiveness of the psalmist, discovering anew a “world charged with grace.”
“I pray…that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened.”
St. Paul, Ephesians 1:18
"JUST LIKE ME" - October 13, 2007
“Hey, Mom,” my son said, while rocking softly in the glider in his living room, “do you still hope I’ll have a kid ‘just like' me?” I gave him my Mona Lisa smile as I let this question sink in. In a split second, I time-traveled twenty-seven years back to the family room of our first house:
“Just put this one last block in the basket – just this one,” the fatigued and frustrated father said. The blond-haired two-year-old, sitting on the floor next to him, contemplated the one remaining brightly colored Fisher-Price block. Glancing at his father sideways out of the corners of his vivid blue eyes, he heaved the block across the family room where it bounced off the paneled wall and tumbled to the floor. The obstinate, PJ-clad toddler and the twenty-something, highly educated, professional-by-day father had been locked in this scrimmage for control for at least an eternal half-hour.
“Why can’t he just obey? Why won’t he put one lousy block in the stupid toy basket, for Pete’s sake!” my frazzled hubby exclaimed to me later that evening. Upstairs, his worthy opponent lay sleeping, secured for the night, the epitome of innocence and sweetness, his wiry arms enfolding, and his sweaty, rosy cheek resting on, his beloved stuffed monkey. Suppressing a smile, I pondered silently how alike father and son are in so many ways, including their “tenacity.”
“He’s so unbelievably stubborn!” Rex proclaimed as he fell into his recliner, his energy spent, his spirit sagging. How is it possible, he wondered, for a mature adult capable of abstract thinking, logic, and other sophisticated intellectual skills to be bested by a mere child who thinks concretely and can’t tell the difference between make-believe and reality? We both sighed deeply and turned our waning attention to the TV. My sigh was one of relief, so, so glad that it wasn’t my night for bedtime duty!
Returning from my reverie, I contemplated my son and his question. For years, we’ve teased Matt—in moments of his obstinacy—that we hope he has a child “just like” him. There are other qualities that we’ve jokingly wished upon his progeny, like his proclivity for climbing and his love for disappearing into clothes racks while shopping, all the while scaring his mother to death. His favorite Sesame Street character was Ernie—which should give you a glimmer of his lively personality.
So, do I wish that Matt has a kid just like him? Be careful now, Mom. This is a million dollar question. Do I want to call a friend or poll the audience? Nope. I’m on my own here. What’s my final answer? What makes this such a tricky question is that cradled in my son’s arms as he rocks, is his very own newborn son, Evan. (Late, breaking news flash: I interrupt this article to announce that I am a GRANDMA! Evan Jason Teeple was born at 7:35 p.m. on September 28, weighing in at 7 lbs. 3 oz. and measuring 20.5 inches.)
Oh, yes! I do most definitely hope that Evan is a chip off the old block, but in oh so many more ways than I meant when I have teased Matt in the past. Matthew (his name means “Gift of God”), this precious, precocious boy of mine, has grown into a fine man. I love him dearly and am very proud of the son and husband and father he has become. While I do hope that Evan will give Matt a taste of what it was like to raise him (so that Matt will deeply appreciate our heroic, parenting efforts all the more, and hopefully take care of us in our old age), I hope that, amid the challenges, he will enjoy this little guy as much as we have enjoyed raising him.
Lo, children are an heritage of the LORD: and the fruit of the womb is his reward. Psalm 127:3 KJV
By the way, the name Evan is the Welsh form of John, a Hebrew name meaning “God is gracious.” I hope my daughter (in-law), Kristy, will keep this in mind in those moments when Evan causes her to utter, “You are just like your father!!!”
“Just put this one last block in the basket – just this one,” the fatigued and frustrated father said. The blond-haired two-year-old, sitting on the floor next to him, contemplated the one remaining brightly colored Fisher-Price block. Glancing at his father sideways out of the corners of his vivid blue eyes, he heaved the block across the family room where it bounced off the paneled wall and tumbled to the floor. The obstinate, PJ-clad toddler and the twenty-something, highly educated, professional-by-day father had been locked in this scrimmage for control for at least an eternal half-hour.
“Why can’t he just obey? Why won’t he put one lousy block in the stupid toy basket, for Pete’s sake!” my frazzled hubby exclaimed to me later that evening. Upstairs, his worthy opponent lay sleeping, secured for the night, the epitome of innocence and sweetness, his wiry arms enfolding, and his sweaty, rosy cheek resting on, his beloved stuffed monkey. Suppressing a smile, I pondered silently how alike father and son are in so many ways, including their “tenacity.”
“He’s so unbelievably stubborn!” Rex proclaimed as he fell into his recliner, his energy spent, his spirit sagging. How is it possible, he wondered, for a mature adult capable of abstract thinking, logic, and other sophisticated intellectual skills to be bested by a mere child who thinks concretely and can’t tell the difference between make-believe and reality? We both sighed deeply and turned our waning attention to the TV. My sigh was one of relief, so, so glad that it wasn’t my night for bedtime duty!
Returning from my reverie, I contemplated my son and his question. For years, we’ve teased Matt—in moments of his obstinacy—that we hope he has a child “just like” him. There are other qualities that we’ve jokingly wished upon his progeny, like his proclivity for climbing and his love for disappearing into clothes racks while shopping, all the while scaring his mother to death. His favorite Sesame Street character was Ernie—which should give you a glimmer of his lively personality.
So, do I wish that Matt has a kid just like him? Be careful now, Mom. This is a million dollar question. Do I want to call a friend or poll the audience? Nope. I’m on my own here. What’s my final answer? What makes this such a tricky question is that cradled in my son’s arms as he rocks, is his very own newborn son, Evan. (Late, breaking news flash: I interrupt this article to announce that I am a GRANDMA! Evan Jason Teeple was born at 7:35 p.m. on September 28, weighing in at 7 lbs. 3 oz. and measuring 20.5 inches.)
Oh, yes! I do most definitely hope that Evan is a chip off the old block, but in oh so many more ways than I meant when I have teased Matt in the past. Matthew (his name means “Gift of God”), this precious, precocious boy of mine, has grown into a fine man. I love him dearly and am very proud of the son and husband and father he has become. While I do hope that Evan will give Matt a taste of what it was like to raise him (so that Matt will deeply appreciate our heroic, parenting efforts all the more, and hopefully take care of us in our old age), I hope that, amid the challenges, he will enjoy this little guy as much as we have enjoyed raising him.
Lo, children are an heritage of the LORD: and the fruit of the womb is his reward. Psalm 127:3 KJV
By the way, the name Evan is the Welsh form of John, a Hebrew name meaning “God is gracious.” I hope my daughter (in-law), Kristy, will keep this in mind in those moments when Evan causes her to utter, “You are just like your father!!!”
Saturday, October 6, 2007
A STAR FOR A STAR - October 6, 2007
My husband, Rex, recently ran into someone who was very significant in our son’s life. Many of you who read today’s column may say that this woman was also significant in your life, or that of your child’s. For 29 years (and still counting), Mrs. Doris has been a daily substitute teacher at Anderson High School. Every time she runs into us, she eagerly asks about Matt and Beth. She not only remembers them, she also remembers who they hung around with. This is pretty amazing, given that Matt, our oldest, graduated from AHS in 1996—11 years ago!
Matt has fond memories of Mrs. Doris, not just from classroom and hallway encounters, but also from her presence at his football games and track meets, his graduation, his graduation open house… Goodness! Mrs. Doris must be the busiest person on the face of the earth on open house days! Everyone wants her to come to their house, and come, she does, with camera in hand. If you run into Mrs. Doris, it’s likely that she’ll dig into her purse for a picture she took of you and your friends that she’s been meaning to give you.
The year that Matt graduated, Mrs. Doris was awarded her very own letter jacket. The student body went wild, rocking the Wigwam with joy, as Mrs. Doris modeled her coat of honor. Mrs. Doris “lettered” in encouragement, enthusiasm, compassion, attentiveness, inspiration, loyalty, commitment, kindness, humor, hugs, smiles and twinkling eyes. An encounter with Mrs. Doris is an encounter with grace.
I am very thankful for the Mrs. Doris’ in my kids’ lives. There is so much in life that wears our self esteem thin and we need mentors and encouragers who love us and believe in us, who show us there is goodness in life, and who model for us the qualities that make a person truly great. If I could sum up in one phrase the gift that Mrs. Doris bestows on kids, it’s the message that, “You are significant.”
Even more important than conveying to children that they are significant to us, is our responsibility of conveying how very significant they are to their Heavenly Father. The psalmist, David, captures this beautifully in the 139th psalm:
O LORD, you have searched me and you know me. You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar. You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways. Before a word is on my tongue you know it completely, O LORD. You hem me in—behind and before; you have laid your hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain. Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there. If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast. ... you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place. When I was woven together in the depths of the earth, your eyes saw my unformed body. All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.
David understood, from the inside out, that he was significant in God’s eyes and that God had a plan for his life. We can each be a Mrs. Doris in the life of a child, conveying to them their significance to us, and most especially, their significance to God.
Mrs. Doris loves to tell the story of how touched she was when our Matt gave her his captain’s star to put on her jacket. Like Matt, please let the Mrs. Doris’ of your life know that, in your eyes—and in God’s—they are a shining star.
Matt has fond memories of Mrs. Doris, not just from classroom and hallway encounters, but also from her presence at his football games and track meets, his graduation, his graduation open house… Goodness! Mrs. Doris must be the busiest person on the face of the earth on open house days! Everyone wants her to come to their house, and come, she does, with camera in hand. If you run into Mrs. Doris, it’s likely that she’ll dig into her purse for a picture she took of you and your friends that she’s been meaning to give you.
The year that Matt graduated, Mrs. Doris was awarded her very own letter jacket. The student body went wild, rocking the Wigwam with joy, as Mrs. Doris modeled her coat of honor. Mrs. Doris “lettered” in encouragement, enthusiasm, compassion, attentiveness, inspiration, loyalty, commitment, kindness, humor, hugs, smiles and twinkling eyes. An encounter with Mrs. Doris is an encounter with grace.
I am very thankful for the Mrs. Doris’ in my kids’ lives. There is so much in life that wears our self esteem thin and we need mentors and encouragers who love us and believe in us, who show us there is goodness in life, and who model for us the qualities that make a person truly great. If I could sum up in one phrase the gift that Mrs. Doris bestows on kids, it’s the message that, “You are significant.”
Even more important than conveying to children that they are significant to us, is our responsibility of conveying how very significant they are to their Heavenly Father. The psalmist, David, captures this beautifully in the 139th psalm:
O LORD, you have searched me and you know me. You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar. You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways. Before a word is on my tongue you know it completely, O LORD. You hem me in—behind and before; you have laid your hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain. Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there. If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast. ... you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place. When I was woven together in the depths of the earth, your eyes saw my unformed body. All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.
David understood, from the inside out, that he was significant in God’s eyes and that God had a plan for his life. We can each be a Mrs. Doris in the life of a child, conveying to them their significance to us, and most especially, their significance to God.
Mrs. Doris loves to tell the story of how touched she was when our Matt gave her his captain’s star to put on her jacket. Like Matt, please let the Mrs. Doris’ of your life know that, in your eyes—and in God’s—they are a shining star.
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
RISING FROMN THE EMBERS - September 29, 2007
If you were afraid that your house was going to catch on fire, what would you grab as you headed out the door to safety? I know what I would grab: my two dogs, Panda and Hope, my children’s baby albums, my wedding ring, the necklace my husband gave me as a wedding gift, my mom’s antique watch, our passports—and this laptop on which I am typing. I know this with certainty, because at 1:00 a.m. this very morning, I did just this.
“Linda. Get up!” My husband said with urgency. “John’s house is on fire!” Instantly I was fully awake and quickly dashing out the front door, as Rex called 911. As we hurried across our lawn into John’s yard, a firm voice instructed us to, “Stay in your own yard, please!” “We just want to know if they got out of the house!” my husband shouted from behind me. They did! John and Donna were safe and the fire department was already there.
There was little we could do, except be present with them as they watched the beautiful log home, that they and their five children had built together thirty years ago, be devoured by fire. John had heard the smoke alarm and wakened Donna. As they descended the smoke-filled staircase from their second floor bedroom, they were scared that they would not make it out of the house.
As I sit here writing, thirteen hours have passed since my husband woke me. There are still fire engines and numerous other emergency vehicles lining the street, and I can hear heavy equipment at work. A massive plume of smoke is still rising from the hole in the ground where three levels of rubble are piled atop burning embers. The heavy equipment is raising the rubble up out of the hole so firefighters can extinguish the remainder of the fire.
In the wee hours of the morning, our yard was teeming with concerned neighbors and John and Donna’s family members. We all stood helplessly watching their beautiful home disappear before our eyes. As one of the tall trees standing between our two homes caught fire and burning embers drifted over our house, I became afraid that our house would also catch on fire. Rex hosed down our roof while I dashed around inside our house grabbing a few things, in the event we should fall prey to the fire.
When the firefighters turned their attention on our home, hosing down the roof, I felt guilty that precious water was being diverted to our house while my neighbors’ house was engulfed with flames. That was when I realized that their house was beyond saving.
Surrounded my by neighbors, I thought about all the crises that our few families have dealt with during the last year. The protective denial I live with—that surely my family is immune to tragedy because, “those things only happen to other people”—was juxtaposed with the reality that cancer, the death of loved ones, fires, car accidents, job loss, divorce, and on and on, ARE a part of life.
There is no immunity, for any of us. But in the midst of strive, there is grace. God’s presence was palpable this morning, embodied in the love and concern of neighbors and in the dedication of the many wonderful volunteer firefighters.
So what crossed your mind as you pondered my opening question—what would you grab? I bet that, like me, you immediately thought of things that connect you to your loved ones. A home is so much more than four walls, a roof, and the things housed within. It is a throbbing heart full of memories of the past, experiences of the present, and dreams for the future. A home is a haven of love and security. Home is something we carry in our hearts and I have no doubt that John and Donna have all that they need to create a new family haven.
Crises are powerful reminders of what is truly important in life. Hug your loved ones today. Tell them you love them and how very much they are a gift of grace in your life. Don’t wait. And, please, make sure your smoke alarms are in working order!
For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord,
"plans to prosper you and not to harm you,
plans to give you hope and a future.
Jeremiah 29:11
“Linda. Get up!” My husband said with urgency. “John’s house is on fire!” Instantly I was fully awake and quickly dashing out the front door, as Rex called 911. As we hurried across our lawn into John’s yard, a firm voice instructed us to, “Stay in your own yard, please!” “We just want to know if they got out of the house!” my husband shouted from behind me. They did! John and Donna were safe and the fire department was already there.
There was little we could do, except be present with them as they watched the beautiful log home, that they and their five children had built together thirty years ago, be devoured by fire. John had heard the smoke alarm and wakened Donna. As they descended the smoke-filled staircase from their second floor bedroom, they were scared that they would not make it out of the house.
As I sit here writing, thirteen hours have passed since my husband woke me. There are still fire engines and numerous other emergency vehicles lining the street, and I can hear heavy equipment at work. A massive plume of smoke is still rising from the hole in the ground where three levels of rubble are piled atop burning embers. The heavy equipment is raising the rubble up out of the hole so firefighters can extinguish the remainder of the fire.
In the wee hours of the morning, our yard was teeming with concerned neighbors and John and Donna’s family members. We all stood helplessly watching their beautiful home disappear before our eyes. As one of the tall trees standing between our two homes caught fire and burning embers drifted over our house, I became afraid that our house would also catch on fire. Rex hosed down our roof while I dashed around inside our house grabbing a few things, in the event we should fall prey to the fire.
When the firefighters turned their attention on our home, hosing down the roof, I felt guilty that precious water was being diverted to our house while my neighbors’ house was engulfed with flames. That was when I realized that their house was beyond saving.
Surrounded my by neighbors, I thought about all the crises that our few families have dealt with during the last year. The protective denial I live with—that surely my family is immune to tragedy because, “those things only happen to other people”—was juxtaposed with the reality that cancer, the death of loved ones, fires, car accidents, job loss, divorce, and on and on, ARE a part of life.
There is no immunity, for any of us. But in the midst of strive, there is grace. God’s presence was palpable this morning, embodied in the love and concern of neighbors and in the dedication of the many wonderful volunteer firefighters.
So what crossed your mind as you pondered my opening question—what would you grab? I bet that, like me, you immediately thought of things that connect you to your loved ones. A home is so much more than four walls, a roof, and the things housed within. It is a throbbing heart full of memories of the past, experiences of the present, and dreams for the future. A home is a haven of love and security. Home is something we carry in our hearts and I have no doubt that John and Donna have all that they need to create a new family haven.
Crises are powerful reminders of what is truly important in life. Hug your loved ones today. Tell them you love them and how very much they are a gift of grace in your life. Don’t wait. And, please, make sure your smoke alarms are in working order!
For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord,
"plans to prosper you and not to harm you,
plans to give you hope and a future.
Jeremiah 29:11
OUR GREATEST EXPORT -- September 22, 2007
What is America’s greatest export? I’ll give you a little time to ponder this… dah, dah, dah, dah…. DAH! DAH! DAH! DAH! Dah. Dah. Dah.
OK! What’s your final answer?
When I ask GOOGLE this question, I got 1170 hits, and what I found was quite eye-opening—sometimes encouraging, sometimes disheartening, and sometimes shocking. After searching just seven pages of hits, I discovered a diversity of responses:
· Most frequent responses: music, the American dollar, freedom
· Most comprehensive arena: commerce and finance: the American dollar, services, fast food, American jobs, junk debt, the disease of consuming, intellectual property, Capitalism
· Culture: jazz, blues, rock and roll—and Bob Dylan himself, arts, entertainment, fame, the culture of hip, Hollywood, our image
· Patriotic: the Constitution, freedom, security, democracy, Manifest Destiny
· Most inspiring: dreams, creativity, ideas
· Most pessimistic: weapons, war, bombs, death, exploitation, mediocrity
· Most unique: The expression "O.K."
· Silliest: Clowns
· Most shocking: a Godless culture
· Most encouraging (to me): the nonprofit social sector
Did your answer make the list? What surprised you? If you had to choose just one export from this list that you believe represents what the average Joe and Jill America think, what would it be?
I was inspired to ask this question by a true story recounted by Tim Kimmel in Grace-Based Parenting. Kimmel attended a luncheon where the question, “What do you think is America’s most strategic export?” was being discussed. Among the many responses was one given by a WWII recipient of the Medal of Honor (which had been presented to him personally by President Franklin D. Roosevelt, in a White House ceremony): “The greatest commodity we have to offer the world,” he said, "is freedom.”
When I surfed the web, I truly expected to see this same answer come up repeatedly, but as you can see from the above list, freedom is wedged into the list like a tiny volume of wisdom misplaced in the more popular paperback sections of romance or sci-fi.
Kimmel used this story as an illustration to set the scene for another question he wished to invite his reader to explore. Several Englishmen, in the mid 1900s, were deep into a discussion on comparative religions when one diner asked, “What separates Christianity from every other religion in the world?” Again, how would you answer this question?
Answers were proffered by these learned men of academia: the Incarnation, the resurrection of Christ… Walking in on the debate of his Oxford colleagues late, none other that C.S Lewis declared, “Oh, that’s easy! It’s _______.”
While Tim Kimmel acknowledges Jesus as the very core of Christianity, he challenges us to dig deeper with yet another question: “What is it about Jesus that inclines us to cast our lot with a simple carpenter from an obscure, ancient village?”
Both Lewis and Kimmel are in agreement:
“Oh, that’s easy!” says Lewis. It’s grace.”
“It’s because of His grace,” offers Kimmel, “grace He has shown us by first purchasing us from the depths of our lost condition. It’s His grace that loves us when we’re being foolish, or stubborn, or selfish or mean-spirited.”
Imagine what the world would be like if every Christian imported grace into their hearts—and then exported it to even just one other person. Music, money, and freedom are life-enhancing, God-given gifts, all usually attainable, if we work hard enough—and yet, all can be snatched away or lost. Grace, however, is a unique and priceless gift, one that we cannot earn, or buy, or attain on our own, no matter how hard we try—a gift that is eternal, and always available. With grace, there’s an endless supply, more than enough to go around, no coupons needed, no limits on how much you can take, no restrictions, no small print, no lines, no waiting,.. Grab grace with gusto and go!
We throw open our doors to God and discover at the same moment
that he has already thrown open his door to us.
We find ourselves standing where we always hoped we might stand—
out in the wide open spaces of God's grace and glory.
Romans 5:1 The Message
What is your greatest export?
-------------------------------------------
Kimmel, Tim, Grace-Based Parenting, W Publishing Group (division of Thomas Nelson, Inc.), 2004, pp. 27-30
OK! What’s your final answer?
When I ask GOOGLE this question, I got 1170 hits, and what I found was quite eye-opening—sometimes encouraging, sometimes disheartening, and sometimes shocking. After searching just seven pages of hits, I discovered a diversity of responses:
· Most frequent responses: music, the American dollar, freedom
· Most comprehensive arena: commerce and finance: the American dollar, services, fast food, American jobs, junk debt, the disease of consuming, intellectual property, Capitalism
· Culture: jazz, blues, rock and roll—and Bob Dylan himself, arts, entertainment, fame, the culture of hip, Hollywood, our image
· Patriotic: the Constitution, freedom, security, democracy, Manifest Destiny
· Most inspiring: dreams, creativity, ideas
· Most pessimistic: weapons, war, bombs, death, exploitation, mediocrity
· Most unique: The expression "O.K."
· Silliest: Clowns
· Most shocking: a Godless culture
· Most encouraging (to me): the nonprofit social sector
Did your answer make the list? What surprised you? If you had to choose just one export from this list that you believe represents what the average Joe and Jill America think, what would it be?
I was inspired to ask this question by a true story recounted by Tim Kimmel in Grace-Based Parenting. Kimmel attended a luncheon where the question, “What do you think is America’s most strategic export?” was being discussed. Among the many responses was one given by a WWII recipient of the Medal of Honor (which had been presented to him personally by President Franklin D. Roosevelt, in a White House ceremony): “The greatest commodity we have to offer the world,” he said, "is freedom.”
When I surfed the web, I truly expected to see this same answer come up repeatedly, but as you can see from the above list, freedom is wedged into the list like a tiny volume of wisdom misplaced in the more popular paperback sections of romance or sci-fi.
Kimmel used this story as an illustration to set the scene for another question he wished to invite his reader to explore. Several Englishmen, in the mid 1900s, were deep into a discussion on comparative religions when one diner asked, “What separates Christianity from every other religion in the world?” Again, how would you answer this question?
Answers were proffered by these learned men of academia: the Incarnation, the resurrection of Christ… Walking in on the debate of his Oxford colleagues late, none other that C.S Lewis declared, “Oh, that’s easy! It’s _______.”
While Tim Kimmel acknowledges Jesus as the very core of Christianity, he challenges us to dig deeper with yet another question: “What is it about Jesus that inclines us to cast our lot with a simple carpenter from an obscure, ancient village?”
Both Lewis and Kimmel are in agreement:
“Oh, that’s easy!” says Lewis. It’s grace.”
“It’s because of His grace,” offers Kimmel, “grace He has shown us by first purchasing us from the depths of our lost condition. It’s His grace that loves us when we’re being foolish, or stubborn, or selfish or mean-spirited.”
Imagine what the world would be like if every Christian imported grace into their hearts—and then exported it to even just one other person. Music, money, and freedom are life-enhancing, God-given gifts, all usually attainable, if we work hard enough—and yet, all can be snatched away or lost. Grace, however, is a unique and priceless gift, one that we cannot earn, or buy, or attain on our own, no matter how hard we try—a gift that is eternal, and always available. With grace, there’s an endless supply, more than enough to go around, no coupons needed, no limits on how much you can take, no restrictions, no small print, no lines, no waiting,.. Grab grace with gusto and go!
We throw open our doors to God and discover at the same moment
that he has already thrown open his door to us.
We find ourselves standing where we always hoped we might stand—
out in the wide open spaces of God's grace and glory.
Romans 5:1 The Message
What is your greatest export?
-------------------------------------------
Kimmel, Tim, Grace-Based Parenting, W Publishing Group (division of Thomas Nelson, Inc.), 2004, pp. 27-30
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