The Thirty-fifth Sabbath

In honor of today, August 26, 2012, the day of our dear friend's ordination, a song we sang during his service.  It was a privilege and an honor to be part of the worship team at today's service, and this may be one of the most beautiful songs I've ever heard.  We sang it to the tune in the Kingsway version you can hear on YouTube.

Before the throne of God above
I have a strong and perfect plea.
A great high Priest whose Name is Love
Who ever lives and pleads for me.
My name is graven on His hands,
My name is written on His heart.
I know that while in Heaven He stands
No tongue can bid me thence depart.
No tongue can bid me thence depart.

When Satan tempts me to despair
And tells me of the guilt within,
Upward I look and see Him there
Who made an end of all my sin.
Because the sinless Savior died
My sinful soul is counted free.
For God the just is satisfied
To look on Him and pardon me.
To look on Him and pardon me.

Behold Him there the risen Lamb,
My perfect spotless righteousness,
The great unchangeable I AM,
The King of glory and of grace,
One in Himself I cannot die.
My soul is purchased by His blood,
My life is hid with Christ on high,
With Christ my Savior and my God!
With Christ my Savior and my God!

"Before the Throne of God Above," by Charitie Bancroft

There's also a YouTube video that pairs this song with a reenactment of a sermon by Martin Luther.  I love the quote they included:

So when the devil throws your sins in your face and declares that you deserve death and hell, tell him this: "I admit that I deserve death and hell, what of it? For I know One who suffered and made satisfaction on my behalf. His name is Jesus Christ, Son of God, and where He is there I shall be also!”  Martin Luther

Book Sixteen

Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? (and other concerns)
Mindy Kaling

Our book club has been struggling this summer, both with our reading and with our getting together to discuss what we're reading.  As a result, we're going to meet this week to discuss our June and August books.  We're skipping our July book, which was maybe a little depressing to add to a summer month.  Anyway, thankfully our August book is the Mindy Kaling autobiography.  Easy enough.

And fluffy.  And only mildly funny. 

I'll confess to being a bit disappointed.  I don't know really what I was expecting, except maybe some wipe the tears from my eyes laughter and hilarity.  I didn't get that.  The book is certainly light and easy to read.  It will be even easier to discuss, I'm sure.

Kaling is a good writer.  She turns a phrase nicely from time to time, and her descriptions of herself are candid.  I appreciate that she doesn't try to make herself more amazing than she already is (which is pretty amazing, if she does say so herself).  There are certainly moments when I laughed out loud.  Those came in her description of one-night stands, the "Irish" exit, and the pictures on her Blackberry. 

The subtitle of this book is perhaps the most descriptive title I've ever seen in a book.  Sometimes when I'm reading a book I will read almost the entire book before I understand where the title originated.  Other times it is only on reflection days later.  With this it was clear from the beginning--Kaling is simply sharing 200 or so pages of her concerns about growing up, friendships, work, boys and men, and fashion.  I'm not saying that's a bad thing.  I'm just saying that sometimes it's funny, and sometimes it isn't.  But all of it made me like her more and wish that we were friends.  My concerns are pretty random and only mildly funny too.

NOTE: She did have some great thoughts on marriage, which will undoubtedly make it into another blog post this week.

The Thirty-fourth Sabbath

There's a wall that has been standing
Since the day that Adam fell
Sin is where it started
And Sin is why it held
Speaking as a prisoner
Who was there and lived to tell
I remember how it fell

I can here the sound of freedom
Like a distant voice who called
And beckoned me to follow
Where I had never gone
And though my heart is willing
I just stood there at the wall
Praying somehow it would fall

But in a cross I found a doorway
And a hand that held a key
And when the chains fell at my feet
For the first time I could see

This is how it feels to be free
This is what it means to know that I am forgiven
This is how it feels to be free
To see that life can be more than I imagined
This is how it feels to be free
This is how it feels to be free Yeahhh!

There are days when I'm reminded
Of the prison I was in
Like a living nightmare
Burning from the veill
I can feel the voice of evil
I can hear the call of sin
But I won't go back again

This is how it feels to be free
This is what it means to know that I am forgiven
This is how it feels to be free
To see that life can be more than I imagined
This is how it feels to be free
This is how it feels to be free Yeahhh!

See, once I've tasted freedom
Then the walls could bind no more
Since mercy gave me wings to fly
Like an eagle I can soar

This is how it feels to be free
This is what it means to know that I am forgiven
This is how it feels to be free
To see that life can be more than I imagined
This is how it feels to be free
This is how it feels to be free Yeahhh!
"This is How it Feels to be Free," Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir

The Most Important Lesson We Can Learn

I have three beautiful and amazing girls.  They like to giggle together.  They like to snuggle with each other.  They like to play Little People together.  And they love to fight.  Around my house, there is a lot of playing noise that quickly turns into yelling and screaming noise.  And then crying.  And then (usually when they've been reminded), there is a quiet and sad noise:

"I'm sorry."

Immediately following, and always unprompted, there is an equally quiet and sad noise:

"I forgive you."

The volume and the emotion behind it generally suggests that while not all is forgotten, and the pain still exists, the offense is forgiven.  It won't come between them anymore.  And, within minutes, they are giggling together.

I've been thinking a lot about forgiveness lately.

I work at a children's advocacy center.  We provide services for children who have been sexually abused.  National statistics tell us that 90% of the children who are sexually abused are victimized by people they know, love, and trust.  In the county where I live, it is closer to 99%.  We're talking fathers, stepfathers, mothers, cousins, Dad's best friend, step siblings, babysitters.  The other day, the mom of one of our clients was speaking with a group of people.  She said, "My daughter is an inspiration to me.  She teaches us all so much.  And I know the biggest reason for her freedom and joy is something that she is teaching me: she forgave the man who did this to her." 

She forgave the man who did this to her.  She forgave the dear family friend who sexually abused her when he thought she was sleeping.

At the same time, there is a couple I know who are in the process of getting divorced.  The reason?  She had an affair.

I understand that having someone cheat on you is a horrible thing.  The betrayal, the disappointment, the fear, the rejection.  It is, according to many people I know, unforgivable.

And, in the case of this couple, it destroyed their marriage.  Or did it?  You see, she had her affair--and ended it--at least fifteen years ago.  She came clean to her husband, they recommitted themselves each to their marriage and each other, and they moved past it.  Or so she thought.

What really ended their marriage?  Not forgiving.  When he asked her to leave, he told her it was because he had never forgiven her for what she did fifteen years ago.  Talk about betrayal, disappointment, fear, and rejection.  Can you imagine believing that the man you love has extended grace and forgiveness--which you, self admittedly, did not deserve--only to find out that he has held on for fifteen years?  That slowly, his deception has been eating away at the vows you took before God and your family and friends?

That's what not forgiving does.  In Traveling Mercies Anne Lamott wrote, "Not forgiving is like eating rat poison and waiting for the rat to die."  Amen.  And then amen again.

Not forgiving destroys marriages.  It robs joy.  It erases freedom.  It brings a slow and painful death.

Forgiving brings life.  It causes joy and delivers freedom.  It's hard.  And it may be quiet and sad, because it's not easy, and the pain is still there.  But, it says that nothing will come between us. 

Spend a few hours at our house, and you will learn many lessons.  You will learn how a small person with mere inches of water in the bathtub can make every square inch of the bathroom wet.  You will learn that ketchup, cheese, mayo, pickles, and two slices of bread make a terrific lunch.  You will learn how to giggle, transform plastic tubs into cars, and use Mom's cell phone to watch Curious George.  You will also learn how to apologize.  And, most importantly, you will learn how to forgive.

The Thirty-second Sabbath

In celebration of the Miles for Hope 5K yesterday and its local 2012 ambassador, Mitchell Buning, and his victory over a brain tumor . . . in remembering the past 1 1/2 years for his family . . . in hoping for friends whose hearts continue to break as marriages fail, friends disappoint, and loved ones succomb to illness.  Dear friends, we are all safe.  We really are.

To the one whose dreams are falling all apart
And all you're left with is a tired and broken heart
I can tell by your eyes you think you're on your own
but you're not all alone

Have you heard of the One who can calm the raging seas
Give sight to the blind, pull the lame up to their feet
With a love so strong he'll never let you go
oh you're not alone

You will be safe in His arms
You will be safe in His arms
'Cause the hands that hold the world are holding your heart
This is the promise He made
He will be with you always
When everything is falling apart
You will be safe in His arms

Did you know that the voice that brings the dead to life
Is the very same voice that calls you now to rise
So hear Him now He's calling you home
You will never be alone

You will be safe in His arms
You will be safe in His arms
'Cause the hands that hold the world are holding your heart
This is the promise He made
He will be with you always
When everything is falling apart
You will be safe in His arms

These are the hands that built the mountains
the hands that calm the seas
These are the arms that hold the heavens
they are holding you and me

These are hands that healed the leper
Pulled the lame up to their feet
These are the arms that were nailed to a cross
to break our chains and set us free

You will be safe in His arms
You will be safe in His arms
'Cause the hands that hold the world are holding your heart
This is the promise He made
He will be with you always
When everything is falling apart
You will be safe in His arms

"Safe" by Phil Wickham

The Thirty-first Sabbath - Taking Our Turn

Yesterday in church, our pastor shared an email from one of our members who is currently in Thailand, visiting her son and daughter-in-law and grandchildren.  She wrote about the church service she had attended that morning--along with Christians from 40+ other countries.  And then she said something like, "As we worshiped God, I thought about the sun rising around the world, calling God's people to gather and worship Him--brothers and sisters in India, children in Africa, and you there.  Just as the sun's light spills across the earth, we gather, hour by hour, to give Him glory.  May He be with you as you take your turn."

I loved that.  "As you take your turn."  I did that yesterday, and it was a lovely service--begun in worship with friends and ended with blueberry cobbler shared with old friends and new friends.  And all day long, this song fluttered through my brain:

It's the song of the redeemed
Rising from the African plain
It's the song of the forgiven
Drowning out the Amazon rain
The song of Asian believers
Filled with God's holy fire
It's every tribe, every tongue, every nation
A love song born of a grateful choir

It's all God's children singing
Glory, glory, hallelujah
He reigns, He reigns
It's all God's children singing
Glory, glory, hallelujah
He reigns, He reigns

Let it rise about the four winds
Caught up in the heavenly sound
Let praises echo from the towers of cathedrals
To the faithful gathered underground
Of all the songs sung from the dawn of creation
Some were meant to persist
Of all the bells rung from a thousand steeples
None rings truer than this
And all the powers of darkness
Tremble at what they've just heard
'Cause all the powers of darkness
Can't drown out a single word

When all God's children sing out
Glory, glory, hallelujah
He reigns, He reigns
All God's people singing
Glory, glory, hallelujah
He reigns, He reigns

"He Reigns," by Newsboys

Book Fifteen

You Don't Look Like Anyone I Know: A true story of family, face blindness, and forgiveness
Heather Sellers

In Sellers's memoir, she recounts her childhood (living with a mother she later determined was paranoid schizophrenic and chasing after her mostly-absentee father who was a cross-dressing alcoholic) while intermittently describing her self discovery of her own prosopagnosia.  Late in the book, in the Afterward, in fact, Sellers writes that when she had shared stories of her childhood in the past, professional writers had told her that it was "unbelievable" and "unsurvivable."  There are moments that surely feel that way.

In truth, because most of us suffer from the inability to remember names of our acquaintances, it's easy to feel that her chapters on prosopagnosia--or face blindness--are just as unbelievable.  I appreciated the mix of anecdotal information (such as the golden retriever test--you may have had your dog for years, but if we put pictures of his face in a line up of 20 other golden retrievers, could you pick yours out?) along with scientific information about how the brain recognizes faces and identifies them and their characteristics. 

Sellers is a professor of English at a local college.  She is a good writer, and I think the book is well organized.  I appreciated her transitions between her (truly unbelievable!) childhood and its impacts on her realizations about who she is as an adult and her willingness to believe the truth about her condition.  Childhood is a confusing time and, even under normal conditions, our recollections about it color so much about our adulthoods.  When a brain disorder factors into that, it becomes even more difficult to see the truth and grow in that truth.  There are more things to ask forgiveness for and to offer forgiveness for.  But, at the end of the day, the forgiveness is worth it.

While You Don't Look Like Anyone I Know is a fascinating story about Heather Sellers's reality, it is also an important lesson for all of us.  It's a reminder to extend grace, because you never know what burdens others are carrying.  It's a reminder to give others permission to be real, even when their authenticity is scary or painful.  It's also a reminder to believe in each other, even when the truth seems unbelievable. 

Someone once asked me, after hearing me talk about my relationship with my grandmother, "Why do you even love her?" 

I remember looking at that person like she was crazy and saying, "Because she's my grandma."

I thought about that a lot while reading this book.  And I was glad to hear Sellers say that at the end of the day, while laying out her story and recalling her childhood and her journey into accepting her face blindness, she could see that throughout her life there had been love.  There had been love for her mother and her father and love from them for her.  She concludes: "I'd set out to write a book about how we learn to trust our own experience in the face of confusion, doubt, and anxiety.  What I ended up with is the story of how we love each other in spite of immense limitations."  (p354) Amen.  Sellers reminded me of that as well.

Hope, Despair, and The Dark Knight Rises on the night after the shootings

Hope is a funny thing.  So is seeing a movie the night after a horrific shooting at its premiere.

Obviously we are half a country away from Aurora, CO.  We're not in the suburb of a major city.  And we were safe, because we were at the movies.  And nothing bad happens at the movie theater, right?  Especially in West Michigan.

Still, we had a plan.  We knew how we were getting out of the theater if there was a fire (thanks for the plan, Leah.  And Steve offered to be last.).  We also knew that if someone came into the theater and started shooting we were not going to run.  We were going to drop to the ground and hide under our seats.  (Once in the theater we weren't sure how that would work since there isn't really a lot of room under those seats.  Especially once we were all tucked under them.  We would have made it work.)  I said my "I love yous" to my family and was glad that my husband was home with my girls, just in case.

As horrific as the shooting was to read about, and as many tears as I shed for those who sent their kids or spouses or parents to a midnight movie only to have them never return home, it still felt surreal.  I still felt completely safe watching The Dark Knight Rises at 10:30 p.m. the night after the shooting.  Sure, I had my "just in case" plans in place, but I never really thought anything would happen.

Until the movie started, and I kept checking the Exit doors.  And during the first shooting scene, when it's reported that the gunfire began in Theater 9 in Aurora, and I closed my eyes against the tears that tried to fall.  And then, when that guy tripped walking up the aisle and there was a loud thud and every single person in the theater began murmuring, and adrenaline began pumping through my veins and I thought about throwing myself on top of Leah and Amy to protect them.  I can honestly say that I have never had a movie experience like that one.

This morning, after my husband let me sleep in, and I sat reading Entertainment Weekly's review of The Dark Knight Rises, I noticed a quote that struck me as ironic.  Not the funny kind of irony, but the eerie kind that makes you think there's something deeper within certain events.  They quoted Bane, the film's villain, as saying, "There can be no true despair without hope."

Hope.  In the midst of the shooting in Aurora and the reminder it immediately brings of the shootings at Columbine, there is still that word: hope.

But there's also the ironic fact that what Holmes stole from moviegoers throughout the country--maybe even the world--is the hope that at a movie theater we can escape our lives for a while.  The hope that we can be safe.  That senseless shootings happen only on the big screen.  That spiraling downward into the darkness of despair is reserved for fictional characters.  Until the characters come off the screen and erase all of that hope with one pull of the trigger.

Bane's belief is shared by all who embrace chaos and terrorism: There can be no true despair without hope.  Without hope, the chaos is expected.  Safety is a dream, so senseless shootings aren't the nightmare.  But when hope creeps in, when I can believe for one second that there might be peace, then Bane, the Joker, shootings at the movies--they are true horror.

I didn't stay home from the movie theater last night, and I won't do so in the future.  I refuse to let someone who wants to destroy my hope dictate my life.  Because I believe something else about hope.  I believe that while it is true that there can be no true despair without hope, the opposite is also true. 

There can be no true peace or joy without hope.

Maybe just call me Robin.

Cheating People

This morning, in the coolness of my bedroom (okay, it was probably about 80 degrees--but that's cool if you'd entered the room the night before at about 95), I read Acts 13 in The Message.  I've always enjoyed Eugene Peterson's translation as I find him to be sassy, honest, and practical.  This particular section is referred to as "Barnabas, Saul, and Doctor Know-It-All."  (See what I mean about sassy?  You should check out Job!)

As I was reading, I was struck especially by the section for verses 7-11:

The governor invited Barnabas and Saul in, wanting to hear God's Word firsthand from them. But Dr. Know-It-All (that's the wizard's name in plain English) stirred up a ruckus, trying to divert the governor from becoming a believer. But Saul (or Paul), full of the Holy Spirit and looking him straight in the eye, said, "You bag of wind, you parody of a devil—why, you stay up nights inventing schemes to cheat people out of God. But now you've come up against God himself, and your game is up. You're about to go blind—no sunlight for you for a good long stretch." He was plunged immediately into a shadowy mist and stumbled around, begging people to take his hand and show him the way.

Those italics there are mine, because that's the part that jumped out at me.  "Why, you stay up nights inventing schemes to cheat people out of God."  Wow.  Now, this "Dr. Know-It-All" was a wizard.  He truly did spend his time trying to distract people from the Gospel message that Paul and Barnabas were trying to share.  And he paid for it dearly, with his sight.

But that really got me thinking--about me.  I'm certainly not a wizard (no amount of waiting has resulted in the delivery of my acceptance letter for Hogwarts), but I can tend toward being a Know-It-All.  I have the answers or I have the challenge to what people want to do.  And, I don't stay up nights inventing schemes.  I tend to stay up nights praying for a breeze so I can actually fall asleep.  But do I still cheat people out of God?  Can someone who loves God and has every good intention to serve Him do that?

Wouldn't that be a horrible message for a Christian to receive?  "Why, you . . . cheat people out of God."  Ugh.

But, if I'm not living as He called me to--if I'm not loving my neighbors, if I'm ignoring their needs, if I'm not participating in my church's work, if I don't have time to listen to a friend's heart, if I say I'll pray and don't, if I'm stingy with the resources God has entrusted to me, if I'm too paralyzed by fear to step out in faith to do what I know He has for me . . . am I cheating people out of God?  Because, really, if we're whom He has left on earth to do His work, to be Jesus to the people we meet, then if we aren't doing that are we any better than Dr. Know-It-All?

The Twenty-ninth Sabbath

This is my Father's world,
and to my listening ears
all nature sings, and round me rings
the music of the spheres.
This is my Father's world:
I rest me in the thought
of rocks and trees, of skies and seas;
his hand the wonders wrought.

This is my Father's world,
the birds their carols raise,
the morning light, the lily white,
declare their maker's praise.
This is my Father's world:
he shines in all that's fair;
in the rustling grass I hear him pass;
he speaks to me everywhere.

This is my Father's world.
O let me ne'er forget
that though the wrong seems oft so strong,
God is the ruler yet.
This is my Father's world:
why should my heart be sad?
The Lord is King; let the heavens ring!
God reigns; let the earth be glad!

"This Is My Father's World," by Maltbie D. Babcock

Breaking the Silence

This may be the longest break I've taken from blogging since 2012 and my new goals began.  Now that we're (more than--how did that happen!?) half way through the year, it's worth an update.  Or at least a post.

Summer makes life hard, doesn't it?  For some reason I always think the break from school will mean a break from the busyness, and that's never the case.  This summer has brought with it intolerable (for most of us anyway) heat.  That has led to me not sleeping at night, which has led to me not waking up at 5:00 a.m. to go to the gym and come home and read my Bible.  Which leads to most of my goals not being met.

My girlies and I just returned from a two-week vacation at my parents' cottage where we (thankfully!) had air conditioning to make it through the hottest temps in decades or even centuries.  We brought back with us suntans, certificates from passing to a new level of swimming lessons, a renewed commitment to achieving our goals, and a serious head cold.  Which again means I'm not sleeping, not working out, and . . . not eating!  I have no appetite, so this has been a great time to force myself into more salads and fruits.  After all, if I don't feel like eating but I know I need to eat, I might as well make it healthy, right?  So now I've lost 2 1/2 pounds since I returned home.  I'll take it!

On vacation, I also rediscovered the blog of a friend of a friend who has now lost two unborn babies.  They had the funeral for their second daughter two months ago.  Since I had the time, I read through all of her blog posts from her miscarriage of their first daughter, Eden.  What a beautiful gift for this mama who still grieves her baby Zion.  You'll find updates for them in my blog roll (Sprinkles & Wrinkles).  If you've ever lost a baby, or even if you haven't, she is an amazing writer who truly captures joy and peace in the midst of grief.

Then, at the end of vacation, my family learned that an old friend of our family's--and a former babysitter whom my sister bit :D--was just diagnosed with breast cancer.  I added her blog (Stacey's Boobies) today and will stay updated for prayer and the self-discovery and learning that inevitably comes with reading about someone's journey through the valley.

There were also happy times:
* The girls and I took my dad to see "Brave" at the movie theater.  They didn't like the scary bears, but we all agreed that mommy can be a bear sometimes but that doesn't mean mommy doesn't love them fiercely too.
* My friend Shannon and I went to see two movies: "Rock of Ages" and "Magic Mike."  The acting was terrible in "Magic Mike," and they were both cheesy comedies, which I think only one meant to be.  I'd recommend one over the other.  I'm sure you can guess which.
* I went to see "People Like Us," which I have been waiting for since filming began and it was still known as "Welcome to People."  I'm a huge Chris Pine fan, and he did a great job.  Michelle Pfeiffer was also splendid, and I appreciate that she looks her age.  I liked it far more than most of the reviews suggest I should.
* I learned that the son of a former classmate of my parents (at Kalamazoo Christian High School) will be representing the USA in steeplechase at the London Olympics in a couple of weeks.  Go USA and go Evan Jager!  (Now I guess I need to find out when steeplechase will be run . . . and dove and leaped and all the other things it is.)
* I discovered Words with Friends.  Which is probably why I haven't blogged at all.
* I read several books and made it through 1 1/2 grocery bags worth of old magazines.  Yes, I recycled them all.
* I had the opportunity to get almost caught up in my Bible reading.  Job in The Message is fantastically sassy and well-written.  And Jeremiah might be crazy.  Or at least long winded.

It was a great vacation, but I'm glad to be home, even with this cold.  Now that I'm back, I'll try to be better.  Or at least make an effort.

The Twenty-seventh Sabbath

I'm not in church (proper) again this Sabbath.  I was raised in church and going to church and playing church and never taking a Sunday off of church.  We even went to church when we were on vacation.  As I've grown older, I find myself taking a few Sundays off here and there.  Maybe I'm learning that breaks (Sabbath rests?) are important here and there.  Maybe I understand that 90 degrees is too hot for an outdoor chapel, and it feels silly to drive back to town to go to an air conditioned church.  Maybe I'm justifying.

Whatever the reason, today finds me in my third Sunday off in 2012.  My kids and my husband are at church today, and I'm at the cottage.  So I have spent this Sabbath sleeping in, eating an unhealthy (but lifelong favorite) breakfast, finishing a book, blogging, catching up on Facebook, catching up on my Bible reading, and reading friends' blogs from the past few days.  In a bit I'll go for a ride as I wait for my family to arrive.

So, instead of a hymn today, I'll share two blog posts I read today that have served as my sermon for today.  I know I'll ponder them throughout the day and coming week, and I hope that they serve to change my way of thinking--and acting--for the rest of my life.  Just like any other good sermon.

My friend Amy, writes for her therapy.  Today, she issues a reminder to trust in God.  To leave things--worries, our days--in His hands.

A friend from high school wrote a heart-wrenching post on her blog.  She's a gifted writer, and here, she takes this mother's heart into a moment no parent should have to endure but too many do.  By doing that, she reminds us to keep our eyes on our children even while we are trusting God to have them desperately and securely held in His grip.

Be blessed on this Sabbath--whether you are keeping it in church or in reflection on the amazing gifts you have received from your Abba.

Book Fourteen

A Monster Calls
by Patrick Ness, inspired by an idea from Siobhan Dowd

I should start by acknowledging that I didn't love this book . . . until the very end.  Given the rough time I had getting into the book but how deeply affected I was by the ending, I'm having a hard time deciding how to rate it.  I think I'm going to go with four stars just beause the premise was so great, and the ending really sealed it.

Grief is a common theme in life.  Since every day, we--and the people we love--are dying just a bit, life truly has more loss than anything else.  Sometimes that loss is "easy" and sometimes it is so painful that it is hell itself. 

A Monster Calls was written by Patrick Ness based on an idea that Siobhan Dowd had as she was dying of cancer.  She didn't have a chance to finish her book, so Ness took all of her ideas and crafted his own work.  Obviously we don't have the characters and ideas that Dowd developed, nor do we know how much of this story is Ness's creation.  What we do know is that perhaps no one knows the realities of dying and saying goodbye better than someone who is in its midst.  Ness took those ideas and somehow adopted those feelings and realities, and he created a stark and beautiful portrait of a young boy learning how to say goodbye to his mom. 

The other truth about grief is that it is contradictory.  In reality, so is life.  As Ness says toward the end of the tale: "The answer is that it does not matter what you think . . . your mind will contradict itself a hundred times each day.  Your mind will believe comforting lies while also knowing the painful truths that make those lies necessary."  (p191) Isn't that the way?  Isn't that the truth about pain and loss and saying goodbye?  Our minds protect us so well, but then they let us down in the end.  Because the truth is what is, even when it doesn't make sense.

Book Thirteen

The Future of Us
Jay Asher & Carolyn Mackler

What a clever concept for a book!  Especially for a girl who graduated high school in 1995 and vividly remembers her first foray into email and chat rooms.  Emma and Josh are lifelong best friends who have grown apart through the beginning of high school when one of those 100 hours of free America Online CD-ROMs we all used to receive allows them to travel from 1996 to 2011 where they stalk their own Facebook profiles.  Clever, clever, clever.

Obviously Asher and Mackler have the benefit of living in both 1996 and 2011, which makes it easier for them to hold a mirror to the obsurdity that is social networking in the second decade of the twenty-first century.  The Future of Us is billed as a young adult novel, and it certainly works as that, but I do wonder how much of the novelty of this book is lost on readers who were barely born in 1996.  I loved the memory trip of songs, dial-up internet, and phone cards.  I also enjoyed the look at Facebook and the way that Facebook allows us to believe that everything about us--our mood changes, our dinners, our deep thoughts--are of utmost importance to the world.

Above all, I think The Future of Us is a love story.  It's not just a love story between teenagers, but it's a love story with self and with parents and step parents . . . and with an idea of what the future should hold.  With its clever concept, it transcends the "young adult" genre and should provoke those of us who are Emma and Josh's ages--graduating high school in the mid 90s--to ask ourselves some important questions.  What is it we're doing on Facebook--reconnecting?  Holding on to an image of what we wish we were?  Social networking gives us all the platform to pretend that we're philosophers, while ensuring that none of us actually go beyond networking into deep relationships--with our spouses, our friends, our families, ourselves. 

So the questions are these:
* If I had a chance to know my future, would I want to?
* If I didn't like what I saw there, would I try to change it?
* Is it time for me to give up trying to know the future and simply live in the here and now?


Favorite Quotes:
"Even with our ability to look back on [Vietnam]," he says, "there's no way to know for certain what was lost and what was saved.  But that's how it is.  History's a bitch when you're in the middle of it."  (p269)

"He broke your heart!  How can you call it love when he hurt you so badly?"
Kellen pops another fry into her mouth.  "It was love because it was worth it."  (p53)

"Why does it say she has three hundred and nineteen friends?" Josh asks.  "Who has that many friends?"
...Josh turns to me.  "I can't believe she's writing these things."
"Not she," I say.  "Me."
"Why would anyone say this stuff about themselves on the Internet?  It's crazy!"  (pp31-32)

The Twenty-sixth Sabbath

The song that woke me up on vacation: day two.  Megan and Addie were singing together yesterday morning.  At the top of their dear, little lungs.

Praise Him, praise Him,
praise Him in the morning,
praise Him in the noonday.

Praise Him, praise Him,
praise Him when the sun goes down.

Love Him, love Him,
love Him in the morning,
love Him in the noonday.

Love Him, love Him,
love Him when the sun goes down.

Serve Him, serve Him,
serve Him in the morning,
serve Him in the noonday.

Serve Him, serve Him,
serve Him when the sun goes down.

"Praise Him," by Byron Cage

Vacation: Day One

Day one of vacation:

* Laid in bed for 1/2 hour after I woke up.

* Lost my temper (before 9:00 a.m.).

* Signed Ellie up for a summer reading club.

* Dropped Ellie and two friends off at church for a field trip to Blanford Nature Center.

* Weeded my garden and picked cilantro, dill, and lettuce.  Trimmed the tomatoes and cucumbers, determined not to have unmanageable growth of greens and no tomatoes this year.  Realized I never remembered to plant spinach and wondered what happened to all of the carrot seeds Meg planted a few weeks ago.

* Neglected to notice that Addie and Kate decided to play in the puddle at the bottom of the kiddie pool . . . fully clothed.

* Discovered that I had a number of work emails (thanks a lot, "Smart" phone) so I checked them.  Discovered that we were awarded a two-year grant funding $10,000 (1/2) of the expansion of our body-safety and sexual-abuse prevention program so we can train 1,000 preK-1st graders as well as 10,000 2nd-5th graders.  Danced a jig.  Called my boss.  Called the program coordinator.  Wrote the thank you/receipt letter.  Danced another jig.

* Realized I had made it exactly 3 1/2 hours into my vacation without checking my work email.  (FAIL.)

* Made two PB&J sandwiches (Addie and Kate) and one Cheese & Pickle sandwich with mayo and ketchup (obviously Meg) and then ate half of a sweet and juicy honeyrock melon while I was cutting that for the kids' lunch.

* Put a 4 year old and two 2 year olds down for naps.  Which they took.  Still pinching myself.

* Folded four loads of laundry.

* Realized I had written some incorrect information in the thank you/receipt letter.  Called my boss.  Again.

* Broke my personal rule regarding number of children at the store and took three kids grocery shopping.  Spent less money than I feared I would.  And didn't cry like I feared I would.  (WINNING.)

* Arrived at the cottage in sweltering heat.  Found myself hoping gauchos are still in style and then wondering where I could buy some.  (Can they please still be in style?  Are they?  I've never worn anything more comfortable and only got rid of my two pair because they were maternity and don't stay up without that 3rd-trimester bump.)

* Enjoyed a golf cart ride with the girls on which we actually all got cold.  First time in weeks.  Felt amazing.

* Prayed with each of the girls and tucked them in.  Zero crying from anyone at bedtime. 

* Plans for the rest of the night: playing on Facebook, blogging, watching the Tigers, reading Real Simple and Vanity Fair, staying up way too late, sleeping on the porch under three blankets.

Hmmm . . . haven't lost my temper since 9:00 this morning.  Must be vacation.

Enduring Injustice

I recently had a conversation with a friend about something that happened more than a year ago.  As is often the case in broken relationships, there was misunderstanding, heartache, and injustice.  And a lot of pain.  But, at the same time, there is a glimmer of God working.

There are times in our lives when we have to endure injustice.  Life isn't fair.  Relationships hurt.  We get blamed for things we didn't do.  Our relationships end, and our hearts break.  We want to rise up and defend ourselves.  We want to make it right again or at least make sure people know we aren't who or what we've been accused of being.

Surely there are times when we are allowed to do that.  We get to defend ourselves in court--with integrity--and we can certainly speak to our motives or explain the reasons behind our actions. 

But there are perhaps more times when we are called to endure injustice with grace and courage.

For it is better, if it is God’s will, to suffer for doing good than for doing evil. For Christ also suffered once for sins, the righteous for the unrighteous, to bring you to God.  (I Peter 3:17b-18)

And that's what it all comes down to.  When you have done the right thing, when you have spoken the truth in love, when you are taking the fall so that someone else doesn't have to . . . when it's God's will.  That's the point where you endure. 

It hurts to be wrongfully accused.  It hurts like hell to lose relationships that matter.  But when you can see that good is happening, that God is still in control, that He is moving, then it's all worth it. 

May I always be more than willing to suffer injustice for the greater good of God's master plan. 

May I see that in those times I have the opportunity to be Christ to those around me.  He suffered the ultimate injustice--His death--for the greater good--our lives. 

And may I never stop praying for reconciliation and healing in broken relationships . . . all in His good time.

Taking Off Our Shoes

"Do not come any closer," God said. "Take off your sandals, for the place where you are standing is holy ground." Exodus 3:5

Picture this with me:
 
Moses is out, minding his own business (or rather his father-in-law's business), and there is a bush.  Okay, pretty common.  But this one is on fire.  And it's not burning up.  And Moses approaches it, which probably isn't what I would have done.  I'm quite certain that I would have wandered away--quickly--in the other direction.  But Moses approaches it.
 
Then a voice speaks out of the bush.  And it calls him by name.  Yet he still doesn't wander away--quickly--in the other direction.  He stands there, and actually tells the bush, "Here I am!"  I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have said that or stuck around to find out what the crazy bush said next.
 
But Moses does.  He waits.  And then the bush, God, says, "Do not come any closer.  Take off your sandals, for the place where you are standing is holy ground."
 
I wonder at what point Moses figured out that it was God.  Obviously he had to know something was up because there was a bush on fire and not burning, but did he know that was God?  Or was it when he heard his name come from the fire?  Perhaps it wasn't until he was told to take off his sandals?  Or, maybe it wasn't until the next words came:
 

I am the God of your father: the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, the God of Jacob. 

 
Either way, Moses gets it, and he hides his face from God, because he is afraid to look at God. 
 
Moses and God have a special relationship.  Later in Exodus we read that God spoke to Moses face to face, as a man speaks to his friend (Exodus 33:11).  Exodus ends with Moses spending so much time in the presence of God--with his face uncovered--that he needs to wear a veil to protect the eyes of the Israelites from God's glory radiating from his face(Exodus 34:29-35).  But here, now, at the beginning, Moses takes off his sandals, and he hides his face.  Because that's what you do in the presence of a holy God.
 
I've been thinking a bit about this since our pastor's message on Sunday.  He talked about focusing on God--making Him big--instead of dwelling on the thoughts and opinions of people--making them small. 
 
Some of the commentaries I glanced at as I was looking up Exodus 3:5 suggested that by telling Moses to take off his shoes, God is saying one of two things.  Perhaps He is referring to taking off the shoes like we (men, mostly) are told to take hats off in church--it's a sign of respect, not for the place of worship as much as the Subject of worship.  So, while it's holy ground, it is only holy because God is there.  Another commentary suggested that it was because shoes get filthy as they walk along the ground, and taking them off is a symbol of shedding the dirt and filth of everyday living.  So we, too, need to cleanse ourselves of the dirt and filth of everyday living when we go to stand in the presence of God.
 
I hope it isn't too much of a leap to say that maybe taking off the shoes to stand in the presence of this holy God could be about recognizing that life is a bit different there.  Recognizing that my "shoes" (sorry, Pastor Tim!) might be the things that keep me from being fully God's--whether it's people's opinions, or my fear, or my pride, or my sin--and they need to come off.  I'm pretty certain that if I encountered that bush, I would have steered the sheep in another direction as quickly as I could.  The shoes would have helped with that.  But, if Moses had done that, would he have gotten to speak to God face to face later in his life?
 

“Earth's crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God;
And only he who sees takes off his shoes;
The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries.”
--Elizabeth Barret Browning

 
Holy, God.  Help me see You.  Help me walk toward You.  Help me take off everything that hinders me from standing fully in Your presence so that I might talk to You.  Face to face, as a man speaks to his friend.

The Twenty-fifth Sabbath

Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine!
Oh, what a foretaste of glory divine!
Heir of salvation, purchase of God,
Born of His Spirit, washed in His blood.

This is my story, this is my song,
Praising my Savior all the day long;
This is my story, this is my song,
Praising my Savior all the day long.

Perfect submission, perfect delight,
Visions of rapture now burst on my sight;
Angels, descending, bring from above
Echoes of mercy, whispers of love.

This is my story, this is my song,
Praising my Savior all the day long;
This is my story, this is my song,
Praising my Savior all the day long.

Perfect submission, all is at rest,
I in my Savior am happy and blest,
Watching and waiting, looking above,
Filled with His goodness, lost in His love.

This is my story, this is my song,
Praising my Savior all the day long;
This is my story, this is my song,
Praising my Savior all the day long.

"Blessed Assurance," Frances J. Crosby

Branching Out

I had an epiphany today.  As I was reading Sports Illustrated, I came across something I wanted to blog about.  I thought, "EEK!  I can't have two sports-related posts in a row!"  So then I was trying to figure out what to do, how to make it work in my head and on my blog . . . and then the lightbulb.

I have another blog.  I have for years.  In fact, it was the first blog (after Xanga, which is crazy), though I haven't posted in it since I moved everything to this blog.  Why don't I just hijack that one for sports posts?  I'm still meeting my goals, because the point was to try to write daily.  It wasn't to try to write daily on Better Than A Hallelujah.  It was the writing.

So, I'm branching out.  You can read what you want, but I encourage you (the five of you who also love sports) to check out She Loves Sports (originally known as FunnyWriterGirl).  Here's my first post: "It's All About Money." 

And now I got two posts in one day.  Because I'm clever.  :)