Like a Kid Again

It's 5:30 a.m., and I'm awake and watching the news.  I may put it on mute, because I find their reports a bit alarmist.  Still, I keep watching the school closing reports and the "Instant Alerts," hoping I find my daughter's school scroll across.  As each school close to us or even in our county is added, my heart soars a bit.  As each minute ticks along without it, my heart sinks a bit.

I hate driving in this crap.  I hate shoveling it off my car.  I hate being cold like snow makes me cold.  I hate having to bundle the girls into snow pants just to drive to school simply because an almost 4 year old and a 2 year old can't be expected to stay on their booted feet for a quick walk out to the car. 

We've been so spoiled this year with winter not really beginning until January 12.  I get that.  But I just don't think the snow is going to melt in a week this time.  That's probably why I told Beau he was welcome to look at job transfer opportunities in Hawaii.  "Just for a couple of years."

Here I sit.  Wondering if I'm going to be able to leave my car covered with snow, whether I can climb back in bed to start my day later, whether I should turn off my daughter's alarm clock, whether I'm going to regret all this hoping as I'm refereeing fights in a couple of hours, whether my two year old will be willing to play outside at some point--

       What?  Instant alert showing her school?  Was that really our county?  Yes!  Yes!  A confirming text alert.  SNOW DAY!!

One Week

So it's been one week since we started 2012.  That's an appropriate time for an assessment of how I'm doing meeting my goals so I know if I need to kick it in gear or revise anything that might be a bit over the top.

* Physically - I have been doing much better with my food.  There have been many days when I have not eaten what I was craving, because I put it off long enough that I forgot about it.  I did have a hamburger on Sunday, but it was only after choosing salads and healthier foods for four days instead of the burger I wanted.  Also, I worked out at 5:15 a.m. Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday; took the girls for a (brief) walk on Saturday; and walked 1.8 miles to a friend's house on Sunday.  Not 45 minutes a day, but definitely far better than I had been.  I've been averaging 6-7 hours of sleep a night, so I need to kick that in gear.

* Spiritually - I have read the Bible every day but one and am on track with my KINGDOM Reading Plan.  I've also been praying more regularly (led by Everyday Prayers by Scotty Smith) and have kept (mostly) current on my blessings list.

* Creatively - I finished my first book of the year, The Discovery of Witches, by Deborah Harkness (review to come tomorrow or later today).  I have also blogged every day but one.  I couldn't blog that day, though, because the internet was down.

All in all, I'd say this is going quite well.  As I was getting into bed last night, I thought about how I've "magically" had enough time to do things that I haven't been able to do before.  I thought about my fairly clean house--not even a goal, though it should have been (should probably add doing laundry into the goal list!--the organized playroom, the dishes done, and our morning routine organized.  And then I wondered how I possibly had time to do all of this when I didn't actually gain anything more than one hour in my morning.

Then I thought about how full my DVR is.  Oh.  So that's where I got those extra hours each day . . .

Let me never, never outlive my love for Thee

Years and years ago, I came across a book written by Steven Curtis Chapman and his pastor, Scotty Smith.  It is called Speechless, and I highly recommend it.  Knowing my appreciation for Scotty's writing, my writer/editor friend gave me a copy of his new book Everyday Prayers.  I've been using it along with the KINGDOM Reading Plan to guide my daily devotional time. 

Today I was struck by something that Scotty wrote.  I was struck by it because of all that is packed into the simple paragraph, as well as everything that is left out.  There is no condemnation, there is no guilt.  It's very matter of fact.  At the same time, it recognizes the free gift of salvation and that nothing more is required of us for our eternity to be secured.  And yet, when nothing more is given, something is definitely missing. 

One of my favorite hymns is "My Jesus, I Love Thee," by William R. Featherston:

I'll love Thee in life, I will love Thee in death
And praise Thee as long as Thou lendest me breath
And say when the death dew lies cold on my brow,
"If ever I loved Thee, my Jesus 'tis now"

As Scotty wrote:

May I never stop singing the last line in the hymn "O Sacred Head Now Wounded": "Should I fainting be, Lord, let me never, never outlive my love for thee."  That's my earnest, impassioned prayer, Jesus.  I don't fear losing my salvation.  I will stand firm to the end because of my standing in grace.  But what could be worse than for my love for you to cool down, degree by degree, as I get older?  Don't let that happen to me, Jesus.  Don't let that happen.  What could be worse than to finish the race with an ingrown, icy heart?  (January 9)

I want my love for Jesus to radiate out of me. I want it to be something that cannot be contained on my face and cannot be stopped by anything I endure. I want to lie on my deathbed and say, "Wow. I thought I loved you before. But if I've ever loved you, I know it's now."

The Second Sabbath

Arise, my soul, arise; shake off your guilty fears
The bleeding sacrifice in my behalf appears
Before the throne my surety stands
Before the throne my surety stands
My name is written on His hands

He ever lives above, for me to intercede
His all-redeeming love, His precious blood to plead
His blood atoned for every race
His blood atoned for every race
And sprinkles now the throne of grace

Five bleeding wounds He bears; received on Calvary
They pour effectual prayers, they strongly plead for me
"Forgive him, O forgive," they cry
"Forgive him, O forgive," they cry
"Nor let that ransomed sinner die!"

My God is reconciled; His pardoning voice I hear
He owns me for His child, I can no longer fear
With confidence I now draw nigh
With confidence I now draw nigh
And "Father, Abba Father," cry!

Arise, arise, arise, my soul, arise
Arise, arise, arise, my soul, arise
Shake off your guilty fear and rise!

Words by Charles Wesley, Music by Kevin Twit

Let It Be Said of Me

Recently, my sister (I think) commented on a blog entry I wrote in October 2010.  She said that one of the lines from a song I quoted is one that she hopes is considered for her gravestone.  It reads, "...the night of weeping shall be the morn of song."  Then she wrote that she wanted the song from which it's taken, "The Church's One Foundation," to be played at her funeral.   Almost as an afterthought, she included another line, "The praises won't end; I won't be silenced by the grave!"  That's fitting for her.  She plays the piano beautifully and she sings with perfect pitch and she loves to praise God.

My writer friend and I had a conversation years ago about what we wanted played at our funerals or written on our gravestones.  She said that if she lived a short life she wanted her gravestone to say something about being Home at last, as if to say even this short time on Earth is a long sojourn Home.  I've always wanted 2 Timothy 2:7 on my gravestone: "I have fought the fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith."  I also like, from Job 42:5, "My ears had heard of you, but now my eyes have seen you."  And if we had placed a gravestone for Baby Zion, I would have inscribed: "Fly to Jesus . . . and live."

Morbid conversation?  Perhaps.  But, at the end of the day, we're all going to leave a legacy.  There will be something about us, good or bad, that will be left behind.  They'll say things at our funerals about how we lived and what they'll miss about us.  It could be that we were generous.  It could be that we were faithful friends.  It could be that we made a lot of money, wrote a lot of books, painted a lot of pictures.  Or, it could be hard to find nice things to say about us.  Any way you look at it, though, there will be something.

I hope that when I'm gone people will remember me as someone who loved well.  I like to laugh and make people laugh, so I'd like them to say that I was funny and a good writer and someone who loves to worship.  I hope that they can truly say--that I can say and believe--that I have fought the fight, finished the race, and kept the faith.  I want people to remember the words I've written and the way they made them feel or what they made them learn.  I want people to believe that this world is better because I was here and they were here with me.  I want people to say that no matter what happened to me I stood in the power of Christ.

Perhaps that's what this sojourn is about: the legacy we'll leave.  What we'll have done that matters long beyond our time here.  It's true that the night of weeping will be the morn of song.  It's true that the grave can't silence my praises.  It's true that even a few short years on Earth are a long sojourn back Home.  And it's true that when I go, I will fly to Jesus and live.  And when I do, this is what I hope to leave behind:  "Let it be said of me, my source of strength, my source of hope is Christ alone."

Growing Up

When you read about lifestyle changes, you generally read that you should start small.  How do you eat an elephant?  One bite at a time.  So you aren't supposed to try to do everything at once, but you should break it down into more manageable goals.

I didn't do that this year. 

The other day as I was working out, my workout buddy and I were chatting about our common goal to get healthier this year.  I explained to her that I felt like I needed to do it all at once because I've tried it piece by piece before, and I never make it.  I don't know if I get bored or feel like it's not making a difference or if I just get distracted.  Whatever it is, it never works.  So this year I decided to go for broke.  Put all my proverbial eggs in one basket.  Go big or go home.  Go all in.  (I have more cliches if you need them.)

Some mornings it feels crazy, but at the end of the day it always feels accomplished.  As I was reading my Bible this morning, it felt like something more.  It felt like growing up.

In a word, what I'm saying is Grow up.  You're kingdom subjects.  Now live like it.  Live out your God-created identity.  Live generously and graciously toward others, the way God lives toward you.                                                                             Matthew 5:48, The Message

So, yeah.  I'm trying to eat the whole elephant in one bite.  I know that some morning it's going to feel more than crazy.  It's going to feel overwhelming.  But I also know that it's time I grow up.  God gave me the spirit of self-discipline.  Now I just need to live like it.  Live my God-created identity.  Be who I am.  So let's get to it.

You Are Blessed

Today's readings came from Genesis, Joshua, Psalms, and Matthew.  I'm pleased to be reading in The Message, because Peterson's phrasing brings ancient words to life in ways that make me feel I'm reading them for the first time.  Some of these passages are otherwise so familiar that I don't even actually absorb the words I'm reading.  His phrasing in two of today's passages have really given me something to chew on today.  First, from Psalm 4:6-8:

Why is everyone hungry for more? "More, more," they say. 
"More, more."
I have God's more-than-enough,
More joy in one ordinary day

Than they get in all their shopping sprees.
At day's end I'm ready for sound sleep,
For you, God, have put my life back together.

And, from Matthew 5, the Sermon on the Mount:

You're blessed when you're at the end of your rope.  With less of you there is more of God and his rule.
You're blessed when you feel you've lost what is most dear to you.  Only then can you be embraced by the One most dear to you.
You're blessed when you're content with just who you are--no more, no less.  That's the moment you find yourselves proud owners of everything that can't be bought.
You're blessed when you've worked up a good appetite for God.  He's food and drink in the best meal you'll ever eat.
You're blessed when you care.  At the moment of being 'care-full,' you find yourselves cared for.
You're blessed when you get your inside world--your mind and heart--put right.  Then you can see God in the outside world.
You're blessed when you can show people how to cooperate instead of compete or fight.  That's when you discover who you really are, and your place in God's family.
You're blessed when your commitment to God provokes persecution.  The persecution drives you even deeper into God's kingdom.

I have friends who are fighting a fight that I've never fought and hope I never have to.  Just over one year ago, their lives were flipped upside down--they'd lost what was most dear to them: the security of health for one of their children.  Through this year, as they've fought beside their nine-year-old son as he fights the negative effects of the chemo and radiation that are needed to fight his brain tumor, I've been encouraged and inspired. 

After high school ended, I went to a college outside of West Michigan and away from nearly everyone with whom I'd attended high school.  Through our different circumstances, the miles, and my inability to keep in touch, all of those friendships that had carried me through high school ended.  Including friendships with my closest friends.  I suppose this is normal, and something that happens to many of those relationships.  With the advent of Facebook, I've been able to at least get back in touch, if not rekindle old friendships, with many of those important people.  With Mitchell's family, that has come through their battle with cancer.

I don't know why that little boy, and that family.  I don't know why any family, really.  But I do know that I'm blessed to have known Mitchell's parents when I was younger (couldn't have made it through middle school and paper routes without his mom and dad!), and I'm blessed to walk alongside them now, even at a distance.  Because I have never known a family that is more blessed.

Surely this has been a hard year for them.  Surely this has been a year from hell for them.  Surely there have been tears and yelling at God and wanting to give up and being afraid to not fight and being afraid to fight.  Surely there has been more than they can imagine.  But, Mitchell is almost done with his treatments now.  He's on his last cycle and scheduled to be done on Februrary 15.  They can see the finish line, and by God's hand, they are in the lead.  Mitchell's mom shared all of this with us in her most recent Carepages post.  And then she talked about all they've gained.  She talked about how they've changed.  She quoted Laura Story's song, "Blessing":

'Cause what if Your blessings come through raindrops
What if Your healing comes through tears
What if a thousand sleepless nights
Are what it takes to know You're near
What if trials of this life are Your mercies in disguise

And then she reminded all of us that when we give our whole selves to Him--when we have nothing left to give, when He has broken our hearts--He gives His whole self back to us.  He puts our lives back together again.  We're changed, but we're blessed.

I'll Get By With a Little Help From My Friends

Oh, Tuesday morning, 5:15 came far too early.  Monday nights are always a late night for me, because I can't resist staying up late to get my Scott Caan Hawaii Five-0 fix.  Last night meeting my 2012 goals meant a bit of a late start for my television viewing, and I kept forgetting to fast forward through the commercials.  That all led to me not getting into bed until about 11:30 p.m.  I knew that 5:00 alarm was going to feel like only minutes after my head hit the pillow.

It did.

Thankfully I had a hot date at the gym this morning, and she was picking me up at 5:15 a.m.  I'm grateful that I didn't have a choice to sleep in and just "go later" (ie. not at all) because Leah was going to be waiting in front of my house.  I didn't want her to start honking or anything and waking up the rest of the neighborhood so everyone would know that I slacked off!  And then there was the mutual fear we shared that our friend Eric would show up at the gym at 6:00 a.m. and report to all he knew that we were missing.  (Let me note publicly that we were there, and he was not.)

Chatty Leah and Chatty Beka probably annoyed most of the rest of the gym goers, but it surely made my 35 minutes on the treadmill feel about as short as my night of sleep felt.  And, I have to say, I was actually pretty excited about going to the gym this morning. 

After the gym, I made some tea and did my reading for today and spent some time in prayer.  Three days down.  How many more to make this a habit?  Grateful to have some friends to help me make it there.

Raising My Ebenezer

In my Bible reading for today, God led the Israelites through yet another river on dry ground.  This time they're heading in to claim victory and settle in The Promised Land, and they need to cross the Jordan River to get there.  {There are also a number of other things they need to do, such as allow God to completely "dispossess" the land from all the people settling it.  If we watch the news today, we can clearly see how well it worked out for them when they decided to live "peacefully" with all these people instead.}  In Joshua 3: 9-13 in  The Message, after Joshua has told the priests to begin crossing the Jordan with the Ark of the Covenant and instructs the Israelites to watch and pay attention to what God is saying, he says, "Look at what's before you: the Chest of the Covenant.  Think of it--the Master of the entire earth is crossing the Jordan as you watch."

Once they are safely across--with "not one wet foot"--Joshua instructs a man from each of the 12 tribes of Israel to take a stone from the middle of the Jordan River and build a monument on the banks to remember the day that God led them through on dry land.  This raising of the Ebenezer is a common thing in the Old Testament.  It's a reminder of God's presence.  His intervention.  His grace.  His plan.

This morning I was reminded of an Ebenezer that I could raise alongside US-131 heading south from Cadillac.  Last year we were driving our full van of sleeping beauties home from Beau's parents' house, and the roads were bad.  We should have stayed in Cadillac, but we weren't prepared for that, so we ventured home.  At one point, as we were driving across a bridge spanning a fairly deep ravine, we hit black ice.  Beau completely lost control of the car, and we were sliding toward the bridge railing and the edge of the ravine.  For 20 long seconds we slid, within feet of striking a railing that likely wouldn't have held us at our speed.  As we slid, I said, over and over again, "It's okay.  It's okay.  It's okay."

Beau reminded me of that this morning as we drove the roads of the first day of real winter to hit West Michigan this year.  He said, "You kept saying it was okay, but it wasn't okay.  I didn't have control, and I didn't think I'd get it back.  I figured we were going over." 

With tears in my eyes, I recalled my feelings at that moment.  And I replied, "I wasn't telling you that you were in control or that we'd be fine because you'd get control back.  I was telling you that it was okay if we hit.  It was okay if we went over.  It was okay if we were injured or even if we died.  To be honest, I'm quite pleased that was my first response.  Because it really would have been okay.  We know where we're going, and we know Who holds us."

And it really would have been okay.  Because we could look at Who was before us on that bridge.  The Master of the entire earth was crossing ahead of us and behind us and next to us.  He had us in his hands.  He was in control, even if we weren't.  Think of it!

The First Sabbath

Another year is dawning, dear Father, let it be
In working or in waiting, another year with Thee.
Another year of progress, another year of praise,
Another year of proving Thy presence all the days.

Another year of mercies, of faithfulness and grace,
Another year of gladness in the shining of Thy face;
Another year of leaning upon Thy loving breast;
Another year of trusting, of quiet, happy rest.

Another year of service, of witness for Thy love,
Another year of training for holier work above.
Another year is dawning, dear Father, let it be
On earth, or else in Heaven, another year for Thee.

--"Another Year is Dawning," Frances Havergal

New Beginnings

It's the day of resolutions.  The new beginning to becoming all that I really am.  As I face 2012, I find myself wondering if I'll make it, or if I'll be sitting here one year from today, writing the same thing.  I don't want my resolutions to be just dreams, I want them to be something that can really come true.  Something that I can really make happen. 

Armed with my already well-worn copy of Reshaping It All by Candace Cameron Bure (yeah, I was skeptical too), I'm confident that I will fail miserably at keeping any of these resolutions.  But I know who won't.  And so, here I go, reshaping it all, with my eyes on the One who makes all things possible.

Resolved, to live according to the truth found in 1 Timothy 2:17, recognizing that God has given me the spirit of self discipline, so I don't need to search it out anywhere else, and He has given me the spirit of love, so I can be found faithful.

Accordingly, I will strive to live out self discipline and faithful love in the following ways:
* Physically: Food is fuel.  God intended it to taste good and be enjoyable, but "it is only a cookie--it cannot help."  Exercise is an essential part of honoring God physically.  So is sleep. 
    Goal - I want to lose 60 pounds by December 31.
    Plan - I will learn to control my portions, stop eating when I am full, wait 15 minutes before giving in to a craving, get 7 hours of sleep each night, and exercise at least 45 minutes each week day.

* Spiritually: God is my life.  Without Him I am nothing, and I have nothing.  I need to center my day on Him.
    Goal - I want to read through the Bible this year and live a more grateful life.
    Plan - I will spend 30 minutes praying and reading the Bible each morning, using the KINGDOM Bible Reading Plan.  I will also write down a blessing each day using the year calendar from A Holy Experience.

* Mentally: I have spent the last year feeling dry and like I'm barely holding on.  I ended the year getting organized with colored Sharpies and a giant calendar on the wall.  But I still owe myself--and God, who created me with this mind and these passions and talents--more than organized chaos.  I need to challenge and express myself.
    Goal - I want to blog at least 25 days a month, and I want to read at least 24 books this year.
    Plan - I'll read all of our book club books (have the list and can start reading ahead), and I will also try to tackle at least one additional book from my bookshelf each month.  I'm also going to "steal" 15 minutes each day for myself where I can explore my thoughts on my blog. 

On the 24th of each month I'm going to reflect on the previous month so I can measure my progress and make any adjustments I need to.  So, that's it.  Above all, I want to honor Him with each of these areas of my life.  I know that tapping in to the power that He has given me and making Him the focus of it all, I'll make it.  When 2013 dawns, I hope to look just a bit more like who I was created to be and a much greater reflection of the Father who made me that way.

Behold, your King

I sang on the worship team at my church yesterday morning for our Christmas service. It's such a fun service to be part of, but yesterday was especially meaningful for me. We sang "O Holy Night," which has always been one of my favorite Christmas songs. The worship team struggled through our practices of it as we "Christian Reformed kids" weren't familiar with the "Reformed" version we were singing. The words were a bit different, and the tune hit the words that were familiar in just a little bit different way. And that second verse! What was with that second verse?!


We struggled.

Then it came time for the service. We sang. We managed to overcome what we thought we knew about the song and actually just sing what was on the page. And the second verse really hit me.

Led by the light of faith serenely beaming,
With glowing hearts by His cradle we stand.
So led by light of a star sweetly gleaming,
Here come the wise men from Orient land.
The King of kings lay thus in lowly manger;
In all our trials born to be our friend.
He knows our need, to our weakness is no stranger,
Behold, your King! Before him lowly bend!
Behold, your King! Before him lowly bend!

That really is Christmas, after all. "The King of kings lay thus in lowly manger." What a ridiculous notion, this King in a manger. When we got home from church, I said to Ellie, "Who ever heard of a king born in a stable?" She shouted, "Me! I have! Jesus!" It's still a ridiculous idea, this King in a manger. But He was born to be our friend. He knows our need, He is no stranger to our weakness, and He came to make us whole. To bring us peace. And, as Pastor Tim pointed out yesterday, that peace isn't the peace I ask for from my girls or from our world governments. It isn't an absence of conflict. It is a deep-rooted, inside-out wholeness. It is life. It is joy. It is shalom. So when you look at that manger, when you approach this week, this season, remember.

Behold, your King! He's that baby there. That God, become flesh. That Emmanuel. He came to be your friend in the middle of wherever you are. Behold, your King!

We're not home yet.

So we have some friends whose marriage appears to be over.  We have prayed with them and prayed for them.  We have counseled them.  We have cried with them.  We have hoped for them.  And now we are surprised by whom they are turning out to be.  All of it serves to remind me that we just aren't home yet.  God, I wish we were back.

Still, it's Reformation Day.  It's the day that we remember that the Word of God is for all of us.  It's also the day (thanks, Dad) that we remember that the Word of God is life transforming and should never be taken lightly.  And it's the day that I am reminded that the Church's one foundation, and MY one foundation, is Jesus Christ.  No matter what. 

Though with a scornful wonder
we see her sore oppressed,
by schisms rent asunder,
by heresies distressed,
yet saints their watch are keeping;
their cry goes up, "How long?"
And soon the night of weeping
shall be the morn of song.


Mid toil and tribulation,
and tumult of her war,
she waits the consummation
of peace forevermore;
'til, with the vision glorious,
her longing eyes are blest,
and the great church victorious
shall be the church at rest.
(The Church's One Foundation, Samuel Stone)

We sang these words in church this morning, and it made me weep with the beauty and the promise of it all. We aren't home yet, but we will be one day soon.  And in that day where there is no more night and no more pain and no more divorce, we, the church victorious, shall finally be the church at rest.

Come quickly, Lord Jesus.

Where I Stand

A friend who has known me since college recently expressed surprise at learning some of my “social” (political) leanings. It was over Facebook, so I sat down to write a quick message back to her.


It happened to be right around National Coming Out Day, and it struck me that this was, for me, a bit of a coming out. I can’t possibly liken it completely to the coming out of our dear LGBTQ members of society, but it was still quite scary. I know that some in my circle wouldn’t look at me the same to know what really goes on in my head and why I struggle so much on the 1st Tuesday after the 1st Monday in November. I never know how to vote, because I never fit into one party. And I can hear the hateful talk from some people that I consider friends or at least close acquaintances. But I don’t think fear should keep anyone in the closet. Not the straight allies or the teenagers who realize they are gay or the politically moderate or the thoughtful followers of Christ.  And I also think for me and the LGBTQ teens who are scared out of their minds about what will happen to them that there are more people than I think--and some of them will surprise me--who will fully support me and be proud of my courage.  I also know that it really does get better.

So {breathes deeply}, here goes.

I have ALWAYS been a straight ally. :) I've just been closeted most of my life, because I get so sad when the debate comes into the church and the church is too often hateful. My cousin and one of my close friends (okay a couple) are gay, and I could be nothing but loving and supportive of them.

Beyond that, I would be a democrat if they believed in actually holding people accountable instead of just handing things out. I vote the issues, not the party. I didn't vote for Obama, but only because Beau and his gift of discernment didn't trust him. Now I'm glad I didn't. I'll be voting against Obama in 2012 (unless it's Sarah Palin, then I'm writing someone in), and I'll be voting mostly Republican in November, but not because they're Republicans. I'm an independent and would register that way if MI did that. I'm prolife, but pro all life in that I'm anti capital punishment and pro AIDS money and pro stem cell research. If I had to pick a hot-button issue, it's definitely not voting anti abortion, because I feel like we still don't offer enough support for young mothers and I believe that if you are going to vote against abortion then you damn well better be willing to love your daughter through her teen pregnancy or take in a child whose parents have decided to turn her out. And then, perhaps you should be willing to take on responsibility for that baby, too, so that the state doesn't have to. I don't think you can legislate morality. I think that parents who have extra embryos should be given the option to say they want them used for stem cell research instead of being "forced" to keep them frozen or adopt them out. And I'm pro civil union and same sex partner benefits. I think that there is no reason that uniting with a partner for life should be prohibited for those who are LGBTQ through no choice of their own. And, as someone once said, why should the heterosexuals have the market on getting divorced? Being gay isn't leading to the downfall of our society, but being stupid and ignorant and a workaholic and hateful and abusing your kids is. Legislate hate if you really want to make a difference. I don't think that if you hand out condoms in schools or offer a needle exchange program you are giving your blessing to premarital sex and IV drug use; I just think you're saving someone's life. And, at the end of the day, that's what I want to do. I'm sure that I'm "wrong" on some of this and that I don't understand fully what the Bible is saying. But if I'm going to err, which I am, because I'm human, then I'd rather err on the side of compassion. That's what Jesus did. And I'm an independent follower of Jesus. I was Conservative growing up, and then I became Liberal for a while. I've probably moved a bit more Conservative, but mostly I've become more gray. More gray for everyone else and more black and white for me. I was watching an old episode of The West Wing (best show ever) recently, and Bartlet says to Toby, "It's MY Catholicism." As in, the standards that God has for me are my standards to keep, not my standards to make sure everyone else keeps.

Whew.  Feels good.  Come what may.

From the Mouths of Babes

Two conversations recently overheard:

Ellie: Meg, I'm going to teach you how to be a safe driver, because I want all my kids to be safe drivers.
Meg: Okay.
E: When you are driving, if you see a car in front of you, go around it.  Because if you don't, you can get in an accident.  And if you get in an accident, you can die.  Do you want to die, Meg?
M: Um, no . . .
E: Well, in a few years, when you're older, you're gonna die.



Ellie (to Meg, playing the role of Grandma): Grandma, why do we need sunscreen to go in the hot tub?
Meg: Because it's hot.

Signs Fall is Approaching

* Pinky-orange leaves on the big maple tree on the way back from the cottage

* Orange leaves caught on the wind

* Two weeks of football covers on Sports Illustrated

* Sneezing and itchy eyes

Overheard Sunday at Church*

Ah, what random questions parents must field on Communion Sunday when there is no Children's Worship.

"What?  Jesus died?  Did God die, too?"

"Is the blood of Christ really juice?"

"That's the body of Christ?" 
"No honey, it's just bread." 
"Oh, can I touch it?"

"Is that blood?!"
"No.  It's juice."
"Well it looks like blood.  I think it's blood."

"You aren't going to heaven any time soon, are you?!"

"What's an orgy?"

* Names withheld to protect the curious children and frustrated (or alarmed) parents.

What Do I Know Of Holy

I made You promises a thousand times,
I tried to hear from Heaven, but I talked the whole time.
I think I made You too small. I never feared You at all. No.
If You touched my face, would I know You?
Looked into my eyes, could I behold You?

What do I know of You
who spoke me into motion?
Where have I even stood
but the shore along Your ocean?
Are You fire?
Are You fury?
Are You sacred?
Are you beautiful?
What do I know?
What do I know of Holy?

I guess I thought that I had figured You out.
I knew all the stories and I learned to talk about
How You were might to save.
But those were only empty words on a page.
Then I caught a glimpse of who You might be.
The slightest hint of You brought me down to my knees.

What do I know of You
who spoke me into motion?
Where have I even stood
but the shore along Your ocean?
Are You fire?
Are You fury?
Are You sacred?
Are you beautiful?
What do I know?
What do I know of Holy?

What do I know of Holy?
What do I know of wounds that will heal my shame?
And a God who gave life its name?
What do I know of Holy?
Of the One who the angels praise?
All creation knows Your name
on earth and heaven above
what do I know of this Love?

What do I know of You
who spoke me into motion?
Where have I even stood
but the shore along Your ocean?
Are You fire?
Are You fury?
Are You sacred?
Are you beautiful?
What do I know?
What do I know of Holy?

--Addison Road, "What Do I Know of Holy," Addison Road


My daughter couldn't have a more beautiful name. And my children couldn't have a more beautiful Hope.

Three Months?!

My blog is the first of three home pages that greet me every time I open my web browser.  Every day I think, "You should post something today.  People are counting on you.  You have something to say."  While it may be untrue that people are counting on me, I should post "today," and I do have something to say.  But every day life takes more time than the sun and moon are willing to allot.  So every day I say nothing.

The other day, though, I looked at FunnyWriterMommy when I opened my web browser, and I thought three months?!  THREE MONTHS?!  Seriously?  Something must be done.  Three months is a very long time. 

That was one week ago.

I didn't know when I began that day what the day would bring, had already brought.  And, reflecting on the past three months, I didn't think about what that amount of time really meant.

Three months is, indeed, a long time.  But, somehow, by the end of last week Monday, it seemed like a very short time.  Three months ago, we baptized Addison, giving her to God, acknowledging that she had always been His, and thanking Him for the short life of Baby Zion.  Then, we got back to living our lives.  Since then, Addie has learned to eat "real" food.  She has learned to roll over from her front to her back and back over again.  She babbles now, and she giggles.  Megan speaks much more clearly now and is learning to potty on the toilet, and Ellie has really learned to read.  For us, it has been a long time.

But for one family, the time was too short. 

Three months ago, Vaughn Arthur Barckholtz wasn't sick.  He was just a healthy, four-year-old boy learning to enjoy books and loving his mom, his dad, his cousins, his flashlight, and his every day.  He was full of life.  Then he started to get bruises.  He started to have pain where he didn't before.  He started to get sick.

Less than three months ago, he was diagnosed with ALL Leukemia, and he was sent to the University of Michigan Hospital in Ann Arbor.  In March, he beat his leukemia.  But then he got RSV and pneumonia.  He beat the RSV, though his lungs were severely damaged, but he couldn't beat the pneumonia.  It was diagnosed as MRSA.  Then, by a miracle, he beat that, too.  Machines were keeping him alive as treatments tried to fix his lungs.  But he was alive.  And he was free of all those letters that had tried to take him from his family.

Then, on a Saturday, he started bleeding.  Doctors couldn't understand where the bleeding was coming from, or why.  Two days later, one week ago today, his heart rate skyrocketed while his blood pressure plummeted.  His family gathered, and they told him they loved him.  Because they did.  The last three months hadn't changed that.  But it wasn't enough.  For reasons we won't understand until they cease to matter as we stand at the feet of our Savior, God called him home.  Just a couple of days shy of 4 and a 1/2 years after God delivered him into the arms of his parents, God called him home.  That wasn't long enough, God.  It just wasn't.  How can three months seem like such a long time while 4 1/2 years isn't long enough?  And how can three months be a long time for some but be far too sudden for a little boy to go from healthy to gone from this world?

I don't know.  But I know that Beau's cousin Chad and his wife Sarahbeth will never fully recover from this three months.

O God, whose beloved Son took children into his arms and blessed them: Give us grace to entrust Vaughn to your never-failing care and love, and bring us all to your heavenly kingdom; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. 

Most merciful God, whose wisdom is beyond our understanding: Deal graciously with Chad and Sarahbeth in their grief.  Surround them with your love, that they may not be overwhelmed by their loss, but have confidence in your goodness, and strength to meet the days to come; through Jesus Christ our Lord.  Amen.

Taken from The Book of Common Prayer, The Burial of the Dead: Rite Two, "At the Burial of a Child"

Four Small Roses

Sunday, January 10, 2010.  Baptism Day.

It was a special day on its own.  The day that we would present our newest daughter to God, acknowledging that we are sinners, vowing that it is only Jesus' blood that makes us clean, and committing ourselves to raise our little one in that Truth.  A day when we are reminded that God chooses us, not for anything that we can offer, but simply because we are His.  It would have been a beautiful day any way you looked at it.

It became much more than that.

Since I learned that I would deliver two children, one living and one truly alive, I have wondered what baptism would bring.  And I wanted it to be about three children--the one who is living, the one who is truly alive, and the One who is the Life.  I wanted to celebrate Addie Maye and her place in His world, in His heart.  I wanted to celebrate Zion and that baby's place in our eternal Home.  And I wanted to celebrate Jesus, His birth, His death, and His life, as the hope that we can give Addie that she will one day know her beautiful twin again.  I talked a bit about it, but I never mentioned "memorial service."  That's what I wanted, though.

And, because God knows my desires and can do all things, that's exactly what I got.

We placed a single pink rose, in a vase bought just for the occasion, on the organ.  It stood in front of the screen displaying the words to "Precious Lord, Take My Hand" (on my "play at my funeral" list) and "In Christ Alone."  We saw it as we beseeched God to help us stand in His power from life's first cry to final breath when He takes our hands and leads us Home.  That was Zion's rose, and it is Addie's vase.  It will hold a rose on every birthday and all of Addie's special days, and it will remind us of what we have lost and also what lies ahead for us.

I also asked our pastor to say a simple prayer for Zion when he prayed for Addie after my dad finished baptizing her.  His words brought tears to our eyes.  As he said, "We also think of Zion, this silent twin who is anything but silent in Your presence," Meggie saw my tears and climbed into my arms to dry them.  Seeing that she couldn't, she nestled in to my neck to hold me.  Precious one.

That was what we planned, though both meant more than we could have dreamed.  What we didn't plan was even more beautiful in a way.  And it came in two parts.

The bulletin had a note about the rose, which I requested.  But it went on from there:

We give thanks to God for his grace as we celebrate this opportunity to baptize Addison Maye.  The rose on the organ is in memory of Addison's twin, Zion, who passed away in utero.  The sprinkled water of baptism is God's prescribed visible expression of his assurance that we are cleansed through the scandalous wounds, shed blood, and death of Jesus on the cross.  God knows and chooses us long before we are coneceived.  He told Jeremiah, 'Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart.'  Scripture makes it clear that God delights in children, especially pre-born children.  Could there be special grace for those who are taken home to their heavenly Father before they are born?  John Newton, an eighteenth-century Anglican and the author of hymns such as 'Amazing Grace,' wrote, 'I cannot be sorry for the death of infants.  How many storms do they escape!  Nor can I doubt, in my private judgment, that they can be included in the election of grace.  Perhaps those who die in infancy are the exceeding great multitude of all people, nations, and languages mentioned [in Revelation 7:9] in distinction from the visible body of professing believers who were marked on their foreheads and openly known to be the Lord's.'  The gospel, made visible through the sacraments and heard through preaching, is God's gracious provision for the storms that Beau, Beka, and every one of us will not escape.

Then there was Tuesday.  We came home from a long day of work to flowers on our front porch.  There were from someone in our church, someone we know but don't really know well.  And they were a beautiful gift from the Body of Christ, which grieves when we grieve and rejoices when we rejoice.  The card said it so simply and so profoundly at the same time:

Four small roses in your hearts: three will bloom here, and one will bloom in Heaven. 

Indeed.  And amen.