A Time to Grieve

Monday we spent an hour or so sitting with many friends and relatives of a family who'd just laid to rest their grandfather, dad and husband. For many years they were part of our cul-de-sac family . . . one of the families we have shared memories with of school functions, street hockey and car pooling.

While waiting, I read his life story, ending with being diagnosed with ALS on December 2, 2011 and passing away on June 2, 2012. I got tears in my eyes. Six months to the day!

What would I do if I knew I had six months? It is something to contemplate. Something we do not take time for on a day to day basis. Why is it a memorial service that forces us to stop and look  possible realities in the face?

Of course, it's hard to know what I would do. Would denial take over? Would I take in all the life I could or would I waste away pining?  Some of my feelings would depend on physical limitations. All I can say is what I think I would want to do . . . besides organizing my underwear drawer . . . at least some reflections.

I think I would continue to work on leaving behind a bank of good memories for loved ones to treasure. I think I would continue to work on photos and recipes for a possible future cookbook.  I would go on lots of dates with my H.
I think I'd want him to retire . . . and oh, how I'd want to pour love into my kids and grandkids!  I would definitely read up more about the place I'm going and I'd want to let those around me know of the hope I have . . . the assurance that life is not just about the here and now. Jesus said, "I am going to prepare a place for you . . . that you may be where I am." (John 14: 2-3) Why . . . I might even stop total strangers and tell them, "I am dying, but I know where I'm going. Do you?" What would I have to lose?

Those were just some of my thoughts . . .
and yet, I realize I'm taking a chance here at sounding trite. I really do not know. It's good not to know . . . but good to think about it sometimes and ask if we are on the right track. Every day is a precious gift. I do not want to forget that.

A Time to Celebrate

Yesterday afternoon Tehya, Paeton and Makenna came over in the afternoon. We walked down to their mom's old elementary school and spent some time at the playground. They showed us their monkey bar tricks. we pushed some swings and went down the slide.

When we came back, I put some mini pizzas in the oven, added some fruit, veggies and dessert . . . and we ate on the patio. It was fun to watch how much they could eat.

After that they donned some old bathing suits that stay here and enjoyed the hot tub. I watched them from the kitchen window as I cleaned up the dishes and had to almost pinch myself again.

photo credit Tripp Flythe - Indonesia

The fact that we could watch the kids while their mom and dad went out to celebrate their anniversary was pretty special. It's hard to believe all of the changes that have transpired in twelve years . . . from a newly wed couple preparing to go overseas . . . to letting them go . . . to living part of our life there vicariously ourselves, through them .  . . and now to celebrate all the firsts of living in the same city.

Happy Anniversary, Chris and Julene!

We are so glad you are home!

Taste of Summer

The pollen was flying .  . . but the sun was out and . . . after the kids had smeared up my glass sliding door enough . . . we went outside.



The feel of freedom is contagious



awakening your senses to the beauty around.



Landon giggled in spite of the spill.
He must have watched how fast Papa goes with the lawnmower.



I brought out some Popsicles and suddenly realized that this might be Koen's first.  I guess if I blog about it - what happens at Grammy's won't stay at Grammy's . . .

but he was cute!!
I had to smile about the fact that, although he normally likes to run around with his treat,
this time he made himself comfy on the chase

and enjoyed every lick to the last drop . . . possibly wondering how something this yummy had not been brought to his attention sooner.

Makenna smiled

while Landon tried to act his cool, controlled self.





Watching them, I was sorry I had not brought one out for myself.

Precious, unexpected moments these were.

  

Shaped by God

 

One of my favorite Christian authors is Max Lucado. I like his story-telling style in which he takes everyday experiences to a level that causes the reader to see more than meets the eye. His writing has a profound way to touch the deeper parts of our emotions, sensing more of the grace of God in our life and how we might show that grace to others. By his own admission, Max is an average man, writing for the average person.

While browsing our local bookstore a while back, I noticed a pretty little square shaped book with a beautiful dust cover depicting photos of hands working on pottery. The title, Shaped by God, as well as the author's name caught my attention and I bought it, possibly to use as a gift. But it stayed with me and as I read the Foreword I learned that this was his first ever published book, originally published in 1985, by the name On the Anvil.

I learned something else. When Max Lucado put his first manuscript together, he did not know the name of a single publisher. He went to the library, copied the names of fifteen publishers and sent off fifteen copies. Six came back unopened. Six had opened it, but said no. Three expressed interest and one sent him a contract.

His humble beginning is hard to believe when you read that today Max Lucado has more than 100  million products in print, including gift books, children's books, Study Bibles, devotionals, videos, greeting cards and more. I see a message of encouragement in this story alone. A message to take a chance and see what God will do.

 

Shaped by God is a collection of short stories written and compiled with the blacksmith's shop in mind; a shop housing broken tools, those on the anvil, and those ready for noble purposes. These inspiring stories remind us that we are all somewhere in this shop, either sitting idle, being worked on, or being used for the right purpose.

 

As readers we are challenged to ask where we fit into the workshop. In doing so, we are warned about the deadly trap of complacency that we can so easily fall into. On the day I read this I was reminded of this on The News, in the setting of airport security. How dangerous when we fall into the hands of someone who has become complacent at their job. And to quote Lucado,

 

"The most deadly trick of Satan is not to rob us of answers. It's to steal our questions."

May we not be afraid to ask questions, even those that might be painful and call for some shaping, in order to make us God's chosen instruments.

 

I see White

When our kids lived in Indonesia, we'd chat on the phone and often ask to say hello to the grands . . . just so we could hear their voice (skype was not working well) and one of the questions Papa loved asking them was, "Is it snowing there?" It was usually a good ice breaker.  (Silly Papa)

The other day Makenna looked out the window and asked me if it was snowing.  Seriously . . . how should she know?

A lot of white stuff came down this weekend. I thought that, with having lost a number of the great but offending trees recently . . .  it would be less - but not so.

The cottonwoods are super productive this year.

Verses from Psalm 90

Lord, you have been our dwelling place throughout all generations.
before the mountains were born
or you brought forth the earth and the world,
from everlasting to everlasting you are God.

Teach us to number out days aright
that we may gain a heart of wisdom.

Satisfy us in the morning with your unfailing love
that we may sing for joy and be glad all our days.
Make us glad for as many days as you have afflicted us,
for as many years as we have seen trouble. 

Driving in the car, yesterday, I was listening to Laura Story's song called Blessings . . . a second voice, that of a nine-year-old, was singing along and filling the car with raspy, sweet innocence. Did she know what the words meant? She sang like she did...

". . . 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?"

Sleepless nights. I don't think she knows of them yet, but maybe . . .  just maybe . . . one day she will. And she will know that in those times God is the Only One listening and waiting. Some of our greatest blessings do come from trials we would not have chosen, because they have caused us to call out to Him and feel Him near.