Into the immediate more immediate embrace of God

A while ago, we “adopted” this song as our Family Song.

 

How We Love ~ Beth Neilson Chapman

 

Life has taught me this
Every day is new
And if anything is true
All that matters
When we're through
Is how we love

Faced with what we lack
Some things fall apart
But from the ashes new dreams start
All that matters to the heart
Is how we love

How we love
How we love
From the smallest act of kindness
In a word, a smile, a touch

In spite of our mistakes
Chances come again
If we lose or if we win
All that matter in the end
Is how we love

How we love
How we love
I will not forget your kindness
When I needed it so much

Sometimes we forget
Trying to be so strong
In this world of right and wrong
All that matters when we're gone
All that mattered all along
All we have that carries on
Is how we love

 

 

 

At about 9:45 tonight, Mom fell into the more immediate embrace of God’s Love. Dad and all three of her children were with her ~ loving her, just like she taught us.

 

The Narthex of Heaven and Thin Places

Two weeks ago today, the cadre of family who were in town, made the trip to the doctor’s office to get the latest “scan results.” We sat together as the doctor told my mother (who was sitting in a wheelchair and holding my father’s hand): “The medicine isn’t working anymore.” We all knew it was coming.

When my mother asked, in slurred speech, “that means I’m dying, then?” the doctor answered “Not today…but yes.”

Hospice contacts were made, and a couple days later, we moved Mom out of rehab and back to her and Dad’s apartment.

When the hospice bed arrived, dad had it set up in their bedroom. We raised it to the same level as “their” bed, and took the inside guard rail down, and now they sleep as they have for more than 56 years…side by side.

My siblings and I have been taking 48-hour shifts, sitting together with Dad through this end-of-this-life journey. Talking about the privilege of it all and noticing all the “thin spaces” between heaven and earth.

Yesterday, my friends Sue and Peter came and visited my folks…Later in the day, Sue emailed me and said that “Tommie is in the narthex of heaven.” (Translation? “Tommie is in the foyer of heaven.”).

Sue is the one who reminded me of “thin spaces.”

I see them everywhere right now.

I see thin spaces in my siblings who have simply been present, daring to walk right into the face of death and carry patient, gentle, exhausted, enduring, no-matter-what love.

I see thin spaces in my children – who climb in bed beside Granny and rub her head and, in their quietest “library voice” tell her about their day, with absolute tenderness and “naturalness” – even though she doesn’t respond. “But, mom she can still hear us.” I see thin spaces when my children sing “Up above my head…I see Jesus in the air…and I really do believe there’s a heaven somewhere.”

I see the thin space between heaven and earth in the choreography that my husband is doing (laundry, cooking, cleaning, homework) – just so I can spend all the time I possibly can in this inexplicably peaceful place – where love is truly, truly being embodied…heavenly…Heavenly…HEAVENLY love.

Mostly, of course, I see the thin space between heaven and earth in the way my father is with my mother (not really much different than he has always been)…wise, gracious, tender, faithful, gentle, intentional, courageous, open, encouraging, soft, strong.

 

The Hospice Social Worker told us, earlier today, that Mom has about 12-48 hours left in this place.

We are all (my mom and dad and brother and sisters and I) together…Walking mom into resurrection. Letting go as she walks first through the narthex of heaven and then through the thin place of separation and finally into perfect, total no-matter-what, the-end-amen Love.

Peeling Paint, Splinters, and Thanksgiving

My family and I were on vacation a couple or three weeks ago. We had saved and saved and saved money every month for more than a year so that we could rent a place at the beach (I am learning more and more what a luxury it is to actually be able to save money!). We’d packed up on Friday and Saturday (check list in hand) and had the truck loaded, bikes on the rack and were ready to head out as soon as worship was over on Sunday.

Spirits high, kids happy, sun and fun and beach ahead, we drove and sang along to the radio…very lovely!

Three hours later, spirits still high, we pulled through the gates of the beach “community,” and – filled with anticipation – got directions to the address of our place-for-the-week.

We pulled into the driveway and parked…And before we even entered, my head went “What the what, what?!?! You’re kidding me!!!”

Paint peeling, cobwebs dangling, wood on the steps just waiting to impale its splinters into my children’s, or worse my feet!

My jaw obviously clinched, and my husband patted my hand.

When we opened the door and went inside, it just got worse (Anybody remember the Deena Carter song: “Did I Shave My Legs for This?”…That’s how I felt!)!

Now…You need to know that I pride myself on being a “responsive” person (frustratingly so according to some folks who would rather I be more “reactionary”), but all thoughtful responsiveness flew out the door, and my reaction was pretty immediate and somewhat/pretty/quite negative. For a couple minutes, I refused to unpack anything…“We’re not staying here!!! Did you walk across the floor??? The wood is coming up!!! One of the kids is going to fall through!”

It was so bad, that my husband did something that I don’t remember him ever doing before…He took me into the nasty, cramped, dark kitchen and said, “You have got to get it together!”

“Well you’d better call someone, or else I will!” I said.

“I’ll call,” he said.

I stayed in there and fumed for a few moments; then hollered at the kids to get down to the truck and start hauling things up…They did.

I very reluctantly unpacked a few things and threw them (literally) into cabinets, trying to ignore the peeling shelf paper.

When I finally came out of the kitchen, Cliff and the kids were standing there with their bathing suits on.

“Come on Mom! We’re going to the beach!” I shot lasers out of my eyes straight at my husband…the kind that say, “I am not ready to not be fuming!!!”

While I got dressed, they went outside and found the bike helmets and pumped the tires up.

When found our way to the beach (which, I noted loudly, was farther away than advertised), one of the kids said, “Mom, can we get in the water!” I grunted at them, unfolded my chair, slammed it into the sand, opened my book and promptly buried my snorting nose in it.

Needless to say, before I could even start reading, two soaking wet, squealing, sand-covered kids ran up to me and said, “THIS IS AWESOME!!!!”

Perspective (haven’t I already posted a blog about that?).

I told someone the other day that I am tired of learning life-lessons…You’d think that, by the time I’m as old as I am, I’d have learned them all!

We came to know the maintenance folks for the “house” pretty well (they had to come every…that’s right EVERY day to work on the AC…eventually just putting in a window unit and bringing more fans!)…And, yes, we did get a hunk of our money refunded. But, it would have been so easy for me to miss out on love and laughter and “awesome” and blessings and grace and on and on and on.

My friend Kelly B. took on someone’s 7-day gratefulness-challenge (or something like that). Quite honestly when I hear about these “gratefulness” challenges, I always think they’re a little hokey…a little Pollyanna-ish, you know? But, maybe there’s something to it.

Perspective…Maybe a little more thankfulness…Maybe a little more focus on the presence of love and blessings and God’s kingdom even in the midst of peeling paint and worn, splintering (dare we say, “cross-shaped”) wood.

Mustard Seeds and St. Bernards

Most of you know that we have two Saint Bernards in our family – both rescued dogs.

Dinah was rescued from the pound (I know…a real, live Saint Bernard in the pound!).

We brought her home about 1 week after our first Saint Bernard (Tendai) died…after swearing that we would wait at least 6 months – okay – 3 months – okay – one month before we got another dog! It’s just that Tonka (our other living Saint Bernard) was soooo lost after the first dog died.

So, in our home are two giant throw-rugs of dogs!

I’m fairly sure we spend more money feeding the dogs than we do the kids (on the good side – and there are several good sides – at least their shedding hair…the dogs’ not the kids’…gathers in clumps so large it creates hazardous conditions around the house, which force me to vacuum on a fairly regular basis, thus maintaining my image of not being a completely worthless housekeeper!!)!

They are getting older though – for dogs so large.

Tonka – the surviving member of the original twosome, is about 8 ½ or 9 years old (we adopted him from a St. Bernard Rescue thing. His owner was being deployed overseas with the military and couldn’t take Tonka with him). He’s had an ongoing urinary tract infection (now, THAT’S an experience!!!!). Trust me, it is no small puddle that a dog that size creates when he just can’t hold it any longer…Think small to medium sized pond.

The only thing worse than bolting out of bed in the middle of the night at the sound of dog-urine hitting the thankfully hardwood floor, is the surprise of having slept through the deluge, and stepping into it as soon as you get up in the morning!

Tonka recently finished another round of antibiotics. I took him back for his follow-up urinalysis (God love the vet tech who gathered that!), only to receive a voice-mail the next day stating that there was a mix-up in the transfer of his urine sample to the lab!!!! Could I bring him back so they could get another sample (I drive a PRIUS for goodness’sake!)?

Urinalysis re-taken…Infection gone…But his kidneys are not functioning as they should be. He’s getting older…slowing down.

When we told the kids (3 ½ years ago) about the first dog’s death, Lucy literally wailed. Henry wept and walked around aimlessly.

I’m not really sure why I share this…Maybe to be reminded that everybody is dealing with something. You and me and that annoying person you work with…Some relatively small “somethings,” and some pretty big “somethings.” But all of us have something going on. And none of us knows all the stories of the hearts of those around us. And all of us are seeking some control of some aspect of our lives…and these constant pee-puddles (or whatever the equivalent is in your life) force us to realize that any control we may assume we have is really just the illusion of control. So, we need to be gentle with each other.

This upcoming Sunday’s gospel lesson includes the parable of the mustard seed…It was a nuisance plant…a weed…like kudzu, you know (the mustard plant). That it was sewn in a field is a result of its seed being so small and indiscernible mixed in among the “proper” seed. So, no one expected to see the plant growing. The Kingdom of God can be a nuisance sometimes (ala the Mustard plant/weed). Way easier to be cynical and judgmental with others – rather than being gentle and “open.”

I focus, sometimes (more often than I like to admit) only on what I expect to see…I don’t sleep well, and am exhausted…worried that a UTI-infested dog may wake up and need to be rushed outside (that’s what I expect…okay, so it may not be the beautiful field of pure crop that the scripture alludes to – but it is what I expect) and so in my frustration, I miss the grace-lessons that this very frustration offers. Maybe an analogical stretch – I’ll grant you that – but even in this frustration, I am being prepared to have patience with others who are also exhausted for whatever reason. I am being prepared to care for those who are aging and losing control of their bodies. I am being prepared to raise children who know love and inevitable loss and care and gentleness.

Mustard seeds and dog-pee…The presence of the Kingdom can be inconvenient…The lessons of grace – even when others have to help us discern those lessons – remind us that God grows in us and brings us to places of peace and compassion and love.

 

The Kingdom of God in Bojangles Coliseum

About a minute-and-a-half after the athletes started coming in, I wanted to knock Ethan out…He’s our Minister of Youth & Families.

He was standing right beside me, and his constant “whoop-whooping” poured down on me from his 6’2” height and echoed throughout the entirety of the Bojangles Coliseum.

 

A bunch of us from the church went to support Ben – St. Luke’s own  Special Olympian (check out www.especiallyben.com ).

 

Anyhow, Ethan’s excitement and enthusiasm were, quite honestly, more than a little annoying – at least at first.

I’m fairly certain that every person there could hear him…which, of course, was the point.

 

He made sure that every Special Olympian processing during the Opening Ceremony on Tuesday knew that they were supported, respected, seen, and cheered for. And before long everyone around, including me, took up his cause – whooping and whistling and shouting and waving for every single athlete (all 1,200 + of them) – like a bunch of crazy, star-struck fans just hoping that one of the athletes might look our way!

 

At one point, I realized that I was laughing out-loud at the same time that tears were rolling down my cheeks…

And I know this sounds a little “hallmark-ish,” but I was experiencing (if that’s the right word), or sitting in the middle of, or being overwhelmed by irresistible and inexplicable joy (truly, truly inexplicable – so, please forgive this feeble attempt at making it explicable)!

 

There, right before my eyes, the Kingdom of God took shape in Bojangles Coliseum.

There, the world was turned upside down.

There, the ones society calls the least and last, were now the first - the heroes and stars and champions.

And we just wanted to be part of it! The love and joy and excitement were palpable.

 

There was not the slightest hint of misplaced sympathy or condescension in the air – not one utterance of  “that poor child,” not a single insinuation of pity.

 

There was just Ethan (who recognized the Kingdom faster than I did) jumping up and down, waiving furiously, whooping until we all could not keep from joining in – celebrating the love and the joy and the inclusion of us all together in the presence of the Kingdom.

 

I Didn't Think Anyone Was Paying Attention...I Was Wrong

I didn’t think anybody was paying attention (You have to hear that with the “pitiful,” “woe is me” tone with which I felt it.).

I was wrong.

 

My secretary (okay – let’s be honest…my “brains”) is over-run with allergies, which are threatening to become bronchitis.

Her name is Sandra, and I can’t afford to be without her…So, on Monday when she started “hacking,” about 5 minutes AFTER she was supposed to go home, I hollered:

“Isn’t it time for you to get out of here…in a loving Christian way?” (I figure, if I end comments or questions with “In a loving Christian  way” then I get a “bye.” Kind of like when southern folks say “God love her,” or “Bless her heart,” as a license to make – hmm….how to say it…”pointed” comments).

She responded by saying:

“Yes it is.

By the way…Isn’t it time for you to get something to eat...in a loving Christian way?”

I just smiled and laughed.

And then I said, “Yes it is. Thank you.”

 

Most days, she is the one who keeps me sane.

She feeds me information on who is where and needs what.

She reminds me what I can and cannot do for people…helps me stay strong in my resolve to say “no” when that is the faithful thing to do, and is a constant resource to help me figure out how to make the “yesses” actually come to pass (I’ve needed her to bail me out on that, more than once).

She takes things “off my plate” when my pile is too high.

And she makes sure that I eat, as she feeds me a steady diet of love, accountability, God-talk (she is better at this than I am), grace, coffee and the occasional “something” that she just baked at home and thought we – in the office – might like.

She puts warmed up left-over-from-the-youth-group pizza in front of me and makes sure that I know when the soup is ready for the “Soup and Study” group – and tells me: “You’d better get in there and get some before it’s all gone!”…And she’s not even Lutheran!!!

 

Without meaning to (or maybe she is aware of it), she reminds me that I among the sheep that Jesus shepherds…That I need to be fed…That I am one of those he calls to who is “Weary and carrying heavy burdens” (Matthew 11.28). That I need to go and hide sometimes in a deserted place without feeling guilty or like I am not doing my job or being productive.

 

As we head toward Good Friday and the cross next week – may we ALL die to the illusion that we are any better than Jesus (who went away to pray or just be alone well over a dozen times in his ministry – and those are just the ones that are recorded!). And having died to that illusion, may we allow ourselves to sit in the silence and soak in the presence of the One who sits with us in the tomb of our “deaths.” May we allow ourselves to be fed (left-over pizza or communion bread) by those who are being Christ to us and who are paying attention, even when we feel like no one “sees” our tired-ness.

And may we all know that none of us has to accomplish everything by ourselves…

May we all know that we are loved and precious and sheep of the shepherd. And may we all be blessed with a Sandra (who is feeling much better, Thanks be to God!).

It's All About Attitude

A couple Saturdays ago, our daughter, Lucy (Lou), had her first audition for a play!

It was for the Jungalbook (the stage adaptation of Jungle Book). I wasn’t allowed into the actual audition. But, when the director came out afterward, she said, “Oh my word! She is soooo creative!”

I said, “I know, right?!”

She said, “I definitely want her in this play!”

I said (in my most nonchalant voice), “Cool.”

 

When Lou got a call-back for the part of Mowgli, she just about lost her mind!

 

And while I did do the good mother thing of helping her understand what a privilege it is just to be part of the play, regardless of what role she might get, in my mind I thought…HOLY COW my child is going to get the starring role in her very first play!!!

 

The next morning, she decided to take her “script” with her to church. “No offense, Mom – but I don’t actually pay a lot of attention in church…I can practice my lines.”

 

Cliff took her to the call-back because I had Confirmation that day.

I got the blow-by-blow when I got home.

She and a couple others read for Mowgli (in my mind – again – I thought, “Others?!?!? Why in Sweet Betty’s name should any other child read for my child’s role?!?!”).

 

The cast list was promised to be emailed by 7:00 that evening.

 

Needless to say, 7:00 came and went.

So did 8:00 (at which point, Lucy was in bed).

And 9:00.

Around 10:00 my email “ding-ed”…It was the cast list.

 

There it was right, first name on the list, written right beside the character name MOWGLI…SOME OTHER CHILD’S NAME!!!!

 

I couldn’t believe it!!!

I was heartbroken.

I kept looking down further and further on the cast list.

Surely they wouldn’t send this to me if my child didn’t make the play at all!

 

Finally under “snake,” there is her name – one of FOUR parts of the snake!

Then, there is her name again – under “vulture.”

And then a third time – under “monkey.”

 

The next morning, Lucy sat up in bed, and the first thing out of her mouth: “Mom did you get the email?”

Oh…how to break it to her?

I’d been worrying about it all night.

I took a breath.

Sat down beside her on the bed.

Pulled her up to sit on my lap.

And just came out with it: “Lucy, you are part of the snake, a vulture, and a monkey.”

Immediately, she leapt down from the bed, spun and jumped and squealed…

”NO WAY!!!! I get to do THREE costume changes!!!!”

“Let me see…let me see…let me see!

Oh Mom…Look! There’s my name! THREE TIMES!”

“And look, Faith got the part of Mowgli. I’m so happy for her. She did such a GREAT job!”

 

There are about a dozen kids in the play.

Lucy has already started designing a sock doll (her current crafting specialty) for every person in the cast – a doll that looks like whatever role they are playing.

I guess there are some kids who will get three different dolls.

 

So, please don’t throw away your old socks…Send them to us.

 

If it’s all about attitude (and I suspect it is), then I have a lot to learn from my daughter.

“If one member is honored, all rejoice together with it” (1 Cor. 12.26b).

 

Learning to Be a Patient Pastor

Whenever someone shares an observation about the struggles or whatever in their congregation, I always tend to think: “Well, maybe the people in your congregation feel that way…but not the ones in mine.”

I can be sooo obnoxious like that (My sister, Leslie, if she is reading this, has just ejected milk – or water, or whatever she is drinking – out of her nose!)!

 

This past Sunday’s gospel lesson was Matthew’s version of the Beatitudes (Matt. 5.1-12). In the sermon, I spent some time talking about blessings (shameless plug…you can always listen to the sermons at stlukeselca.org). Then I tried something I had never done – I took the time to stand in the center aisle and just kind of turn from one area to another and look at people and say “You are blessed.” I just said it over and over and over. Slowly and deliberately. I don’t know how many times – but I looked people in the eye and just said those three words. And I pretty much ended the sermon that way.

I really didn’t think all that much about it – and wouldn’t have done it, if I hadn’t read one commentator (David Lose) who said that people have no idea that they are blessed…and he “challenged” preachers to do it...to tell them. I thought: “Maybe people in your congregation don’t know they are blessed…but mine know.” Then, just to prove my point, I did it.

 

My business administrator (who is an active member of the church and was in church on Sunday) came into my office on Monday and said: “We need to change the sign out front to say: You Are Blessed.” I said, “Really, Pete?” He said, “Yes, that was great.” He started to walk out of my office, turned and said, “Thank you.”

 

There is so much I take for granted…So much I assume people already “get.”

 

I think I need to back up. Not make so many assumptions.

 

My preaching professor is constantly saying (present tense…he STILL says it when we have lunch together), “People need a clear and unapologetic proclamation of God’s love (and blessing) for them…NO MATTER WHAT!” I smile and nod and say, “I do that.” Apparently, I do not do it enough. I assume people already know those things…So, let’s move on.

But, here’s the thing…They don’t know them…Maybe you don’t, either.

So, I’m going to work harder at telling you. And you can tell me.

 

The late Henry Nouwen, in his book Letters to Marc About Jesus, says: “The most important thing you can say about God’s love is that God loves us not because of anything we’ve done to earn that love, but because God, in total freedom, has decided to love us. At first sight, this doesn’t seem to be very inspiring; but if you reflect on it more deeply this thought can affect and influence your life greatly. We’re inclined to see our whole existence in terms of quid pro quo…I think it’s this mentality that lies behind a lot of anxiety, unrest, and agitation (italics mine). It’s as though we’re forever on the go trying to prove to each other that we deserve to be loved. The doubt we harbor within us drives us on to ever-greater activity…in order to not drown in our ever-increasing lack of self-respect. The enormous propensity to seek recognition, admiration, popularity, and renown is rooted in the fear that without all this we are worthless…If we had a firm faith in God’s unconditional love for us, it would no longer be necessary to be always on the lookout for ways and means of being admired by people; and we would need, even less, to obtain from people by force what God desires to give us freely and so abundantly.”

 

On the white board in my office I have these words (I think they are from Eugene Peterson – not sure): “Be a patient pastor.”

I need to work on that, too.

 

My problem is, I see so many people working so hard to be loved…spending so much energy trying to appear cool or whatever (more adults than kids!)…and I just want to say, “Get over it!” “You are loved, already!!!” “Stop working so hard!”

I am not patient.

I see so many other things we could be spending our energy on (for example: This coming Sunday’s Old Testament reading is from Isaiah 58. Verse 9b says – my paraphrase – “Stop pointing fingers at one another, and saying mean things, so that you feel better about yourself…There are hungry people to be fed and afflicted people to be cared for!”), it is easy for me to forget, that we need to spend energy on ourselves first.

 

I guess that is what Jesus was getting at when he said, ”As the Father has loved me, so I have loved you; abide in my love” (John 15:9).

I wish “abiding” looked more productive…And I wish God worked on my timetable!

The Body of Christ in Our Basement

I don’t think we are completely crazy! But, maybe.

 

We are in the midst of a Great Experiment!

 

This Wednesday we will – for the third week – host midweek worship at our house.

 

I keep thinking that it will get “smoother,” or that we’ll get the hang of it. But, I’m beginning to think that this is just the way it is going to be...chaotic, noisy, crowded, up close.

 

We used to meet at the church, in the Fellowship Hall. It was a cavernous setting for what, in reality, is more of a small group. So, in complete selfishness, we moved to our house; where we don’t have to pack up the kids, after school and homework, and rush from home to church and back home by bedtime (if we’re all going to participate…Otherwise, Cliff and the kids stay home and don’t participate, which is no fun!).

 

Cliff makes a couple pots of soup and some grilled cheese.

We mop the floor downstairs (Okay – for purposes of full-disclosure, Cliff is the one who mops it!)…He waits to do this until Wed. afternoon because, inevitably, sometime during the week, one of our dogs has pee-ed down there…And they are Saint Bernards…The result is nothing short of a lake. And the best we can do the rest of the week, is to pile some towels on the wetness. Not particularly hospitable! So, Cliff mops while the soup cooks.

 

The first week, we met in our living room (big, cushy furniture, nice coffee table – perfect spot to set up communion). At 22 people, we were too many. And the stairs to the entry made it difficult for some folks to make it in, easily.

 

So, last week, we moved to the bottom floor (where the basement would be, if we had one)…bought some pea gravel to re-mark the walkway from the drive that enters on that level (no stairs to negotiate), and flood lights to light the way. Moved the empty bags of dog food from the patio area, so no one tripped on the way in. Scrubbed the dog drool off of the glass doors.  Got some folding chairs from the church. Set up the space heater (it can be a little cool downstairs). Moved some pillows to the fireplace hearth for more seating. Cleaned off Lucy’s craft table, so we could put some food there. And cleared off the Lego table – new communion set-up spot.

We tell folks that food will be ready at 5:45. When the first person showed up at 5:00 (while Cliff was outside blowing off the driveway and I was chiseling the drool from the door), we asked if they wouldn’t mind taking a walk around the neighborhood for a few minutes. When the second person showed up 10 minutes later, we just gave up and had them help set up.

 

This week, we’ll have to move the Lego table out of the way to create more space (which means that the communion will be set up on a TV tray…I’m sure there’s a sermon in there, somewhere).

 

In the middle of the crazy-ness last week, I just laughed out loud and said, “What a beautiful gathering of the Body we have here!”

A retired bank executive; a man who lives in a homeless shelter; another who takes the bus to get to our home; two high school students, their single mother and her father and step-mother; a woman who has been a member of the church for 70 years; a retired pastor and his wife; a young African American woman; a former Baptist (or two); a Vietnam Veteran; our kids – who make intermittent appearances throughout the evening; and about 10 others. Not a lot. And while there are a couple of “regulars” (who used to come when we met at the church) who seem to have dropped out, we have added several who never came to the church for the midweek service.

So, for this season at least (during Lent we will move back to church…after that, who knows?), it a Great and Glorious Experiment in and Experience of hospitality (and a study of worship in the early church).

 

We are looking together at  Acts 2.42: “They (those brave folks who gathered together to learn how to do this “Christian-life-in-the-world” thing) devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers.”

 

We straggle in, find a place to sit, get some soup, a sandwich, some sweet tea or water. Whoever happens to be up, gets re-fills. We talk and laugh and ask after each other’s health, and at about 6:15, Linda (who eats her soup from the piano bench) starts the music. Last week, we started with “I’ll Fly Away.” Cliff heard the music, hurried downstairs (he was upstairs in the kitchen, flipping some more grilled cheese sandwiches), grabbed his guitar, took up his position beside Ethan (who also brings his guitar to play), Linda hollers out “We’re in the key of G,” and off we go.

 

When we put the kids to bed later, they are still humming: “I’ll fly away, Oh Glory.”

 

 

Seeking Signs of Life

"What are you looking for?"

That's the question Jesus asks the two disciples who are following him (John 1.38). It is, in my opinion, one of the most provocative questions a person can ask, or be asked.

What are you looking for?

I'm not sure that any of us can answer that...not for ourselves, and certainly not for anybody else.

What are you looking for?

Love? In all the wrong places?

Answers?

Meaning? 

Significance?

Purpose?

Confidence?

Forgiveness?

For me...right now, at this moment (tomorrow, I may answer differently), I am looking for signs of life. 

I know, right? Such a little thing!

It seems like it has just been building...

It all started about 2 years ago, December 29 (my husband's birthday!) when our dog, Tendai died. We were visiting my in-laws, in Charleston, when it happened (which ended up being a great blessing, as they could keep the kids while we were at the vet's). We had to have him put to sleep. Telling the kids was so hard. Lucy wailed. Henry wept.

Before too long, not only did we have another dog, we also had the first of four new furry friends...all in the form of hamsters. We only had one at a time. That's right...if we've only had one at a time, that means that we have "gone through" three. Over the course of two years, we have managed to let three hamsters die (I prefer to say we "let them die." To say that we killed them sounds even worse!). They survived anywhere from 2 weeks to 308 days (Lucy, our daughter, has kept track). The fourth, and the one who is still living, is named "Hope," for obvious reasons. 

The summer after Tendai died, my mother was diagnosed with Stage IV adenocarcinoma. 

In the middle of cancer diagnoses and dying hamsters, one of whom we are fairly certain died as a result of a brain trauma suffered after Cliff, my husband, "flung" him off of his finger into the bottom of the cage (to be fair, the hamster had bitten Cliff), we got our son, Henry, a bearded dragon, because we were not going to have another furry friend in the house. Henry's bearded dragon is named Mr. Fluffypants! 

When we acquired Mr. Fluffypants, our friend, Beth, suggested that we try "growing" our own meal worms (bearded dragons love meal worms). One of her kids' teachers "grows" them in the classroom. How hard can it be? asked the family who has seen the demise of three hamsters (amazing that Petsmart keeps selling them to us!). We set up a terrarium, and her son's teacher supplied all we would need. Who knew we weren't supposed to feed the beetles to Mr. Fluffypants? He enjoyed them. Within two weeks, there was no sign of life in the terrarium.

Somewhere, in the middle of all of this, my mother has a scan that reveals, what the oncologist calls, an "angry tumor" on her thigh...it's causing a lot of pain. Probably some kind of sarcoma (that's not good). She is treated with radiation...miraculous results. No pain...apparently "dead" tumor.

Back to the mealworms...Since we seem to have fed the "life-source" beetles to the lizard, we put about a half-dozen "store bought" meal worms in the terrarium and didn't touch them, hoped, and prayed. 

Before too long, I could see that three of the store-bought meal worms seemed lifeless...fat...unmoving...stuck in a corner. "You have got to be kidding me! Why cant we keep anything alive?!" 

Back to my mother.

Six weeks ago, my mom had another "scan." It showed a new "growth" in her lung (the one that was - before then - tumor-free). "Are you serious?!" This among the dying mealworms!

"Let's not panic," said her oncologist, whom we adore (Kathryn Mileham). "We'll do another scan in 6 weeks...keep a close eye on it." 

I go home and look in the terrarium...I should really get those three lifeless mealworms out of the there...bad mojo, you know? But who wants to dig them out? Not me.

Mom has her "follow up" scan this past Thurs. 

The cancer seems to have "taken off." Most likely, the "angry tumor" come back to life.

She is in the hospital for two days. At the end of each, tired and weary, I go home and look at the dying mealworms. Even fatter...turning brown, at this point. Little "nubs" protruding out of their sides.

I look closer...they are "resurrecting"...they are becoming beetles...life-sources. They are brown and moving and the "nubs" are becoming legs. We will not feed them to Mr. Fluffypants. They will "birth" mealworms. 

"What are you looking for?" Jesus asks. I am looking for signs of life.

Who knew such simple things as mealworms could remind me that "life wins!"?

May your eyes be quicker to see signs of life than mine have been...And may all of us be quick to point out signs of life to our sisters and brothers who feel bombarded by death.

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