I was at work the other day and I over heard a couple of tennis players chatting. One player was clearly advanced in her ability yet she was telling the newby that she had scheduled a number of lessons with a tennis pro in Seattle. The newer player exclaimed "Really??? YOU still take lessons? I'm shocked!" The more advanced player smiled kindly and said simply "Now I know enough to know I need guidance to play my best game. After a couple of lessons, I find I am excited to play again. I'm always learning."
Wow. That spoke volumes to me. Now I'm no tennis player, but I am a student of Christ. A Jesus follower. And I have been hanging out with and around Jesus followers for a while now... I gotta tell you, it's not often I hear anyone say they need to go study with someone, to get some "guidance"" so to speak, to be "on their game". Nope. Mostly it's just folks thinking they have the "formula" or "recipe" down pat. We memorize scripture, we know our theology and our history. Not to say there haven't been times when we were vibrantly alive and involved with our faith. But for the most part the passion has settled into a comfortable routine with God. Now maybe that's because I'm a Baptist and we are kinda big on the whole "priesthood of believers" thing... but maybe we Jesus followers just get comfortable with what we (think we) know, bad habits and all. Me included.
So where would I go? Who would I want to spend time with? Well, I'm kinda a fan of "the old dead guys," so for me the first place I would go is probably Camp Bethel, toting a pile of books with writings of the Saints of old and some great music (hymns). No phone, no television, just books, music, prayer, God and me. Maybe after a week or two, I could feel that passion anew and have a centered focus renewed. Ahhh, but then, I had a client tell me about a Catholic retreat center outside Tucson that you can stay for contemplative time. The minimum stay is 30 days and you can stay up to 4 months. Now while you might think me nuts, I am strangely attracted to it. Not sure how long I could stay. I imagine, like prayer, you should probably start out small, and work you way up to longer and longer times. But I'm thinking it would probably take me a week to just clear my head and sleep. Then I might be open to what the Spirit had to say. I have visions of a time set aside like that as being pivotal.
Perhaps as Lent moves towards Good Friday, this is all a good reminder for me to plan time to "get some guidance" and refresh my soul (my "game" so to speak). Perhaps I need to make myself available for God to be at work in me. Even Michelangelo at age 87 said "I am still learning". I should be so blessed.
K
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Those pesky persistent things...
Tonight at Emmaus Mark asked us to ponder "What is wrong with our world today?"
Oh my where to begin...
Wars? Poverty? Greed? The plethora of social justice issues? Power hungry politicians that sell out their people to maintain the status quo or gain even more power or wealth? Corporations greedily enhancing their profit margins at the expense of human beings or the ecosystem ? People too afraid of law suits so they won't do "the right" thing? Parents too busy with their lives to parent? Teachers too overwhelmed by student load to effectively teach? The list can go on and on.
Now I'm no rocket scientist... but as pressing and important as any one of those issues may be, somehow, I don't think they are "what's wrong" with our world. I would submit it is as old as the garden of Eden. In my humble opinion, "what's wrong", may boil down to just a couple of pesky, persistent things...
So here we go... Feel free to disagree... I won't be offended.
First and foremost I think it's selfishness. I know for me, at the core of who I am, when I am most honest with myself, I want my own way. And that's not enough, I want you to want it too! Somehow, I don't think this makes me special or different than most folks wandering the globe today. When I look at the list above, I think pretty much the whole thing falls into this category, doesn't it? If you have doubts, browse any bookstore (Christian or secular), aisle after aisle of self help books on how to get what you want out of life. A prominent television preacher even published a best seller on how to have your "best" life. And he gives it to you in seven easy steps! (As if the life you currently have is less than "best"? Really?) So there you have it! Seven steps to have YOUR best life. Hmmm. The reality that we are so consistently drawn to information, philosophies and self help guru's (inside or outside Christendom) surely reinforces this point. We are told to "visualize our reality" and "put out in the universe" or my personal favorite, "pray for God's best blessing" on what you want, whether it be a huge new house or a new shiny new Rolls Royce.
We really aren't a selfless people are we.
But as bad as that is, I'm not sure that's the worst of it. It feels like there is a more dangerous game afloat. An increasing attitude that I would say could certainly be called a new hedonism. It is more and more culturally acceptable for us as individuals to focus on our pleasure. If someone is uncomfortable, for almost any reason, for me to be around, I don't have to. Culturally, I can effectively validate almost any type of self-absorbed, pleasure-centered behavior. After all, it's my right isn't it? ... To pursue happiness... pleasure. Self-indulged, immediate, satisfying pleasure. Isn't it? Almost daily there are glaring examples either in the news or in some online article being promoted. And Christians are right there in the thick of it. Who could expect us to be any different? We are bombarded daily with images and words supporting this new hedonism. Troubling to be sure.
Is that who we are called to be? Selfish, pleasure seeking individuals? Surely God has a better life for us than this shallow shell of one we have settled for! Surely in God's realm, "the other" matters. Surely in God's plan, sacrifice and perseverance lead to maturity. Surely I am called to live beyond this base level that any of mankind can settle for. Surely there is a place for selfless love and mercy. Surely grace redeems hearts. Surely forgiveness heals wounds.
Oh Lent. Such a time of reflection. May it lead to growth in grace and love.
K
Oh my where to begin...
Wars? Poverty? Greed? The plethora of social justice issues? Power hungry politicians that sell out their people to maintain the status quo or gain even more power or wealth? Corporations greedily enhancing their profit margins at the expense of human beings or the ecosystem ? People too afraid of law suits so they won't do "the right" thing? Parents too busy with their lives to parent? Teachers too overwhelmed by student load to effectively teach? The list can go on and on.
Now I'm no rocket scientist... but as pressing and important as any one of those issues may be, somehow, I don't think they are "what's wrong" with our world. I would submit it is as old as the garden of Eden. In my humble opinion, "what's wrong", may boil down to just a couple of pesky, persistent things...
So here we go... Feel free to disagree... I won't be offended.
First and foremost I think it's selfishness. I know for me, at the core of who I am, when I am most honest with myself, I want my own way. And that's not enough, I want you to want it too! Somehow, I don't think this makes me special or different than most folks wandering the globe today. When I look at the list above, I think pretty much the whole thing falls into this category, doesn't it? If you have doubts, browse any bookstore (Christian or secular), aisle after aisle of self help books on how to get what you want out of life. A prominent television preacher even published a best seller on how to have your "best" life. And he gives it to you in seven easy steps! (As if the life you currently have is less than "best"? Really?) So there you have it! Seven steps to have YOUR best life. Hmmm. The reality that we are so consistently drawn to information, philosophies and self help guru's (inside or outside Christendom) surely reinforces this point. We are told to "visualize our reality" and "put out in the universe" or my personal favorite, "pray for God's best blessing" on what you want, whether it be a huge new house or a new shiny new Rolls Royce.
We really aren't a selfless people are we.
But as bad as that is, I'm not sure that's the worst of it. It feels like there is a more dangerous game afloat. An increasing attitude that I would say could certainly be called a new hedonism. It is more and more culturally acceptable for us as individuals to focus on our pleasure. If someone is uncomfortable, for almost any reason, for me to be around, I don't have to. Culturally, I can effectively validate almost any type of self-absorbed, pleasure-centered behavior. After all, it's my right isn't it? ... To pursue happiness... pleasure. Self-indulged, immediate, satisfying pleasure. Isn't it? Almost daily there are glaring examples either in the news or in some online article being promoted. And Christians are right there in the thick of it. Who could expect us to be any different? We are bombarded daily with images and words supporting this new hedonism. Troubling to be sure.
Is that who we are called to be? Selfish, pleasure seeking individuals? Surely God has a better life for us than this shallow shell of one we have settled for! Surely in God's realm, "the other" matters. Surely in God's plan, sacrifice and perseverance lead to maturity. Surely I am called to live beyond this base level that any of mankind can settle for. Surely there is a place for selfless love and mercy. Surely grace redeems hearts. Surely forgiveness heals wounds.
Oh Lent. Such a time of reflection. May it lead to growth in grace and love.
K
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Lent-Colbert Style
We're big Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert fans at our house. So after a long day which including setting up for the Ash Wednesday service as well as facilitating the service, it was nice to decompress a bit by going out for a post-Ash dinner with about half a dozen of the Emmaus House community. After some good conversation and a yummy curry dish, I went home to check on the family. It had been a pretty tough day for Kathleen and she was exhausted so she ended going to bed early. I too was feeling the tiredness of the day, but I still was kind of wound-up, so I watched a little TV and watched Stewart and Colbert. I found myself drifting in and out until I heard Colbert make the following statement:
"The ash on my forehead is a Christian symbol of sacrifice, penance and mortality. It's basically the hand stamp for God's nightclub."
It made me laugh outloud. Colbert does that for me. He is so honest, and witty and insightful and irreverent and faith-full all rolled up into this on-air persona. Plus, he's just hysterical to listen to. Outside of TV land, Colbert is a man of faith, of the Catholic persuasion, who is transparent enough to make light of those who claim to follow God through Christ, and who sometimes miss the mark. His assessments of the faithful plays out in an "adventures in missing the point" (stealing the title of a Tony Campolo/Brian McClaren book) lampoon. Why can't we see our brokenness played out in our faith journey, where more often than not, we miss the point of how Jesus lived as well as what he taught?
Sacrifice...penance...mortality. That's pretty weighty stuff. Who would want to go to that kind of nightclub? Seems pretty depressing and dismal to me. I bet the only kind of music they would play is dirges. But maybe that's the point of Lent. No, not all of that murky, dark, depressing thing, I can get that anytime. Maybe Lent is more about saying that for the next 40 days I will intentionally live, examine and focus on the ways "sacrifice, penance and mortality" are being played out in my life as well as the faith communities I/we belong to.
We often forget that there are two sides to God's kingdom. One one side of the coin there is sacrifice, penance and mortality but those lead to the other side, which is freedom, forgiveness and life. Those three things, freedom, forgiveness and life is pretty good stuff. Those latter three things make me smile and laugh and make me pretty hopeful for whatever tomorrow brings me. Freedom, forgiveness and life reminds me that God's nightclub is multi-faceted with a variety of styles and rhythms that are being played out all around us.
So if you want to know what Lent is about, from this American Baptist perspective, take a clue from Stephen Colbert and focus on sacrifice, penance and mortality. If you do, you just find the other side of resurrection day: freedom, forgiveness and life! May you rock the next 40 days my friends!
-M-
"The ash on my forehead is a Christian symbol of sacrifice, penance and mortality. It's basically the hand stamp for God's nightclub."
It made me laugh outloud. Colbert does that for me. He is so honest, and witty and insightful and irreverent and faith-full all rolled up into this on-air persona. Plus, he's just hysterical to listen to. Outside of TV land, Colbert is a man of faith, of the Catholic persuasion, who is transparent enough to make light of those who claim to follow God through Christ, and who sometimes miss the mark. His assessments of the faithful plays out in an "adventures in missing the point" (stealing the title of a Tony Campolo/Brian McClaren book) lampoon. Why can't we see our brokenness played out in our faith journey, where more often than not, we miss the point of how Jesus lived as well as what he taught?
Sacrifice...penance...mortality. That's pretty weighty stuff. Who would want to go to that kind of nightclub? Seems pretty depressing and dismal to me. I bet the only kind of music they would play is dirges. But maybe that's the point of Lent. No, not all of that murky, dark, depressing thing, I can get that anytime. Maybe Lent is more about saying that for the next 40 days I will intentionally live, examine and focus on the ways "sacrifice, penance and mortality" are being played out in my life as well as the faith communities I/we belong to.
We often forget that there are two sides to God's kingdom. One one side of the coin there is sacrifice, penance and mortality but those lead to the other side, which is freedom, forgiveness and life. Those three things, freedom, forgiveness and life is pretty good stuff. Those latter three things make me smile and laugh and make me pretty hopeful for whatever tomorrow brings me. Freedom, forgiveness and life reminds me that God's nightclub is multi-faceted with a variety of styles and rhythms that are being played out all around us.
So if you want to know what Lent is about, from this American Baptist perspective, take a clue from Stephen Colbert and focus on sacrifice, penance and mortality. If you do, you just find the other side of resurrection day: freedom, forgiveness and life! May you rock the next 40 days my friends!
-M-
Monday, February 28, 2011
Feet of Jello
I'm still trying to get my feet under me. There are things I know to be true in my mind and heart and yet, I still have this churning of uneasiness as if I don't quite have my footing. It is as if at any moment, I could slide down a steep hill into a huge pool of angry water. (Picture an over sized washing machine gone mad) Sounds like a bad Alice in Wonderland adventure doesn't it?
It's not that any one particular thing is hanging around looking for ways to trip me, no this is more an irrational feeling linked to emotional, physical and spiritual exhaustion. It could almost be described as fear but is probably more accurately described as a feeling of not being enough. A feeling of not being strong enough, wise enough, spiritual enough, fit enough, organized enough... well, you get the picture.
Life, well everything really, feels risky when you feel like you are not enough. Basic, simple tasks seem daunting. I second guess most decisions, even silly ones like what product to get at the grocery store. My nerves are a bit fried and I don't laugh as easily as I did a while ago. And I snap at my family. All in all, I am, once again, a mess.
It's not a new feeling. I've been here before. The thing I notice in getting older, is knowing that this unsettling feeling won't last for ever. It too will go one day. I have weathered a storm like this before. However, for the record, let me say clearly: I didn't like it then and I don't like it now.
The good news in all of this is: I do know, absolutely that God's love and grace are with me in my churning, uneasy, mess of a self. I need not run or hide. I need not pretend to have it all together. I know that God is big enough to handle all of the mess that is me. I know it better than I know my name because I have experienced it in those earlier storms. It is times like these that I am reminded that I am loved not for what I "can do for" God (silly thought isn't it?), but I am loved because I am, and God understands me and my journey far better than I do.
St. John Chrysostom said: God is not ignorant of anything that happens in creation, and if God loves us more truly than the best human father, and if God loves us so as to number our very hairs, then we need not be afraid.... He already knows the secrets of your heart.
I believe that. I believe God is not ignorant of anything that happens. I believe God loves us better than the best human father. I believe God knows the secrets of my heart. And I believe God is at work for good. Even if it doesn't feel like it.
Okay, so my feet may indeed be jello right now, but stay tuned, God is pretty creative, no telling what's coming...
K
It's not that any one particular thing is hanging around looking for ways to trip me, no this is more an irrational feeling linked to emotional, physical and spiritual exhaustion. It could almost be described as fear but is probably more accurately described as a feeling of not being enough. A feeling of not being strong enough, wise enough, spiritual enough, fit enough, organized enough... well, you get the picture.
Life, well everything really, feels risky when you feel like you are not enough. Basic, simple tasks seem daunting. I second guess most decisions, even silly ones like what product to get at the grocery store. My nerves are a bit fried and I don't laugh as easily as I did a while ago. And I snap at my family. All in all, I am, once again, a mess.
It's not a new feeling. I've been here before. The thing I notice in getting older, is knowing that this unsettling feeling won't last for ever. It too will go one day. I have weathered a storm like this before. However, for the record, let me say clearly: I didn't like it then and I don't like it now.
The good news in all of this is: I do know, absolutely that God's love and grace are with me in my churning, uneasy, mess of a self. I need not run or hide. I need not pretend to have it all together. I know that God is big enough to handle all of the mess that is me. I know it better than I know my name because I have experienced it in those earlier storms. It is times like these that I am reminded that I am loved not for what I "can do for" God (silly thought isn't it?), but I am loved because I am, and God understands me and my journey far better than I do.
St. John Chrysostom said: God is not ignorant of anything that happens in creation, and if God loves us more truly than the best human father, and if God loves us so as to number our very hairs, then we need not be afraid.... He already knows the secrets of your heart.
I believe that. I believe God is not ignorant of anything that happens. I believe God loves us better than the best human father. I believe God knows the secrets of my heart. And I believe God is at work for good. Even if it doesn't feel like it.
Okay, so my feet may indeed be jello right now, but stay tuned, God is pretty creative, no telling what's coming...
K
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Vigil
This past weekend, Kathleen's family gathered in the small town of Payson, Arizona to stand watch as Kath's mom's battle with cancer came to a close. It was sad, it was draining, but it was also a time of laughter, the re-telling of favorite stories and just being family. God was present, which shouldn't be a surprise but it always is for some strange reason. Maybe it has more to do with my paper-thin faith, my brokenness; or maybe that's just the nature of God and God's kingdom. It's kind of like the scene from The Chronicles of Narnia, when Aslan is walking along the beach one moment and the next he's gone. Hmm?
On Sunday, as we were present with the mom-in-law, I started journaling a bit about this notion of vigil. My sister-in-law is from Mexico and is devoutly Catholic. For her, vigils have rules. There is form and structure to them. You stand vigil for so many days, you pray certain prayers, you use the rosary, you...you get the idea. For me, our vigil was what you do when words are no longer enough anymore. Maybe that's my growing up Baptist. Anyway, I was just struck by this notion of holding vigil over Kathleen's mom.
How do we do this dance with death? Its not like there's a rule book. How do we deal with the unkown? I know that for those of us who follow Jesus, we believe there is another space/place where God's presence envelops us. In that we take comfort, but it doesn't always ease the burden of saying good-bye or keeping vigil. Where does our Hope for something more than this life intertwine with our keeping watch over someone as they prepare to leave this life into something more? How? I'm not sure, other to say, imperfectly.
Closer now...breathing a little more shallow...how do you say goodbye? I start to think of my own parents; about them in this situation, of how I/we would hold vigil over them. Sad.
It's probably to soon to write this, too soon to post it, yet it's hard to do anything else but to think about it; our keeping vigil over Donna. It's hard not to think of her, to miss her, to love her, to want a different outcome than what we got. It's hard cause I see the pain in my wife's face, in her voice, in the voices and faces of her brothers, of my children...of Ev and his life without her after all these years with her...
Dying is hard work...vigils are hard... may we all be surprised by the Hope
-M-
On Sunday, as we were present with the mom-in-law, I started journaling a bit about this notion of vigil. My sister-in-law is from Mexico and is devoutly Catholic. For her, vigils have rules. There is form and structure to them. You stand vigil for so many days, you pray certain prayers, you use the rosary, you...you get the idea. For me, our vigil was what you do when words are no longer enough anymore. Maybe that's my growing up Baptist. Anyway, I was just struck by this notion of holding vigil over Kathleen's mom.
How do we do this dance with death? Its not like there's a rule book. How do we deal with the unkown? I know that for those of us who follow Jesus, we believe there is another space/place where God's presence envelops us. In that we take comfort, but it doesn't always ease the burden of saying good-bye or keeping vigil. Where does our Hope for something more than this life intertwine with our keeping watch over someone as they prepare to leave this life into something more? How? I'm not sure, other to say, imperfectly.
Closer now...breathing a little more shallow...how do you say goodbye? I start to think of my own parents; about them in this situation, of how I/we would hold vigil over them. Sad.
It's probably to soon to write this, too soon to post it, yet it's hard to do anything else but to think about it; our keeping vigil over Donna. It's hard not to think of her, to miss her, to love her, to want a different outcome than what we got. It's hard cause I see the pain in my wife's face, in her voice, in the voices and faces of her brothers, of my children...of Ev and his life without her after all these years with her...
Dying is hard work...vigils are hard... may we all be surprised by the Hope
-M-
Monday, February 21, 2011
A Paradox of Love and Faith
It's been a week and a day since my mom died. A tough week and a day. My thoughts ramble. Concentration is difficult. My eyes leak at the most inopportune times. But today, as I was writing letters to my aunts and uncles remembering my Mom with them, a thought came to the forefront;
"It is clear that a piece of our hearts is forever gone. We will always miss her laugh, her smile and the way she raised that one eyebrow when she meant business. Even so, I am certain, with every fiber of my being, that we will always carry her in our heart... and so she shall never be far from us."
Quite the paradox isn't it.
Forever gone, but forever here. Hmmm.
Grief is a strange thing, we miss and deeply grieve not seeing their smiles and hearing their laugh. Rightly so. In my mother's situation she had lived a very fulfilling life. She loved deeply and was deeply loved. She was surrounded by those who love her when she quite literally went to sleep here and woke up in heaven. All in all, as things could go, it was very peaceful and quiet. And the truth is, had she lived another 30 years, we her family, would have wanted more time still. It would never have been enough. Our grief was, and still is, intense, but there is much to be celebrated in a life well lived and well loved.
My faith tells me that she is not gone (as in vaporized), she is not alone, nor floating in some vast abyss. My faith tells me she is experiencing the fullness of God's love and tender care. She is with the loved ones she missed and cried for. She is experiencing God as we were intended to. Maybe the streets are gold there, (sure, why not) but they have never been the carrot dangling in front of me to entice me to "be good". If that works for you then great, but for me heaven is all about the people and the love. The feeling of being totally understood and accepted.
*Sigh* Who wouldn't want that?
So I will miss her terribly, and my eyes will leak at crazy times, and yes she is gone, but no not really.
K
"It is clear that a piece of our hearts is forever gone. We will always miss her laugh, her smile and the way she raised that one eyebrow when she meant business. Even so, I am certain, with every fiber of my being, that we will always carry her in our heart... and so she shall never be far from us."
Quite the paradox isn't it.
Forever gone, but forever here. Hmmm.
Grief is a strange thing, we miss and deeply grieve not seeing their smiles and hearing their laugh. Rightly so. In my mother's situation she had lived a very fulfilling life. She loved deeply and was deeply loved. She was surrounded by those who love her when she quite literally went to sleep here and woke up in heaven. All in all, as things could go, it was very peaceful and quiet. And the truth is, had she lived another 30 years, we her family, would have wanted more time still. It would never have been enough. Our grief was, and still is, intense, but there is much to be celebrated in a life well lived and well loved.
My faith tells me that she is not gone (as in vaporized), she is not alone, nor floating in some vast abyss. My faith tells me she is experiencing the fullness of God's love and tender care. She is with the loved ones she missed and cried for. She is experiencing God as we were intended to. Maybe the streets are gold there, (sure, why not) but they have never been the carrot dangling in front of me to entice me to "be good". If that works for you then great, but for me heaven is all about the people and the love. The feeling of being totally understood and accepted.
*Sigh* Who wouldn't want that?
So I will miss her terribly, and my eyes will leak at crazy times, and yes she is gone, but no not really.
K
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
My Heart's Picture
I hold in my heart a picture that developed over the last weekend. I shall try, though my words may be inadequate, to describe the vision I hold in my heart;
Our scene opens on a dense, thick wooded hillside mixed with Ponderosa Pines, Cottonwoods and Quaking Aspen trees. Thick Oak shrubs color the forest floor. A deep fog has settled in and rests heavy over the woods. Into this, a beautiful, fair skinned, red-haired, beauty of a woman winds her way down a thin trail through the thick woods. She is leaving behind misty figures waving goodbye, but she can still hear their soft voices, warm with love. As she emerges from the woods the warm sun catches her hair and it shimmers like dark polished copper. She steps onto the meadow and is immediately overwhelmed with the vast magnitude and beauty of what she sees: a field bursting with spring flowers, rimmed by towering snow capped mountains. The colors have never been more beautiful and the sounds of the forest are as clear as a church bell on a quiet Sunday morning. She can hear the sound of a creek gurgling close by, not too loud, as the water churns and flows over the rocks. It's the kind of creek she remembers from her youth, and her heart and mind are suddenly filled with warm memories of playing at Workman Creek with her brothers and sisters. The air is crisp and clean; just a whisper of a breeze. Taking a deep breath, it feels as though she has never really taken a breath before, certainly nothing like this one! The scene is captivating, her senses alive. It's as if every flower, every bird, breeze and rustle of grass were created just for her.
Off to her right Roy, a fine, handsome, strapping young man, has two horses saddled and ready for a morning ride. He smiles and winks at her. "Hi Grandma. Thought you might want to ride Beau today. I've got he and Harvey all ready... and you know that #7 has to tag along!" He offers to help her mount but she raises her eyebrow and gives him "that look". Nope. No help needed thank you very much! The smell of the leather reminds her of Grumpa cleaning the saddles and as she mounts the saddle creaks sharp and clear. They ride, they talk of love and of people oh so dear to both of them. Hours pass. They ride on and that silly 'ol burro, (#7) just plods along behind them. They laugh and joke, they smile and remember. It's getting close to noon now so Roy takes her along the creek, to the swimming hole, so the horses can drink. A rustle in the Oak brush catches their attention and low and behold, a pack of dogs emerge! Pal, Herman, Tuffy, Ranger, Shep, and even that mangy 'ol dog Blue have found them. The dogs jump and yap as she dismounts, then cover her with kisses. Warm puppy breath greets her. Her soul is warm, her heart is satisfied.
"Come on Grandma. We've got to get 'er done here. The pups will be along, don't you worry now" he says with a smile. Back into the meadow, along a mountain lake, over a rise and they see it. Why it's a party! No, it's a picnic. Well, who on earth sets up a picnic here? Her Mom and Dad, her brother, her Grandpa Blakely, her aunts and uncles. It's amazing! Everyone is here! They eat, they laugh, they relax in the warm afternoon sun. It's not too hot. Just enough to warm your bones and not so much as to make you sweat. Hmmmm. Just right. The day has been perfect. As sunset approaches her Mom takes her by the hand and they climb a ridge. It is the perfect Arizona sunset. Colors only God could paint. No one speaks. No one wants to interrupt the sacred beauty of the moment.
A flash. A glow. A feeling of perfect love surrounds her. She knows the fullness of God's presence has come. Her soul is warm, it is as if she is being enveloped in a gigantic hug. "Well done, good and faithful one. Welcome! Here there is only perfect love and joy. Come on, let us show you around. I think you're going to like it here." God winks and smiles.
This is how I picture my Mom's graduation to glory this past Sunday night. I kinda think God's okay with my creative license....
K
Our scene opens on a dense, thick wooded hillside mixed with Ponderosa Pines, Cottonwoods and Quaking Aspen trees. Thick Oak shrubs color the forest floor. A deep fog has settled in and rests heavy over the woods. Into this, a beautiful, fair skinned, red-haired, beauty of a woman winds her way down a thin trail through the thick woods. She is leaving behind misty figures waving goodbye, but she can still hear their soft voices, warm with love. As she emerges from the woods the warm sun catches her hair and it shimmers like dark polished copper. She steps onto the meadow and is immediately overwhelmed with the vast magnitude and beauty of what she sees: a field bursting with spring flowers, rimmed by towering snow capped mountains. The colors have never been more beautiful and the sounds of the forest are as clear as a church bell on a quiet Sunday morning. She can hear the sound of a creek gurgling close by, not too loud, as the water churns and flows over the rocks. It's the kind of creek she remembers from her youth, and her heart and mind are suddenly filled with warm memories of playing at Workman Creek with her brothers and sisters. The air is crisp and clean; just a whisper of a breeze. Taking a deep breath, it feels as though she has never really taken a breath before, certainly nothing like this one! The scene is captivating, her senses alive. It's as if every flower, every bird, breeze and rustle of grass were created just for her.
Off to her right Roy, a fine, handsome, strapping young man, has two horses saddled and ready for a morning ride. He smiles and winks at her. "Hi Grandma. Thought you might want to ride Beau today. I've got he and Harvey all ready... and you know that #7 has to tag along!" He offers to help her mount but she raises her eyebrow and gives him "that look". Nope. No help needed thank you very much! The smell of the leather reminds her of Grumpa cleaning the saddles and as she mounts the saddle creaks sharp and clear. They ride, they talk of love and of people oh so dear to both of them. Hours pass. They ride on and that silly 'ol burro, (#7) just plods along behind them. They laugh and joke, they smile and remember. It's getting close to noon now so Roy takes her along the creek, to the swimming hole, so the horses can drink. A rustle in the Oak brush catches their attention and low and behold, a pack of dogs emerge! Pal, Herman, Tuffy, Ranger, Shep, and even that mangy 'ol dog Blue have found them. The dogs jump and yap as she dismounts, then cover her with kisses. Warm puppy breath greets her. Her soul is warm, her heart is satisfied.
"Come on Grandma. We've got to get 'er done here. The pups will be along, don't you worry now" he says with a smile. Back into the meadow, along a mountain lake, over a rise and they see it. Why it's a party! No, it's a picnic. Well, who on earth sets up a picnic here? Her Mom and Dad, her brother, her Grandpa Blakely, her aunts and uncles. It's amazing! Everyone is here! They eat, they laugh, they relax in the warm afternoon sun. It's not too hot. Just enough to warm your bones and not so much as to make you sweat. Hmmmm. Just right. The day has been perfect. As sunset approaches her Mom takes her by the hand and they climb a ridge. It is the perfect Arizona sunset. Colors only God could paint. No one speaks. No one wants to interrupt the sacred beauty of the moment.
A flash. A glow. A feeling of perfect love surrounds her. She knows the fullness of God's presence has come. Her soul is warm, it is as if she is being enveloped in a gigantic hug. "Well done, good and faithful one. Welcome! Here there is only perfect love and joy. Come on, let us show you around. I think you're going to like it here." God winks and smiles.
This is how I picture my Mom's graduation to glory this past Sunday night. I kinda think God's okay with my creative license....
K
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