First and Last

I have fallen in love for the last time in my life. That’s a pretty heady statement I realize but it is true. Before I tell you about my last love, let me tell you about my first.

Oh, how handsome he was. He was tall, dark, had this mane of thick magnificent hair. He had a dazzling smile framed by a devilish mustache. And had strong hands to hold me. I ran to him every time I saw him and could not wait to fly into his lap.

There was a problem though. Our love was not meant to be. Although I was single, he was not. He was married. He had children. And then there was the age factor. Not that I cared a bit about it but I’m certain he did – he was 30ish, I was 6ish. He was my Sunday School teacher.

I still recall sitting at his feet as he sat in one of those tiny chairs and read to us. He read stories of Noah and his Ark and Jesus and the loaves and fishes. My Mother still teases me to this day when ever we run into him in town. “There’s Mr. So-and-so. You were so in love with him,” Mom will say to me as if I could ever forget.

The heart never does forget its first awakening. It’s like a flower awakening from its bulb underground on its first full day of spring. And it seems like for the rest of our lives we are constantly trying to recreate that awakening.

We pursue new people, new hobbies, new careers, new interests all in search of that elusive thing that will make our heart sing like it did that very first time we fell in love. And for a while we think we have it.

As we drive that shiny new car off the lot for the first time we are filled with excitement and pride. We wash it every week. Won’t allow eating or smoking in it. But once it gets its first ding from the clumsy driver parked next to us, the bubble is burst and we start our search anew.

I have spent my life searching for that thing, that awakening of the heart that will never leave. I have come so close and missed each time. I thought I was destined to be one of those people who would live without love. I would be content but unloved. My heart would beat but lie unawakened. I was just about to accept my fate until fate stepped in.

My Last Love is a Writer. Some call him a story-teller, some call him a song writer. I call him a poet. He has me written the most beautiful love poem you will ever read.

He wrote it to me years ago. In fact, I’ve had it in my possession since I was a little girl. I just never took the time to sit and really read it. I read it from start to finish and then even read it out loud – it’s really even more stunning that way. This is as true a love poem as anyone will ever write. And it was written directly with me - and you - in mind.

When I read my love poem, I fell head over heels passionately in love with my Love. You will too when you read it. My Last Love and my first have a couple of things in common – both are attached to others besides just me and both have children. The difference is my Last Love shares His love with all of us who are His children and His Beloved. Everyone is His Beloved. No one is left out.

Just when I thought I was alone and unlovely my Beloved sent me the Song of Solomon (aka Song of Songs). It is the most stunningly beautiful work of art of love you will ever read. My heart was awakened far beyond its wildest dreams. And the best part is I know my Beloved is with me forever. The awakening is only beginning.

My lover spoke and said to me,
"Arise, my darling,
my beautiful one, and come with me.
See! The winter is past;
the rains are over and gone.
Flowers appear on the earth;
the season of singing has come,
the cooing of doves
is heard in our land.
The fig tree forms its early fruit;
the blossoming vines spread their fragrance.
Arise, come, my darling;
my beautiful one, come with me.” Song of Solomon 2:10-13

This is just a snippet, so I hope you grab your copy of our love letter and I hope you fall head over heels too. I hope your heart awakens in ways you never knew possible. Mine continues to everyday. Our Beloved is like that.

He may not have been the first, but He sure saved the best for last.

~

Keeping Promises

A few weeks ago I was driving to a friend's birthday party. Suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, a giant rainbow appeared directly in front of me. It was huge. I could see almost the whole thing from end to end. The road I was driving on was centered right in the middle of it. If I could have I would have driven through the very heart of it.

The rainbow stayed there in the sky above me the entire time I drove. Which was unusual as rainbows in my experience appear but can fade sometimes quickly. This one stayed 15-17 minutes or longer.

And the whole time it was directly in front of me. If I turned left there it was in front of me, if I turned right there it was again.

But the most incredible thing about the rainbow was the fact that it appeared without rain. It had not rained that day. There were no rain clouds in the sky. Just the giant rainbow.

We have been promised that there will always be a rainbow after the rain as a sign of God's promise to us. (Gen. 9:13-15) But a rainbow without the rain is new for me.

I like it. It was beautiful. Clearly, it has stayed with me. I take it as symbol of God's love and continuing word that He is indeed keeping His promises to us - rain or shine.

~

Grace Really is Amazing

Grace. I really need it. God gives it to me more than I deserve it. I imagine He gives it even more than I realize too.

There is an amazing hymn about Grace. We've all heard it, sung it, hummed it. It was my grandfather John C.'s favorite hymn. He requested that it be sung at his funeral, which we did back in 1988. I still recall how beautiful the church sounded with all those broken hearts lifted up in praise at his request.

This song is on my heart today. Perhaps I'm needing an extra dose of my Lord's grace today. Maybe you are too. Here are the words to that special hymn. The words are even more amazing when read as they are when sung in praise.

Have an Amazing day.


Amazing Grace
John Newton (1725-1807)

Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,
That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost but now am found,
Was blind, but now I see.

T'was Grace that taught my heart to fear.
And Grace, my fears relieved.
How precious did that Grace appear
The hour I first believed.

Through many dangers, toils and snares
I have already come;
'Tis Grace that brought me safe thus far
and Grace will lead me home.

The Lord has promised good to me.
His word my hope secures.
He will my shield and portion be,
As long as life endures.

Yea, when this flesh and heart shall fail,
And mortal life shall cease,
I shall possess within the veil,
A life of joy and peace.

When we've been here ten thousand years
Bright shining as the sun.
We've no less days to sing God's praise
Than when we've first begun.

Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,
That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost but now am found,
Was blind, but now I see.

~

Encore: Dodge Ball

Here now is a re-post of an earlier post on one of life's favorite little games. I do hope you don't have to play today.


I hated rainy days in junior high. First off, my 8th grade class - of 14 people - was housed in a temporary building. You know, the kind that never survives a hurricane, tornado or lightening strike. There was no covered walkway from the classroom to the main building; we were always getting soaked as we puddle jumped through the parking lot to go eat, use the "facilities", etc. Secondly, the rain made it impossible to hear in that tin-can rainy death trap (on second thought maybe that should go in the plus column).

But what made rainy days the worst was the fact that P.E. was held indoors in the gym. That meant a boys and girls "co-ed" activity must be found and that meant Dodge Ball.

Let me clear this up right now - Dodge Ball is not a co-ed game. No 8th grade girl has ever thrown a red-rubber dodge-ball that an 8th grade boy could not A) dodge, or B) catch and then C) throw right back at her at the speed of light hitting her squarely about the head, chest, neck, gut, legs, arms or face.

The girls were mercifully knocked from the game early leaving the boys to duke it out for supreme being of the gym. If we were lucky the games lasted long enough that we only had to play 2 or 3 games in a given P.E. period. But with a class size of 14 the games went pretty quickly and I was exposed to sudden death and danger more times than I would have liked on any given school day.

What is it about the rubber they use in those red balls? Man, it stings when it hits you - no matter where on the body - even when covered by double-knit polyester gym clothes.

Even though I played my last real game of Dodge Ball 30 years ago, there are days when I am so sure I am still back in that gym fixed in a fierce battle of life and death.

From the moment I get up and start my day the red balls start flying:
- Bad hair day a-comin' and no amount of gels, sprays, polymers or shellacs is going to make it look presentable (whizz red ball right to the face);
- Out running errands and every crazy with a license is going where I'm going, driving slow, no signal, cutting me off, stealing my parking space (slam red ball to the chest);
- Check my mail and I get a bill I wasn't expecting - forgot about that stupid insurance co-pay (clunk red ball to the legs);
- Had an argument with a salesgirl over nothing for no other reason than I was in a bad mood (direct red ball punch to the gut);
- Checked my email and found a "Thanks but No Thanks" email response to a resume (2 red balls right to the solar plexus);
- And probably the biggest hit of the day - just needing some comfort after such a rough day/game of life I grab a bag of Oreos and a glass and (BIG WHAM red ball to the neck) no milk in the fridge.

White flag. Surrender. I give up. Dodge Ball you win.

Or perhaps not so fast...

Thing about Dodge Ball is both teams get to throw red balls and I haven't thrown mine yet. And as it turns out, I only need to throw 1. Actually, I'm not going to throw any - I'm giving it to my Teammate to throw for me. He can throw lots farther and harder than I ever could. First though, I'm going to take a Sharpie and write down on my red ball all the hits I took today before I hand it to my Teammate. Now all I have to do is let go of the red ball, let Him have full contol of it and stand safely in His shadow and watch while my Franchise Player makes the comeback of the day for the Team.

And tomorrow my Teammate and I get to start fresh - and hopefully it won't be raining.

The Original Boy Scout

I love this time of Summer. The days grow later and the shadows grow longer.

As I sit here on my patio the squirrels are busy hunting, gathering, and burying their pecans. The birds are busy gathering berries from the trees. The mud-dauber is busy building his mud hut on my ceiling fan. (And the sports page is happily full of pre-season college football again.)

The world is preparing itself for the coming fall.

This preparation is instinctual. No one has told these creatures colder days and darker nights are ahead – get ready. They have no calendar warning that there are only 29 more days until Autumn.

No, what they do they do because they know in their hearts they must be prepared for whatever lies ahead.

Boy scouts know this. In fact, they know it so well they have it ingrained as their motto “Be Prepared.” They learn everything from archaeology and archery to citizenship, climbing, emergency care to plumbing and soil and water conservation to traffic safety.

It takes a lot of dedication, sacrifice and work to learn all a boy scout needs to learn and be fully prepared. Which makes being one so great. There is a great deal of unknown out in the world but the boy scout, especially one who has earned the First Aid badge, is well able to handle what is ahead and help those in trouble.

I know a boy scout who has earned His preparedness badge. In fact, He didn’t earn it for Himself, He earned it for each and every one of us. It’s a badge we all get to wear. This boy scout, the Original Boy Scout, knows there is an uncertain future for us dead ahead but He has prepared for it. And the twist here is that He doesn’t prepare for Himself. He prepares for us.

Jesus knows exactly what lies ahead for us and He knows we don’t. He knows that it will be scary for us. So, like a proper boy scout, He calms us. He tells us not to be “troubled.” That He has gone to His Father’s house which has many rooms and has gone to “prepare a place” for us. (John 14:1-4)

I don’t know about you but I love knowing that I’m prepared – and prepared for. That when necessary I just pick up and go. My place is prepared and ready. My Father is waiting for me.

Our Original Boy Scout did all the heavy lifting of the preparing, the sacrificing, the merit badge earning. We just do the receiving, the believing, the trusting, the loving.

It really is a remarkable trade considering we do so little in the equation to get our preparedness merit badge.

Just ask the hard working squirrels, birds and mud-daubers.

~

A Community of Trees

If Barbara Walters ever interviews me I am ready for her. Bring on the questions, well, bring on the question. Specifically, the question which prompted Katharine Hepburn to respond by saying which type of tree she thought she was. Because I know the answer I'd give.

I am a Redwood.

I know what you're thinking; I must think of myself as tall, strong against the winds, sturdy and old. Actually, aside from old, none of those things come to mind when I compare myself to the Redwood. Yet, I am a Redwood.

I am also an Aspen.

Now you are probably thinking I think of myself as tall, sturdy, beautiful in fall and old. Again, aside from old none of those characteristics come to mind when I compare myself to the Aspen. Yet, I am an Aspen.

The Redwood for all its height, strength and longevity has a simple design quirk - its roots don't grow deeply enough to allow the Redwood to stand on its own. A Redwood standing alone by itself will fall down. The root system is shallow and too close to the surface. Big trouble for a tall tree.

Good news though, the roots are wide spreading and intertwine with the roots of the Redwoods around it. They grow with each other and hold on to each other. Through this mutual system of support the community of Redwoods is able to stand tall, to flourish and live for centuries and spawn new communities of Redwoods.

The Aspen too has a simple design fluke - there is no such thing as a single Aspen tree. If you see a single Aspen it is because someone has removed its brethren. Aspens grow in colonies. The entire grove/colony derives from a single seedling and spreads its roots which grow new seedlings for the other trees which you see in the grove. But the entire grove is indeed a single organism.

Aspens can live long like the Redwood. They can do this because of the community support they receive from each other in the colony. There is one such community in Utah thought to be 80,000 years old. Aspens can survive forest fires because their roots grow deep and are protected from the heat.

Yes, I am a Redwood and I am an Aspen. And so are you.

Like the trees, we all live in community. We are in community with our family, our friends, our co-workers, our neighbors, the people we routinely interact with at the coffee-shop, the cleaners, the pharmacy, the hardware store, our childrens' school, the post office.

Like the Redwood, we could not survive alone without the support, friendship, companionship, correction, joy and love being a part of community provides us.

Like the Aspen, we were not built to live alone and are indeed not a single unit.

In Genesis, God made a lot of things and after each one said "it was good." Then God made Adam and said "it is not good for man to be alone." Here Adam was in perfect Paradise, walking and talking and hanging out with his Creator everyday and God said Adam was still alone. Alone!

So, God gave Adam a little community. (We won't discuss what happened to the community next, but Eve didn't win Woman of the Year.)

First and foremost, God wants to be our priority. He created in us a God-shaped hole only He can fill. But He does not want us to be alone and created in us a human-shaped hole that only we can fill with each other. Only community can fill.

When we live in community we live tall, strong against the winds, sturdy, beautiful all year round, old lives. Indeed we live Redwood-Aspen lives.

That's a tree I bet even Katharine Hepburn would like to be.

~

Encore: "I Didn't Always Like Sushi"

In the spirit of summer re-reuns, this is a re-post of an earlier post. It's one of my first and one of my favorites. Enjoy the read, as for me, I'm heading out for some sushi.


Sushi. It used to scare me. I was scared the first time I tried it. In fact, the first time was an accident. I ordered off the wrong side of the menu. The left side was cooked fish, the right side was raw fish. But what I saw was described in such an attractive yummy way - and the name Philadelphia Roll - didn't sound off any alarm bells. But when the tray of odd looking pieces of raw salmon (I was not focusing on the cream cheese or the fact that the salmon was "smoked" at that moment) and SEAWEED wrapped around the whole thing was delivered, I felt clearly out of my comfort zone.

What was I to do? I was the only one in my group who had ordered from the "right" side of the menu. Everyone else was sitting safely with their sauteed whatever. And all eyes were on me - "what is that?" Not wanting to be a goober or worse - flake out in front of my big brother and his roommate (I was a junior in college and had gone to NYC to visit with a friend over Spring Break) I acted all casual like I ate this stuff all the time.

But here's what was really happening: my heart was racing and butterflies the size of 747s were flying crazy patterns in my stomach. I was going to have to eat this stuff! Would it be slimy? Would it be gross and fishy? Would I gag on it and spit it out? (Not cool in front of big brother). And how does one eat a "roll"? And what is Wasabi? (Figured out what that was really fast - wow). Okay, here goes . . . hey, not so bad. In fact, it was pretty good.

That first sushi experience was not bad, in fact it was fun, even invigorating. Over the years I have stepped out and tried other types of sushi rolls and nigiri - sushi on a bed of small rice. What I like most is that sushi is fun. Its a fun food. I never have a bad time when I go out for sushi. And sushi is sociable. I can go with friends or alone but I am never lonely. When I sit at a sushi bar there is always a conversation to join - whether it is with the sushi chef or the fellow diners, the experience is almost always different and enjoyable. And there are so many varieties of sushi; there is something for every palate.

I decided to try something new but was scared I would make a fool of myself in front of my friends. I didn't. To think all I would have missed out on if I didn't take what I considered to be a risk.

I know somebody who is like sushi - seems kind of scary if you don't know Him but really great fun and totally worth the risk. And who will introduce you to wonderful new flavors and varieties - of yourself. You've always known they were there but maybe just needed a Buddy at the sushi bar to help you go from the safety of a California Roll to the excitement of an Unagi-Eel Nigiri to get there.

Next time you're feeling a bit out of your comfort zone think about asking your Buddy to go with you. It just might open your world to all sorts of new taste sensations.

He does it for me. Who do you think prompted me to order the sushi in the first place?
~

Teachers and Friends

I thought you should meet some of the friends I met along the way...






























I am part of all I have met...and that includes you.

~

What I Learned on My Summer Vacation

I have been away. Sitting on a mountain; pondering the view. I have a lot to ponder and it was a beautiful view upon which to do my pondering.

What I have found is that at times when I seek answers I end up with more questions. But the new questions take me past the old questions but on to new, higher horizons.

I was very much looking forward to this summer’s trip because my trip last summer simply blew me away. I had encounters and conversations that changed me and challenged me and to which I returned in my mind and heart all year. I was hopeful this trip would be equally energizing.

But God doesn’t do things the same way twice. He may do it again, but it’s never the same. He’s a creative guy and likes to express that side of Himself to us.

Last year I got nature and lots of it, this year I got wildlife – or what I’ll call nurture. Animals and birds of all kinds were my constant companions. I could not seem to escape them. At times I felt like Cinderella or Snow White with all the forest animals following me (deer, elk, chipmunks, humming birds, finches) and chirping (humming birds, finches, hawks, blue jays, magpies) and barking (chipmunks, picas, marmots) at me.

It’s funny how I can sit by myself and find myself in the middle of a love-fest. Little creatures can teach a big creature so much. It occurred to me while sitting there that this wide expanse of earth exists solely for love and to support love. Being loved in return doesn’t seem to be on it's agenda. (Well maybe it is if that love comes in the form of sweet sugar-water or a banana chip left on a rock.)

Love. Its bigger than I give it credit for. It covers more than I let it. Its more than just romance. It’s about a Sacred Romance. And that makes all the difference. The One who invented love did not just give it to us. He gave it to all He created. He had to, He is love and that just rubs off on all He touches.

The longer I sat there all week the more I felt love coming from all I could see and hear and touch. And the more I relaxed the more I let it in. I mean really let it in to my bones. And once that kind of deep, abiding, ain’t-never-gonna-leave-no-matter-what love got in, the more I wanted to give it away.

Love doesn’t do me any good if I just absorb it like a sponge and keep it in my storehouse. It only feels like love when I give it away. It only feels like love when I pass on the gift that was given to me.

I get lost sometimes and think I can’t step out, I can’t step up; I’ll let someone else walk through that door or carry that load. But love, sacred love, is not like that. If I accept it I have to be willing to feel it, let it sink in and get all over me. And when that happens I’ve got no choice. This kind of love takes on an energy and life of its own within me. And it wants back out. And it feels awesome.

Perhaps this summer’s trip was just as energizing as last years. Who knew tiny little humming birds had such big hearts – and liked to share them?

~

Thought for the Day

Today is not a dress rehearsal;
your Audience is watching.

~