Halloween...

...is one of my current favorite holidays. This would probably shock some people. In fact, today as I taught at my Christian school, I listened to the kids as they put together clarinets and flutes and such. They always chat while they do these mundane assembly tasks. And today being today, their talk ran matter-of-factly along lines of how last year they turned off all the lights and hid from the world and played cards on this night. Others spoke of handing out tracts along with the candy, tracts that made sure everyone was aware that this was a devil's holiday. But me?

While everyone else sees witches, skulls, ghosts and ghouls on this night, I see this:

...for this holiday more than any other displays the power of divine transformation. I don't mean to sound judgmental regarding those who refuse to recognize the day. I am not their judge. Indeed, there was a brief time when I, too, only saw the evidence of the dark side on this night, the light side always being so gentle and unobtrusive, always using such a soft touch. But the evidence is everywhere for one who looks...evidence not so much that the monsters don't exist, (for that's old-school thinking some would say) but rather that even in their gruesome presence good still overlays evil, divine life conquers death even against the odds of this day.

It is seen best when a small grubby hand stretches out from some scratchy or shiny or frothy costume and touches another hand, one palsied and liver-spotted that rarely makes human contact any more, and sweetness is exchanged. It is seen best when old filmy eyes stare through the door window, and then crinkle into a smile when they lock with young bright ones shining in anticipation of a gift (rather than a terror) coming from a stranger in the dark. A rare chuckle might even resound from a dry voice box as that little figure wanders away, fumbling with something unfamiliar such as a cape or a set of wings.

Good overlays evil. Divine life conquers even on death's hallmark day, and the promised pearl is once more formed.

Then again...

...you never want to take yourself too seriously of your own accord.

So while yesterday I felt lofty, I nevertheless remember that laughing at myself is healthy. I can see me all over this cartoon. So, there. See how healthy I am? But will I ever change? Not until the grand canyon is a pile of sand. (smile)

Sharing Secrets

I always read these verses and thought they were stupid:
Deu 29:4 Yet the LORD hath not given you an heart to perceive, and eyes to see, and ears to hear, unto this day.
Mar 8:18 Having eyes, see ye not? and having ears, hear ye not? and do ye not remember?
What is there not to see? What is there not to hear? But as I've grown older, I've come to see and hear for myself, and I realize the why of these words. Indeed, many still see and hear miracles every day and misinterpret the reasons and causes of them. The reasons and causes: both so important because the miracles are for the purpose of revelation and not just relief. This is the blindness. This is the deafness.

I dreamed two nights ago of a roll-top desk that I opened...opened angrily with a bounce because I had trouble getting it to stay open. But when it locked at the top, I immediately forgot my frustration, for I was suddenly enchanted to find inside and under its lid another hidden roll-top compartment: a smaller one about the size of a breadbox. I rolled it open and found it was an all-wooden spicebox...a row of wooden spice containers with two larger bottles centered...which I figured were the salt and pepper...(so that the light and dark that my husband's been dreaming over the last few months make an appearance for me as well.) This "inner sanctum" of seasoning was so long forgotten and abandoned that it sent up clouds of dust as I rolled it open. I could take this as a sign to study ancient and forgotten things. I could trace it to these:

Ezr 3:12 But many of the priests and Levites and chief of the fathers, [who were] ancient men, that had seen the first house, when the foundation of this house was laid before their eyes, wept with a loud voice; and many shouted aloud for joy:
Pro 22:28 Remove not the ancient landmark, which thy fathers have set.
Isa 23:7 [Is] this your joyous [city], whose antiquity [is] of ancient days? her own feet shall carry her afar off to sojourn.
Jer 18:15 Because my people hath forgotten me, they have burned incense to vanity, and they have caused them to stumble in their ways [from] the ancient paths, to walk in paths, [in] a way not cast up;
And I think of my forgotten spice cabinet, the pure but lost incense, and I learn larger than I would if I were only to say, "I had an interesting dream."

I think about how I sat this morning in devotions and someone delivered to me a gift from my secret pal: two large chocolate bars. I could think, "How nice! My secret pal gave me something!" I could see my name scrawled there on the back of an attendance slip tucked under the yellow ribbon against the bars, or I could see that my name was written on a background of green--the color of love--and tied securely to the chocolate. And what of that chocolate? Two chocolate bars, not just one given into my hand. I could think of the two mysterious anointed ones who are ever standing before Your throne. I could remember the dreams You've given me about chocolate and its symbol as a reward attached to activity done in this world according to Your purposes. I could remember the article I read about the chocolate statue of Mary, Your mother, that strangely formed itself from drippings over night in a chocolate factory. I could receive that chocolate as a sacrament and a secret gift of incredible divine love. If my eyes and ears are working.


I think about how the girl who gave devotions played a song for us. She prefaced it by saying it was not her original choice, but it persisted in her mind until she decided to play it. She who felt compelled to speak on how tired we all are, and how we are told to go to You for rest. I could sit like the others and listen to the words, but I hardly need to. For these words are ones I've known for years. This is in fact my favorite hymn of all time, "Come Ye Sinners Poor and Needy." Only I know it by its old haunting melody. This modern radio version she played had a new tune completely disparate from the original. I could be disgruntled, because I love the old melody and the haunting harmonies, and I don't like change. Or I could let the wind whisper in my ear reminders of verses from far away: a new song built on the foundation of an Ancient Word. So I look, and I see:

Psa 40:3 And he hath put a new song in my mouth, [even] praise unto our God: many shall see [it], and fear, and shall trust in the LORD.
Psa 98:1 [[A Psalm.]] O sing unto the LORD a new song; for he hath done marvelous things: his right hand, and his holy arm, hath gotten him the victory.

And finally, I come full circle in thinking of Your holy arm.
And I think of the dream I had almost exactly a year ago. In it, You were somehow joined with me, and we were somehow both a previously-sliced loaf of bread and the hand holding the knife. I think how that made no sense at the time, and how I could barely put it into words. Then I realize how far I've come this year in understanding better how we are "in" each other. I see better how very deeply You can invade my being and how deep is Your desire to pull me into You. In that dream I see the cutting of the bread, and the knife as I hear Your words echoing across the aeons, "This is my body broken for you." I think of the electricity that ran up my arm when that bread was severed, jarring me enough to wake me from a dead sleep, strong enough to leave a tingle in my arm. And now? Now--as always--I can deduce one of two things:
I could say I'd simply slept on that arm too long and it was asleep so I dreamed imagery to match the physical stimulus. Or...
I could say You were sharing a secret, a covenant-cutting secret like You shared with Abraham; one that draws nearer with every dream, every scripture and every day that passes.
The choice of interpretation is ever mine. It is the greatest testament to my free will, and/or the greatest evidence with which I could be cursed.

So what of my eyes and my ears again?

Rom 11:8 (According as it is written, God hath given them the spirit of slumber, eyes that they should not see, and ears that they should not hear;) unto this day.

Ironic, that I learn so much from You in my sleep as it melds with the words You breathed through the ancients, but who are You saying is really slumbering after all?

The Image Loads!

The picture I've tried for several days to post finally appears. And it loads both here and in life. Can I share the story, my love, even though it hints at being embarrassing in the "don't let them catch you being poor" culture of our country? Sharing how "destitute" we ended up being for a couple of days, my love? But who are we to hide such a great testimony about the provision of God, our "when I am weak then I am strong" story alongside St. Paul.

My friend and I sat in my relatively empty classroom during the lunch hour on Wednesday and visited, sharing stories about how desperately we were both strapped for cash. (A few other random people were eating in there, too. And also probably strapped for cash--we all have callings rather than careers at this place, and wonderful though it is, you don't get rich being here.) I shared with her that while your first paycheck at the new job after this "gap time" was due to direct-deposit in the bank on Friday, this day was nevertheless only Wednesday and the gas gauge on my van told me I could only be certain of getting to work and back on Thursday. Friday would almost certainly be a no-go day unless I found a way to add fuel. The last four years have chipped away at all of our quickly-accessed savings, leaving me to honestly say, "If I'm going to be here Friday, it will be by an act of God."

She shook her head and dug her hand into the bag of Reese cups she was sharing with me. "Funny how sometimes He lets it get to the point where you have to say 'God, if You don't come through, it just won't happen.' "

My private thoughts on the matter took me back to the things I've blogged recently. I didn't tell her, but I told you, my love, how I'm running this experiment on using zero-tolerance for bearing false witness. In my mind, this would nix any idea of floating a check Thursday to get the gas, which would be the most obvious Plan A. How could I put my signature down that I had the money when I don't? It's a large part of my aversion to using credit for anything but a house or a car. Now I can see many folks--should they hear me run that train of thought--think me a bit too fanatic. I wonder that myself a little, but what's the point of running this experiment, this trial of a total honesty gambit at all if if I'm not really going after it as a purist?

Your response was, "I'll have to slit my wrists if I find out you ran out of gas because we don't have any money for one day and so you're standing there in the rain beside the van, stranded. Write a check. Do you hear me?" So I'm thinking Plan A has to shift to Plan B: I could borrow some money from someone, because I'm now determined not to ruin this new trend I've started with God, but then I don't want you slitting your wrists either. Borrowing has its drawbacks, too, however, as the whole issue of my spouting to anyone handy this line about how mystical and wondrous is the provision of God, well it falls flat when I follow it with, oh and by the way can I borrow a five? Just until tomorrow.

So I decided to let it ride and see what happened on Thursday. Once upon a time, I'd panic at moments like these, but my tolerance for desperate situations has grown exponentially these last few years.

Thursday morning, I walked into the office to hand in my homeroom absence list and perform other sundry antiquated tasks that the wealthier, computerized public schools no longer do and there I met my lunch friend who was doing likewise: copying her own worksheets rather than emailing a scanned image of them to the school bookstore to have them printed. As we said good morning, the secretary stopped me. "Wait a minute, I have something for you," she said, handing me an envelope. I opened the envelope to find a $20 bill in it. "It's a wishbook donation for you. One of the school mom's contributed toward your wishbook listing, and since it is Wishbook Party Day, all the families are handing in their 'gifts'." I had listed that I wanted help funding a Christmas band party, and this request must have prompted the gift. The thought occured to me, always do those extra little favors when you feel the nudge. You never know when God will make it more than just a little favor.

I looked at my friend, "Do you remember what I said at lunch yesterday?" I asked.
"This is amazing," she responded.

Now I suppose I could be a legalist and say that the money was designated for a party to be held in December, so I should have put it in the bank and not touched it until December. But I think I'll see it as that act of God that:
A) got me to school today, and
B)verified the assertion that those who seek to be pure in heart will indeed see God.

A Blessing for the Coming-One, updated

If
By Rudyard Kipling
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream -- and not make dreams your master;
If you can think -- and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools;
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings -- nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run
--Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And -- which is more -- you'll be a Man, my son!

Funny, after titling this blog, I'm coming back to it some days later as I came across this scripture that gave me chills of pertinence. I didn't realize I made a scriptural reference in the blog title:

Luke 7:19 says, "And John, (the Baptist) calling two of his disciples to him, sent them to Jesus, saying, "Are You the Coming One, or do we look for another?"

Many believe this means John lost faith in the nature of Christ, but I wonder how could this be? For even when they were both yet in the womb, John responded to the nearness of the Lord. He was wired from before birth to perceive the reality of Jesus the Nazarene.

When the pregnant Mary approached the pregnant Elizabeth, Elizabeth said, "Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb. But why is this granted to me, that the mother of my Lord should come to me? For indeed, as soon as the voice of your greeting sounded in my ears, the babe leaped in my womb for joy." (Luke 1:42-45)

So...how could the Baptist lose faith? It would make as much sense to say that one of his limbs simply fell off one day. No, I think he was asking Jesus whether Our Lord was walking the earth not only as the Suffering Servant Messiah--the one foretold by Isaiah, whose prophetic words foretold the existence of the Baptist himself--but also as another one foretold, one hidden in the quiver of God, one depicted as the arrow of Ephraim that was to be shot from the bow of Judah in that time when the enmity between Judah and Ephraim is ended...and maybe this is why Jesus Himself says in Revelation:

Rev 2:18

And unto the angel of the church in Thyatira write; These things saith the Son of God, who hath his eyes like unto a flame of fire, and his feet [are] like fine brass;...

Rev 2:26
And he that overcometh, and keepeth my works unto the end, to him will I give power over the nations:

Rev 2:27
And he shall rule them with a rod of iron; as the vessels of a potter shall they be broken to shivers: even as I received of my Father. (quote of Psalm 2:9)

Rev 2:28
And I will give him the morning star.

Is Jesus that bow of Judah? And if so, why haven't we looked for the arrow He will send forth? Why aren't we looking for one to whom He will give this power over the natioins? Why aren't we wondering who He will present with the morning star, especially considering what else He says about this star He will give:
Rev 22:16 I Jesus have sent mine angel to testify unto you these things in the churches. I am the root and the offspring of David, [and] the bright and morning star.
To me, it reads like He will give Himself to one who overcomes, who will rule the nations according to the description David saw and Jesus quoted from Psalm 2. For what does this Psalm say?

Psa 2:7
I will declare the decree: the LORD hath said unto me, Thou [art] my Son; this day have I begotten thee.

Psa 2:8
Ask of me, and I shall give [thee] the heathen [for] thine inheritance, and the uttermost parts of the earth [for] thy possession.

And Jesus Christ quotes the following part of that Psalm as what He bequeathes to that same one to whom He will give the morning star, namely Himself:

Psa 2:9
Thou shalt break them with a rod of iron; thou shalt dash them in pieces like a potter's vessel.

Psa 2:10
Be wise now therefore, O ye kings: be instructed, ye judges of the earth.

Psa 2:11
Serve the LORD with fear, and rejoice with trembling.

What are we to make of these words of His? What are we to make of His choice of prophecy to quote with regard to His passing of His mantle, in a sense? Just how much will this joint-heir status get condensed in the life of humanity? But these are things too large to spend much time thinking on, without pauses for prayer and reflection and waiting...maybe because God still keeps the fullness of it hidden, except for those faint echos across time...echos like the one you heard here, Rudyard.

Playing with God (also subtitled: Today I Was a Viking for You)

Playful interchange with God is something we forget to enjoy, I fear. Maybe we consider it disrespectful, but what better indication that you are in close relationship than to laugh with the one you love? On that last night that Jesus spent with his human companions, He said that He called them not servants but rather friends, brothers. How do you interact with a friend? It is with a friend that you play and simply enjoy "being." Now more than ever, I appreciate that side of our relationship, O God.

I think of the first time You startled me with the sense of it. I had just changed my work schedule to offer me more free time. I had been working at a church that used one morning a week as a staff meeting time. I had been required to attend these meetings until the job change. These staff meetings were held in a dark room with a big conference table, everything dark wood and dark red carpet and dark books on dark book shelves. It all reminded me of the "scary bedroom" where Jane was banished as a punishment, where she literally collapsed in terror in the book, Jane Eyre. All was perpetually dark and gloomy-looking. Similarly, our discussions around that table were frequently utilitarian and often full of discouragement. Sometimes they could be uplifting, but always they had that ho-hum element of the business of running the Church in the US of A. Good people, important discussions, but something always made me dread those meetings.

That first week after I downscaled my role at the church and no longer attended staff meeting, I spent the newly free hour picking violets out in the sun, and praying. It was one of the first times I really sensed You simply enjoying being with me. In fact, I could almost "see" You lounging there beside me, twirling a flower in Your hand as You said, "You don't know how much I prefer being taken out places like this as compared to being locked up in conference rooms all the time." I was startled. I hadn't processed this truth: with Your church serving as Your hands and feet, You essentially promised to go where Your people take You. Sadly that often means You don't get to go to our favorite places, the places we relax, have fun and simply enjoy being alive. How many of us think to take You along when we go the places we most enjoy? So ever since then, I try to remember to "include" You in more than just the catastrophic moments of my life. I figure You deserve some joy, too.

Today, we again had a playful interchange in which You startled me. Today was Day 2 of "Spirit Week" at my school. Yesterday's theme was "Black-out Day" with all-black attire being our assignment. The man giving morning devotions stood in front of this group of teachers and said, "I feel like I should give a eulogy," for the theme was so easy to implement that we all came in costume. But today's theme was "What I want to be when I grow up." Immediately, I thought Viking, and here's why. We recently had to purchase a Viking costume for our 11-year-old so that he can be Leif Ericsson on Explorer Day. We hardly have the money right now to be going into a costume shop and plopping down the $$ required for this wad of faux fur and the accompanying "leather" gauntlets, so my thought was to double the value of the purchase by wearing it myself for this "career day" at my own school. But here's the catch. I teach at a Christian school, so how do I justify coming as a Viking? For as the students rightly said, "Vikings? But they're all gone, aren't they?" This is the challenge I laid at Your feet with folded arms, raised brows and a slow nod. "You said You'd give us something to say in our hour of need, so do something with this one, God," I said.

Your immediate response to my playful challenge? "Why obviously you're using Leif Ericsson symbolically, for as a Christian you, too, seek a new world...a new heaven and new earth...that are beyond the monster-ridden seas in the place that half humanity doesn't even believe exists. But you're Lady Leif Ericsson instead of Lady Columbus because you're just not into the notoriety."

"Well-spoken," I said.

So I went as a Viking, and gave them Your rationale for the choice, which made my co-workers laugh right along with us, God. But the most fun I/we had today was obviously during the commute. Driving along, swinging my stein of coffee, while rapping with my son's Toby Mac CD and looking like a Viking, who knew this would be enough to cause the traffic to part for me like the Red Sea parted for the children of Israel. In fact, it confirms what Life...that's life not leif this time...has been teaching me lately: when for the sake of God's image you're willing to be of no repute amongst the heathen, then whole new vistas of opportunity come open before you.

I spoke the following in a chapel service.

"Paul says the angels give attention to the stories God gives His people to tell. In a sense, when God gets up before a congregation of angels, we are His sermon illustrations. Another image is that sometimes, we are the map that He, the commander in chief, spreads out on the table to use as He directs his generals (the angels) in fulfilling His strategic missions, His tactics in bringing forward the glory days. Ephesians 3:9-13 says His plan is "to make all see what is the fellowship of the mystery, which from the beginning of the ages has been hidden in God who created all things through Jesus Christ to the intent that now the manifold wisdom of God might be made known by the church to the principalities and powers in the heavenly places, according to the eternal purpose which He accomplished in Christ Jesus our Lord." Look at the prepositions again. What does that say to you? Paul speaks of this as a mystery of the church, indeed much of the church gives little attention to this honorable role they have been given: that of making the manifold wisdom of God known, and this accomplished BY the church TO the principalities in the air. You are the sermon to beings that can see you even though you don't notice them. And rarely do we know what these angels are discovering about the wisdom of God through us, but that does not change the divinely given order for it all. "



Here is an example, I think, of one of those stories; a story of things of forgotten value that are destined to be rediscovered and once again understood:

Fri Oct 20, 12:13 AM ET
PORTLAND, Ore. - A painting dropped off at Goodwill by an anonymous donor sold for $165,002 Thursday during an auction on the organization's Web site.
Bidding on the painting, a 1923 watercolor by the American impressionist Frank Weston Benson, started at $10 on Oct. 12. The bidding soared after the painting was authenticated by the owner of a Portland gallery.
The name of the winning bidder has not been revealed.
Dale Emanuel, spokeswoman for Goodwill Industries of the Columbia-Willamette, said that the nonprofit gets a lot of valuable donations, but that it's unknown whether the person who dropped off the painting knew its worth.
"We get donations that have come through the generations of a family, and as it goes from one person to the next the true value may not be understood," she said. "I've seen that many, many times."

The Open Door...

Today we woke to a bedroom that had the lazy warmth of a summer morning...which was all wrong given that it is gray and gusty autumn right now. In time, we discovered the cause for the balmy upstairs: the front door downstairs was wide open, triggering the furnace to sprint instead of stroll into its winter routine. When has this ever happened? When have we left the door wide open all night! But get this, I happened across this text while looking for something else, like finding Narnia. It is for you, my love, the discoverer and by your own admission maybe the cause of the open door:

Rev. 3: 7-12:

And to the angel of the church in Philadelphia write; These things saith he that is holy, he that is true, he that hath the key of David, he that openeth, and no man shutteth; and shutteth, and no man openeth;

Rev 3:8
I know thy works: behold, I have set before thee an open door, and no man can shut it: for thou hast a little strength, and hast kept my word, and hast not denied my name.

Rev 3:9
Behold, I will make them of the synagogue of Satan, which say they are Jews, and are not, but do lie; behold, I will make them to come and worship before thy feet, and to know that I have loved thee.

Rev 3:10
Because thou hast kept the word of my patience, I also will keep thee from the hour of temptation, which shall come upon all the world, to try them that dwell upon the earth.

Rev 3:11
Behold, I come quickly: hold that fast which thou hast, that no man take thy crown.

Rev 3:12
Him that overcometh will I make a pillar in the temple of my God, and he shall go no more out: and I will write upon him the name of my God, and the name of the city of my God, [which is] new Jerusalem, which cometh down out of heaven from my God: and [I will write upon him] my new name.

The Perfect Day...from Autumn's perspective

I see so many of you...you who spend so much psychic energy telling the world about all the beauty you see in your children.
I feel so alone sometimes...because I am different. I spend much psychic energy telling my children about the beauty I still see in the world.

So yesterday, I did not spend the afternoon leaving you, my child, alone under the care of some random video game, (although I won't brag that I've never done this.) I did not leave you in order to give myself time to spend squatting behind my back bumper to post some sticker telling the world just which honor roll touts your academic achievements. Nor did I leave you watching some TV program while I spent the afternoon on a ladder, posting the heavy plastic banner that screams your name and school and is speckled with icons of all your beneficial achievements. I was not just-another-sucker lining the pockets of a fundraiser who garnered my vanity. Rather than these tasks, I spend the day...

...taking you, my littlest one into the woods. For every season has its one day: the day that bears the motherlode of its secret reason for being. And in the autumn, that secret is hidden in the trees.

They are ladies in waiting, processing into the season's last fling, the ball to end all balls until spring comes again. So full of personality are they when they show their colors; and although some say much of their color depends on the particulars of the onset of cold and rain as these seasons make their dramatic change, still the trees tell more than just the stark history of the past few days' weather.

Take for instance the fluttering banks that are as teenagers, draped in scarlet under a spangle of gold. Waving and whispering secrets to each other. Lovely, but all so much alike.

And here are the fading debutantes in their chiffon, lemony with a hint of lime here and there...calling back to the citrus-summer of their prime, moaning as it dwindles away.

And there, don't miss that one: she is often standing alone rather than clustered with others. She is the mid-lifer, the worker, the mother. She seems bland and uneventful, until you know her closely. Draw near and you see she has discerned the balance that escapes many of her younger companions. Each leaf a different shade and brilliant, nevertheless she appears overall a soft mauve taffeta, this duchess of diversity.

Here and there stand groves that noticeably flap their leaves. These charmed trees sparkle and shine like silver-laced cherries, surrounded by equally charmed circles of bushes, these like popping raspberries, a fuchsia glow. Though small, the bushes are ever learning the etiquette of their shading, the boldness of their pure coloring. The formal garden aspect even yet visible in the wild woods as we trek through these groves.

In deep contrast are the fading wallflowers, sporting no bolder a change from summer than a shift to celery brocade, afraid to commit to an attention-getting shade even as the leaves skulk right off their branches in the wee hours of the party.

Walk deeper and see more...the matrons: tall, round, austere. At a distance domineering, but seen close they are delicate and wispy in the form of their leaves. Cloaked in deep burgundy because a lady of such age loses all her dignity if she slips much off-center from gray or black. Burgundy silk is acceptable for such a festive day as this, since deep navy isn't really a choice. That color is given to the sky to wear. But not this day. This day the skies are the jesters, the ones livening the party with their diamond-print blouses of gray-black and white cloud, trimmed with geese songs for bells on hat and boot-toe.

Finally, at the heart of the wood is the queen of the forest. She who ever waves graciously in her gleaming bronze velvet. Tap her trunk and out drips a dewy brass. Tap her trunk and out drips heavenly caramel. It is she who reminds that God said, " 'Let the land sprout with vegetation - every sort of seed-bearing fruit. These seeds will then produce the kinds of plants and trees from which they came.' And that is what happened...and God saw that it was good."
Genesis 1:11-12

The "comfort" picture will load when...

...this gets resolved. All day yesterday I felt incredibly claustrophobic. It took a good night's sleep to surface the underlying cause. So here it is. Confession is good for the soul. I have to start with that. SO here is my short-coming of note du jour and the one that makes me feel imprisoned: a spoiled serving of the commandment "Thou shalt not bear false witness." It is also missing its preferred topping: the beatitude "blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God."

A few days ago, I was lunching with a friend, and catching her up on all the ways You are providing for us during this time of instability, God. But I didn't get quite literal enough in how much credit I gave You, particularly avoiding discussing certain of the more lavish provisions You're making through the people who love us. Why the shyness to share? Maybe because at a certain point, shame makes a person's tongue thick. It's my way of associating with the North Korean philosophy: self-reliance is everything! When I realized my fudging on sharing how very lavish have been your gifts (I simply called them great bargains, sheesh!) I felt this conviction stab into my heart: you just bore false witness. Clang! The barred door closed. So, I found my friend again and this time willingly embarrassed myself all the more by admitting the whole thing. She, being a woman who understands conviction and humility, received my head-shaking clarifications with a sympathetic laugh.

It felt like going over a hurdle that caused a stumble but didn't really drop me out of this arduous life race entirely. I put it out of my mind as being behind me, until yesterday. That was when I realized that same hurdle, when planted on different terrain, had the power to send me sprawling. Some background: I teach school. I have a minimal number of sick days, of which I will need to use more than half when my youngest has surgery. Also, he currently has strep and so can not go to school. I would need to use one of the precious remaining days to stay home with him now. My husband just started a new job this week and can't absorb a sick day at his own job just yet. Finally, my eldest had a day yesterday that was basically an all-day studyhall for any seniors who didn't need to take the PSAT test.

So here was my idea: have the eldest stay home (which I guess 90% of the seniors did) and care for his sick little brother. He wouldn't really miss anything, I could work, his dad could work...perfect. The catch was that I couldn't report this to the school. School law does not permit an excused absence from this all-day studyhall for a reason like "helping the family." That one-room-schoolhouse, pioneer mentality got dropped from the acceptable truancy clause a long time ago. So what did I do? I called my eldest in as sick, saying, "He's not feeling very well," to the attendance answering service. As I hung up the phone, I thought, "Crap! I just did it again." False witness.

I suppose I "felt" it subconsciously all day, expressing itself as a sense of being crowded in so many different areas of life, and indeed many areas of life are cramped and leave no margin for error right now, but at the root of my frustration was this bearing false witness thing. The square footage of morality feels pretty skimpy when you're faced with a choice like the one in this last scenario--as compared to the first--for in the last one the choice is not between good and bad but between bad and worse. Where's the area designated for "doing the best thing in that lay-out? So what if I could point to the fact that all the other parents were doing it! (to piggyback on a famous line the kids would offer) So what if I could draw comparisons, saying that--just today--I encountered another person doing this same kind of "fudging." And what's more I encountered it in the family of God. These would be great things to throw out, with a lot of hand gestures for emphasis, while sitting on a thick leather couch in front of a placid fireplace as I drink a tall latte in the Cafe Self-Justification. I'd share all this with my designated approval-granting friend. But if this friend were really a friend, I'd get a reaction more along the lines of: wanna see God? You blogged you wanna see God. If at first you don't find a way to be pure in heart, try, try again.

Cinderella Man, Part 2

Do you remember when I blogged last winter/spring about the movie we watched? About the love of that man for his family? Today I thought of it again with good reason.

Folding load after load at the Laundromat because your home appliances are on the blink offers a person thinking time. Thinking beats listening to the Bee Gees sing "More Than A Woman" over the crackly sound system. Making small talk with the guy folding clothes next to you who says things like, "I work with a lot of people who wear high heels every day. Do you know people like that?" filled some time, but he finished the job and left.

So I thought about the people whose clothes I folded. I reflected on the things they did in these clothes. I realized how many things I've watched you do, my love, in your diligence to keep your family comfortable. I've watched you walk out the door on your way to do everything from pest control to air freshener installation to contracting lamas for fundraisers for the American Heart Association. I've watched you do everything from loading soda machines to teaching bright-eyed youngsters to swim. I've seen you play drums and basketball, doing both as a volunteer, making other people's spiritual encounters richer.

Mostly, I've seen your amazing adaptability. One day you can be walking along Times Square in a business suit, and a few weeks later you're driving a delivery truck, proving yourself remarkably adept at both. I know very few men who had that kind of resiliency and facility to slip in and out of life roles...someone like Steinbeck maybe, but then his work was all research. Yours is life. Cinderella man.

How long will I wait?

Even as I type the title, my strep-stricken 5-year-old throws his arms around my neck, wanting his turn to play at nickjr.com and asks, "How long is this going to take?" The question of the day, with the answer being that--today anyway--I didn't give up until the system gave up on me.

While this little one was inquiring about the availability of the computer, I was staring at the big exclamation point inside the gold triangle inside the circle that pops up as the graphic while one waits for a photo to download to a blog posting. Twice now, I've attempted to put a second photo with the last blog, the one that has my son and me serving as allegory for the God of all comfort bringing peace to one of His children. The second photo I long to bring to the post shows Nolan's relief, the release into the comforts of mother's love. This is the photo that wouldn't load yesterday.

So I tried again today. But no photo today either. I play with the pop-up while the green bars creep across the bottom. I change the size of the display, so that at 400% the word LOADING screams at me all alone on the screen. But then it shifts to the display that tells me "no can do" to embedding the photo. This photo that I want so much to bring into the story. This photo that seems to be the necessary counterpart to the first, the faith from one side meets its companion on the other side. But it won't load, and though I continue to knock at the door, it won't load. "Though it tarries, wait for it."

So many things, God, slowly loading. And there, when I glance quickly over my shoulder, I see, trying to upstage me is that sliver of Doubt, trying to win ground by making "life" appear to mock me, seeming to defeat me yet again today: reminding me of so many things, but in a nutshell this: even when all the green bars fill their little niche, the picture can still fail to load.

I dreamed You took us a round-about way. I dreamed that although it burdened us, it was good for others to have access to the evidence that You have been the rock of our strength; good for them to rely on the history of our walk with You as one of their resources.

How long will I wait? Until You give me something else to do.

Buying Comfort Food?

...asked the cashier at the checkout in Kroger this afternoon as she scanned my purchases. What? A cheap little one serving bag of flavored coffee and a box of frozen toffee bars are that obvious? Still I can't put all my eggs in the comfort-food basket, since I can't afford to buy a new wardrobe of plus-sized clothes to accommodate this method of countering depression.

So here's my plan, God. I need us to relive the scene playing in this picture here, with me doing Nolan's part and You doing mine. Remind me that even when I feel like my fractured roles in life (wife, mother, teacher, housekeeper, cook, laundress, well you know them all...) are in combat with each other and using faulty weapons against each other at that, for instance--the kids are sick, the dryer doesn't work and I don't have a clue what my theater class curriculum has us doing tomorrow--nevertheless, laying a guilt trip on myself isn't going to improve my circumstances, nor my mood. So kiss me on the top of the head, God, and send me on my way, relieved that You are present and reliable, because I'm sure I'll have some tops of heads to kiss myself quite soon.

Sincerely yours....Debbie

Things you won't see me writing about in this blog...

...The fact that I forgot my 12th anniversary yesterday. Yes, I know that my wife did also, and yes, I know that life is a little like trying to manufacture a battleship out of pull-tabs right now. But if you look on page one of the Husbands Handbook, there in the first paragraph, after the stuff about staying out of other...um...stables, you see the part that references, in a very biblical tone: THOU SHALL NOT FORGET YOUR ANNIVERSARY!!! (Thunderclaps...wind...huge lightning bolts...more thunder)

...My job situation. I hesitate to term it "job", because I am really looking for a career move (I sound like an ad for Ivy Tech.) Yes, I am gainfully employed...no, it is not the job I want, the one I am waiting for confirmation on. I will work at number one until I hear about number 2, which actually might happen tomorrow afternoon. Yes, that means I might have to submit a W-2 next year for an 8 hour job...sigh...

...The health of the kids. It seems like my family is appearing on "Wheel of Virusus". And doing quite well, I might add.

...Assorted pithy sayings I have heard over the few weeks since I last blogged. I need to face it...I am not pithy, nor clever, nor humorous, nor, if you have read anything I have written, exceedingly competent at grammer, syntax, spelling, or any of those other things I would have learned in school if I wasn't busy trying to figure out how to look down Mrs. Fernandez's blouse (must have been absent the day she talked about run on sentences too...)

....The new house, or at least the possibility of a new house. Whole continents tremble at the possibility of our becoming land-owners again....

But here are a few things I do feel led to blog on...

...I love my kids. I love it that when the little one comes bounding up the stairs, he will go out of his way to run over to me, give me a hug, and tell me that he loves me...multiple times. The middle one will still talk to me, and seems to value what I say...the oldest one hasn't threatened the whole "wish I lived somewhere else" line....12 years in, and I haven't done anything that has permanently scarred them yet...I'm still in the game!!!

...I love my wife. More than ever, each day. She still puts up with me, still calls me on the carpet when I need it, and I don't doubt for a minute that we can do anything we put our minds to, provided that it is in the general direction that God wants us to go as well...

...I seem to be pretty good at Fantasy Football....


........sigh...if you could only make a career out of it.

...and Past Management

Apparently, God remembered our anniversary sooner than we did, my dear. When I opened my prayer journal this morning and reflected on my communing time with God yesterday, I realized this fact.

For introduction, however, I must say that normally we do an outstanding job with commemorating that day that means so much to us: our anniversary. One year dancing to Dr. John live in concert in Chicago. Last year, trekking off to NYC. Even the year that our first-born was less than a month old, we managed to slip away for an elegant dinner while your mom babysat. But this year is not normal, so no wonder we weren't normal either.

This year, we made our first "anniversary contact" while we sat half-dozing on the couch, mindlessly watching morning TV, enjoying that it was a Saturday when we didn't have to be racing out the door with the first step out of bed. No more soccer, no marching competition today anyway. As we stared blankly at the TV, I in the back of my mind noticed that the characters were on a subway, and this led to the fateful thought progression. People on a subway. I remember the last time I was on a subway. That was in NYC. In fact, it was almost a year ago. In fact, it was exactly a year ago. Wait a minute...what is today? I looked at you. "Honey, what's the date today?" Your blank look quickly shifted to recognition. We both burst out laughing.

But, as I said at first, God was one step ahead of us, as usual. When I open my prayer journal and look back at yesterday's wee-hours-of-the-morning Bible study, I notice something I read then that makes me feel like an idiot now. Yesterday, (in that time before the dawning realization that it was a portentious day, hehe) I wondered why this "one word" stood out. Occasionally, a word or a visual will hit me though random redundancy--as I've mentioned before--the result being that I perceive it as a divinely interactive experience. One of those happened yesterday.

A specific Hebrew word came before my eyes through Bible footnotes in two different sections of my daily reading...in an epistle and in a Gospel...same word twice, which made it pop for me. In fact, in the one instance, a whole inserted article was dedicated to the word. The word is "chesed" which is translated as "loving kindness". These side notes related that it is a word used to describe a relationship bonded in love, loyalty and commitment. "Devoted friendships that last forever are based on chesed" said the article...said God to us. The word was His gift and His blessing over us. Glad I got up and read yesterday morning. Glad I wrote it down. Glad I visited it again today. Such a typical microcosm of my ways. But this one, I'd have hated to miss.

So thanks, God, for pounding the lovely little message into my brick-head.
And...happy anniversary, sweetheart.

Future Management

To you, my son, as you look to make sense of the doors that open and close in front of you.

Time management. It's been heavy on you lately, hasn't it, my son? I think of how I watched you last night on the field. You are section leader now, in a band where that means almost as much in terms of responsibility as many small town band directors experience as a career. So now you have sitting on the scales this choice. Do you go with this school group--where you have over the years grown into the position of leadership, a responsibility that is the highest you can know as a student--go with them to the competition in Atlanta? For you know, with all humility, that your being there is a make-or-break component for your section as they have learned to look to you for heart and soul and skill. Or do you look at them as a door soon to close behind you and instead choose to attend the audition slated for the same weekend, the audition that would secure you a spot in a competitive marching group that could follow your time with this group and improve your personal skills and future opportunities? In choices like these, we say so much more about ourselves than we ever realize.

Last night, I thought on these things for your sake as we went walking across the field with you for Senior night. Standing there, feeling the chill on my thighs and in my ears, squinting in the unnatural brightness of the stadium lights with the inky black of the night sky above them. Seeing all the school colors flying on scarves and ribbons and banners. These were memory-making for me. But more was the honor of meeting other parents...ones who had more time than I did for doing volunteer work with the band...and hearing these other parents say, "I just love your son." Multiple times I heard this. You have established a good reputation for yourself, a reputation of honor and integrity and reliability with even the adults; and I felt honored to be the woman crossing that track, carrying that mother-rose, as your mother. So I know you will do the right thing, and if necessary lay aside your own dreams as you continue to do the duty you have already accepted and shown the strength to shoulder well.

So if you'd like some wisdom from the one who has gone with you through all these growing-up days of your young life, I'd say this: cling tightly to the following perspective regarding the greatest honor, the greatest reward in the end, the one that will last: that highest reward will not come to you based on which group gets this one seminal weekend in your life. The reward is not in the medals or trophies or plaques. The reward is not even in the references you can put in your portfolio as you seek the favor of various colleges. These rewards are passing. They lead into the future, but will all ultimately end. All could be replaced by equally good paths into the future. There is, however, one reward-path that has no alternative route, but is often missed because to many it is an invisible road. This road is the one that leads to the lasting reward, the one that you'll find if you use this opportunity to prove yourself to actually be the man you seem to be growing to be. You prove here and now much about your future calling by the choice that you make: the choice that tips the scale in actual events, showing whether you will favor yourself or favors others above yourself.

Since I know you will make the right choice in this, however, I do not particularly pray over that choice-making moment. Here is what I pray: the proof of your heart that goes beyond the choices that you make. For it is not just in the choice you make, but in the heart the lingers after that you really prove your metal. Even insane men can do their duty in serving the needs of those around them. But few are the men who will do their duty and not count the cost as a loss, but as a privilege. May you be given such clarity of vision. This is my prayer for you, my first-born!

"Bless This House"

Grandma's needlepoint sampler comes alive on the wall of our lives.

Scott found this house on the internet as he surfed for local housing options, looking for something that stewards our money better than our current residence does. We pay a lot right now for nothing more than the suburb name on our address. Don't get me wrong, it was right for us to be here these last two years for they were a time of discovery for us both, a time when living in this town--a place originally named Bethlehem but now named Carmel--was absolutely fitting. (I was reminded of this interesting feature of our town while looking at a little bronze historic marker just today.) Both these names have profound Biblical history. And now both have profound personal history for us as well. But we sense change looming. Maybe this is the time to branch out.

This whisper, the beckoning toward change continues to lead Scott, ultimately peaking his interest in this house that had a "lease with option to buy" arrangement. One windy, rainy night we made an appointment to see it. That afternoon, before the stronger weather rolled in, we went to poke around outside the place. It has a fenced backyard with a wooden swingset and a dog house. The kids would take it based on these things alone, sight unseen inside. There in the warm afternoon sunshine, we talked to a next door neighbor, a very friendly accommodating kind of guy who paused in his lawnmowing to tell us everything from the history of the subdivision to the history of tenants of this particular house.

When we went back that night though, to talk to the owners, an extra layer of "rightness" about this place began to appear for me in concert with Scott's feeling; and it has only been getting stronger and more mysterious ever since. In my metaphoric way of seeing life, I noticed right away, as we stood in the bright kitchen chatting while the dark winds howled outside, that the wife of the owner had my God-sign embroidered on her shirt: a bright red cardinal. The couple's strange tenacity about the "warm fuzzies" they got about us and their disposition to go that extra mile to help us actually buy this house were also unusual.

A point to note is that our past experience with home ownership is bleak, enough so that we were perfectly content with not owning again for years, maybe not until the day came that we needed something in the nature of a condo in some warm-weather retirement village. In fact, before Scott was downsized from his former job, the one involving constant travel, we seriously considered adopting the lifestyle of nomads: full-time in an RV, homeschooling the kids. We hadn't seen the Robin Williams movie yet, but we were almost ready to pack up and live it. Now here we are a couple of months later finding a house that almost feels like it is falling in our laps. It still may not come to us, but things keep pointing our eyes toward it.

For instance, when we drove by it a second time as we were considering it, I noticed the wind chime hanging on the front porch because a breeze made its red cardinals dance and spin and glow in the sun. So not only these non-resident owners put cardinals before my eyes, but also the last tenants marked the house with that bird that has been the one God has used to woo me and to speak to me for years now. (See the blog last winter about this very bird and how it became "my" bird.)

Then last night I had a dream of a house. It was one of those hyper-reality dreams because while the house was normal in its shape and in its classic brick build; it was nevertheless unusual in that it was huge...the size of a sky scraper, with storey upon storey of windows climbing up it. Another distinctive feature was an equally over-sized gabled area in front of the house. I looked up that word, gable, just to make sure it was the one I wanted to use for this fixture on the house and here is what I find about the word: it is Middle English in origin, probably from Anglo-French. It is akin to an Old Irish word meaning forked stick. The etymology is interesting, also the forked stick idea. My husband is Irish. I am English. (My maiden name, Reeves, comes form the Old English term shire reeve, from which our word sheriff comes.) So the word was right, and this gabled area was huge. Its sloping triangular roof extended a good 7 storeys. In a word, the house was breathtaking, not so much because it was beautiful. It was actually rather average. It was breathtaking because it was large enough to be imposing, even as it was unimposing in design. A symbol conveying a strange blend of profound power in the confines of humble presentation.

I woke from this dream, and being on my first day of fall break, I went downstairs to get a more leisurely than usual cup of coffee. There on the kitchen table was a picture drawn by one of my children. It was a large house--three-storeys--and two-toned in color. One side was red, the other blue. The windows on each storey were alternately red and blue.

The first thing to hit me was that the actual house Scott found us (the one that seems to want us more than we want it) is blue with red shutters. The second thought was the synchronous, random redundancy of my dream with my son's picture. I sat down to do my Bible study and looked up the verse that first popped into my mind as I saw the two-toned feature of his picture layered with my dream...it is a verse about two sticks becoming one in the hand of God. Ezekiel wrote about it. For some reason, the two colors made me think about that mysterious prophetic image. Then when I talked to the boys over breakfast, I learned what tool my son, Nolan, used to create the picture: a single wooden colored pencil, one that is one color on one end and another color on the other end. What would normally be drawn with two wooden colored pencils was instead drawn with two in one. The two sticks being one from the scripture again found that center of divine redundancy. And of course, the gable meaning forked stick, or two sticks coming together to a place of joining from the language my husband's ancestors spoke, tied to the image from my dream. The red and blue of the actual house and of Nolan's drawing. All these common threads are weaving. And larger still, I call look at the fact that my husband worked a job that had him away for a little over three years, the number of days Christ walked his ministry in human body. I think how Christ himself went away "to prepare a place for us," and now my husband, as he walks this image thread given uniquely to him, sensed it was time, and indeed it was time, to come home to stay, and now a place of permanence, something we had nearly given up on as we made ready to wander life's wilderness indefinately, permanence is presenting itself to us without our putting much effort to having it. We only need to say we'll receive it.

Even riding along this morning, we saw the marquee in from of a church that read, "God will supply if you will apply." Well, we sent in the application this morning. So much of that larger reality I blogged about the other day invading the actuality of the sensory world these last few days! So much evidence that the random workings and intimate details of family and close circumstances and the vulnerability of sleep, crescendo together.

And larger than our own little story is the reason for the two sticks becoming one in that verse. It is one of several predictions that have had God's holy highlighter on them for me of late: the bringing together of divided families in the house of Israel, namely the house of Judah, which is to me Christianity, and the house of Joseph, which I think stands as a remnant of holy Judaism. Whether I read that last part right or not, we are nevertheless walking a microcosm of this prophecy of the two sticks it seems, so here is that text specifically:

Moreover, thou son of man, take thee one stick, and write upon it, For Judah, and for the children of Israel his companions: then take another stick, and write upon it, For Joseph, the stick of Ephraim, and [for] all the house of Israel his companions:
And join them one to another into one stick; and they shall become one in thine hand.
And when the children of thy people shall speak unto thee, saying, Wilt thou not shew us what thou [meanest] by these?
Say unto them, Thus saith the Lord GOD; Behold, I will take the stick of Joseph, which [is] in the hand of Ephraim, and the tribes of Israel his fellows, and will put them with him, [even] with the stick of Judah, and make them one stick, and they shall be one in mine hand.
And the sticks whereon thou writest shall be in thine hand before their eyes.
And say unto them, Thus saith the Lord GOD; Behold, I will take the children of Israel from among the heathen, whither they be gone, and will gather them on every side, and bring them into their own land:
And I will make them one nation in the land upon the mountains of Israel; and one king shall be king to them all: and they shall be no more two nations, neither shall they be divided into two kingdoms any more at all:
Neither shall they defile themselves any more with their idols, nor with their detestable things, nor with any of their transgressions: but I will save them out of all their dwelling places, wherein they have sinned, and will cleanse them: so shall they be my people, and I will be their God.
And David my servant [shall be] king over them; and they all shall have one shepherd: they shall also walk in my judgments, and observe my statutes, and do them.
And they shall dwell in the land that I have given unto Jacob my servant, wherein your fathers have dwelt; and they shall dwell therein, [even] they, and their children, and their children's children for ever: and my servant David [shall be] their prince for ever.
Moreover I will make a covenant of peace with them; it shall be an everlasting covenant with them: and I will place them, and multiply them, and will set my sanctuary in the midst of them for evermore.
My tabernacle also shall be with them: yea, I will be their God, and they shall be my people.
And the heathen shall know that I the LORD do sanctify Israel, when my sanctuary shall be in the midst of them for evermore.
Ezekiel 37:16-28

What is there to say, God, but make it so.

Evolution of Traffic, Part 3

There are three kinds of people in the world, in the doing of things
More like six in the "why" behind the "do".
Sorting them is easy, when you look at the way they use a turn signal.

First, there are those who do not use it at all.
Then there are those who use it inconsistently or at the last minute after already becoming involved in a turn.
Finally, there are those who use it well in advance, and pretty faithfully.
But in each of these still exists a vast range
in the whys of their habits.

Of the group who almost never use it, there are those who believe all the world will simply and surely figure out how to adjust around them. They give very little attention to communicating any signals for the benefit of others. Conversely, the same signal-behavior could come from someone vastly different. Say one who has not the money to replace a faulty bulb. But you can't see the difference in the activity of the bulb.

Of those who use it randomly, a momentary distraction could be the explanation, an inconsistency from his normal driving behavior. On the other hand, inconsistent usage could be a pattern of frequent indifference for the law. Obedience is seen only in the most ideal circumstances and falls by the wayside at many frivilous prompts. Again, you can't see this difference.

Finally, of those who use it religiously--and this is the group to watch most carefully--there are those who use it because they find personal power and self-worth in exercising a rigid regard for all law. They feel their control over life at its largest springs from many such small things as these. But then there are also those who use the signal religiously because they care about the stress levels of the other drivers nearby, because they do not want to throw any one else into a driving quandary; these are ones who use it out of grace. Again, you can't see the difference.

These things that you can see work outside you, and they tell you basic things about other people's behavior. It is useful to a degree. But never stop there. Because...
These things that you can't see work inside you, and they tell you a lot about yourself. These are the things that are still real even when the back bumper of your car is sitting in a scrap yard.