The truth is, I don’t really know what was going on. I witnessed a small drama and, as we are all inclined to do, I overlaid it with my own narrative, which may or may not have been accurate.
Here are the facts, no interpretation or assumptions. Just what I saw. You can decide what you think was going on: Continue reading The Tiny Pink Suitcase I Can’t Put Down
Miss Ruby – as my grandmother was known to her friends- was a hardworking, dignified Southern lady. Her husband (my grandfather) died tragically when their children were very young. She raised my Dad and my aunt as a single parent, working two jobs, opening her home to boarders, and selling cakes and pies she baked from scratch.
She had a lot of wisdom and wow, was she resourceful! But I can’t imagine she had the luxury of choosing the ideal timetable for any of the major decisions she had to make. She couldn’t take extra days or weeks to consider her options; she had bills to pay, repairs to make, kids to clothe and feed. I expect she was in survival mode much of the time. Continue reading A Question My Grandmother Probably Didn’t Ask
I came across a Gaelic prayer this week that began: “As the hand is made for holding and the eye for seeing, you have fashioned me for joy.” Have you ever considered that? That you are “fashioned for joy”? Is it really possible God intentionally designed and crafted us for joy?
Sometimes it sure doesn’t seem like it.
If the prayer were true, joy would be as foundational to our daily experience as our hand holding a morning cup of coffee or our eyes seeing the hour on the clock. Joy would be natural … and obvious … and so automatic as to barely require thought.
And yet.
There are people in my life – not just acquaintances but friends – who are battling fear-inducing, seemingly insurmountable challenges: treatment for a life threatening disease, a child’s mental illness spiraling out of control, deep betrayal, job loss, marital breakdown, incarceration. These dear people are experiencing life’s lowest blows and I wonder, how are they to find or exude this joy for which they were created? Continue reading Are You Fashioned for Joy?
It was Friday the 13th and even with all the lights out, the night sky glowed brightly. The moon – tinged a slight pink – had silently crept above the horizon. Its scattered light through the atmosphere at such a low angle made it look gigantic… and caused me to gasp. It was so astonishing, my first inclination was to call someone – anyone – on the phone and say, “Quick, look out the window! You have to see the moon!”
~~~
Three of my friends became grandparents this month – two for the first time, one for the second. With each birth, our social media network caught fire almost immediately with the good news of healthy babies and happy new parents. And the pictures – lovely, poignant images of precious new lives and smiling, exhausted young mothers – made me tear up every time. Within the circle of friends and families, the news went “viral” and we were all charmed.
~~~
My sister and brother-in-law went whale-watching in the Pacific Northwest this week. To their delight, two magnificent orcas breached right next to their boat and then swam under the bow and out the other side. A fellow tourist caught it all on her smartphone and air-dropped it to my brother-in-law, who emailed it to me that night. It was – in a word – spectacular. In the background of the short video, I could hear the people chattering excitedly and squealing with joy. How could they not?
~~~
In every scenario above (and others that may have come to your mind as you were reading this), the joy and excitement of something unusual, miraculous, or simply stunning prompted a desire: I have to share this. Continue reading The common thread of a strawberry moon, good news, and playful orcas
The sheep is just doing what sheep do. It’s probably picking its way along an uneven path, following the ewe ahead of it, and somehow misses its footing on the side of a hillock. It could be injured from the fall or maybe caught in brambles at the bottom, but regardless, now it is alone and vulnerable. Time is of the essence.
When the shepherd realizes one of his flock is missing, he has to act quickly; he has a very narrow window of opportunity. He knows the other sheep will instinctively huddle together as a group and be safe, at least temporarily, so he hurries off to find the lost animal before it is picked off by a predator.
This is the part I love about the Biblical account in Luke’s gospel:
When the shepherd spots the missing sheep, Continue reading What’s Missing in the Parable of the Lost Sheep
For much of my Christian life, I believed I needed to “pray the answers”. My prayers, I thought, should include suggestions for God, ways He could answer my requests. I’d begin with, “If it could be your will, God, would you please ___________,” and then I’d fill in the blank with ideas for how God might respond.
I don’t think I fell into that pattern because I really thought God needed my input; I think it was a way of giving myself a kind of metric so I could know my prayers had been answered.
If things resolved the way I had prayed they would, then God had met my expectations and I was assured once more that yes, God answers prayer.
Some things were pretty clear as to what the ideal outcome would be: Continue reading A Gift Within A Gift
Do you know how much energy I expend trying to figure out why some people do and act the way they do? How hard I try to figure out the best way to relate to certain individuals so they either respond in the way I think is appropriate… or at least don’t insult me?
With some, I struggle just to figure out how I can get them to flat leave me alone.
I’m guessing you spend a fair amount of energy, too, trying to balance your interactions with other people, determining how best to communicate, convince . . . or simply not end up in conflict with them. Continue reading A solid strategy … not a bad word
For 24 years, I’ve lived about a 7-iron shot from the local high school. (If I were a decent golfer, it might be a chip shot, but hey.) I hear the marching band practicing all summer; in the fall, I hear the announcer on the PA calling the football games. I watch the before and after-school traffic jams throughout the winter. Soon I feel a bittersweet pang as I hear names being read off in that same stadium during graduation.
I love high school kids, always have. There’s something so endearing and vulnerable about them, even when they’re posturing and trying to be cool. They’re all insecure, some just hide it better than others. I get that.
When I first moved here, I would get irritated when kids threw trash from their cars as they sped past my house; now, I’m alarmed to see them texting as they go by, still speeding (some things don’t change). And sadly, there’s a whole bullying drama unfolding in my neighborhood lately that has a dark edge to it. That makes me angry…and sad. Continue reading How the high school track team reminds me of God’s faithfulness
(“What Changes When You Hope in a Sure Thing” originally appeared as a guest post on http://ryanhuguley.com.)
If you’re not a college basketball fan, “March Madness” may have seemed straight up nuts to you. And you know what? Maybe it was. I’ll admit I was one of those crazy fans hoping against hope that my team would win the tournament. It didn’t turn out that way, but it was fun to follow the games and root for my alma mater.
But let’s be honest: my “hope” was little more than a kind of wishful thinking. I had absolutely no control over the outcome, no matter how much I wanted to see my team prevail. I could hope for it all day long but that had no impact on how things ended up.
Basketball is one thing, but many of us approach life that way. Continue reading What Changes When You Hope in a Sure Thing
This past week I was looking for something in a closet and came across a box of old handwritten letters. They were still in their original envelopes, held together with rotted rubber bands. I pulled them out and the next thing I knew, I had lost an entire afternoon.
What a kick to read stories from my then-25 year old sister gushing about the new job she had come to love. To revisit my mother’s fretting over her upcoming nursing board exams and hear again, at the end of every letter, how much she loved me. Priceless.
There was my Dad, telling about a fire in the building next door to the church, so hot it melted the plastic curtains in one of the Sunday School rooms and Continue reading A Costly Lesson About Closed Doors
Follow
