So I'm on a mid-week run at work and I see this little vignette played out. Big sister and little brother are riding their bikes down the sidewalk across the street from me. Their mother is walking and she is maybe a block and a half behind the kids. The brother and sister get to an intersection. There is no stop sign or anything, just a residential area where a side street feeds into a slightly more busy street.
Anyway, the sister dutifully stops to look both ways but little brother just keeps going. His sister is yelling for him to STOP! To no avail. At last he stops his over sized bike (he's about 7 and his bike is too big) right in the middle of the street. His sister is so angry....the kind of anger that rises from what had just moments ago been fear. She's lecturing him, looking back and calling for her mom who is outside the range of help or even hearing. And the boy, he pleads his innocence and blames it all on his brakes. Yep, he uses the ol' brake defense in hopes of shutting down the rain of words that is pounding down upon him.
Of course, all of this happens in about 10 or 15 seconds. I find myself chuckling. There was no imminent danger but sis was correct on the principle level. Brother needs to be looking both ways lest he find his young little life prematurely snuffed out. The thing I found humorous was the passion the boy displayed in making his case that his brakes absolutely had failed him and that it was not his fault. Although I hope it's not the case, this little guy may have just utilized what will ultimately be a lifetime habit of placing himself in the role of victim...just an innocent victim.
My mind wandered off into a flurry of judgemental remembrances for all the people I have observed over my life who never seem to be responsible for anything that comes their way. Somehow, their brakes have failed every time, the dog has eaten the homework yet again, "the man" has taken it to them and even the devil made me do it.
Entire groups of people and organizations do this too. We didn't hit our bottom line because of the economic downturn, our projections are off because of an unavoidable change in an unexpected area. In this election year, we see entire political parties blame the other party for every social ill that has occurred over the last 4 years. I know, I know. There is often plenty of truth to what is cited as the cause for each failing observed.
It's just that I find myself hungering to hear more instances of accepting full responsibility for whatever the outcome. Like I saw when watching the Olympics when a favored athlete or team was defeated and lost the gold medal in an upset. How satisfying to hear an athlete say, "He/she just had a better race", "I made some mistakes and paid the price".
OK, so now I have run a couple of blocks further past the brother and sister incident and have mused about all this lack of accepting accountability that I seem to see as running rampant through life. At this point Jesus joins me on the run...(He does that a lot by the way, I rarely ever really run alone). I hear "So what about you?" And I proceed to find myself busted yet again. Get this, I like to fashion myself as a pretty "the-buck-stops-hear" kind of guy. And yet this tsk-tsking party I was having in my head, this judgement of all the irresponsibility I see swimming around me had somehow served to hoist me up on the bench of the supreme court where I was rendering my verdict on all of the less forthright "out there".
Ladies and gentlemen, I do take full responsibility for being a virtual judging machine. I too have a full measure of the inheritance of Adam and Eve's rebellion and I gorge myself on the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil on a daily basis. Despite my well-intentioned plans to stay on a strict diet of "collapsing all judgment", I find myself breaking my fast with painful regularity. Truth be known, it tires me out. I guess too much trying and not enough being.
The Kingdom I have been delivered into and that I have been called to help advance is not about judgment of others. It's about acceptance, thinking the best of others and putting their interests first. It's an impossible way of life that can only be accomplished by surrendering my rights and depending on the Author of life to empower my living and to give me the capacity to live beyond my own character's abilities. Just wanted to say that I get that and I take full responsibility for each of my actions. Jesus, forgive me for my selfish, self-righteous judgments of others. Have your way in me. I do want to be about your business....you are the hero of this story and I belong to you.
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Sunday, July 6, 2008
Nothing really...just a quick note.
So a month has gone by...strange how your own blog can feel like having a job. or a loved one, something you are responsible to care for and feed. More than once, I have gone to bed and one of those fleeting thoughts that close out the day would be, "man I haven't blogged in weeks" and I would feel the guilt that comes with abandonment. Oh for cryin'- out- loud, is this not the pathetic hallmark of a striving male adult who means well and works diligently to keep all the balls in the air and fights continually to keep things from flying apart.
So I sit here in my cool basement office, put together by my loving wife as a gift to me, (actually one of the best gifts I ever received, the gift of personal space) and write mainly to break the absence from blogdom. In the past I would be driven to blog by thoughts that seemed to cry out for articulation, to be birthed in the hopes that once they were expressed they would become clearer and of more value in my sojourn. Not this time. This is just bloggin' for bloggin'-sake, something to break the slump of expression and re-ignite my quest for transparent authenticity.
So life's circumstances just kind of go on, regardless of your readiness level...Sandi's parent are both home now. For the moment, things are relatively stable and our involvement, though significant, is not at the fever pitch it had been. My Mom is dealing with shingles in the left eye and scalp region. At 91, a son can't help but wince at the odd combination of basic health and independence overlayed by a frail vulnerableness that reduces her ability to roll with life's punches. Caring for surviving parents can turn out to be a big deal when you get to the stage of life I am waking to each morning.
Couple these responsibilities with the weekly efforts to make a living at a 100% commission job and the enemy has plenty of handles and fodder to constantly offer me a background filled with worrisome noise and lies. My intentionality to be fostering a closer walk with God, to practice the presence of Christ, requires a near constant effort to shut down the senses of dread, angst and anxiety that stands at my door and knocks. You see, there are 2 standing at that door knocking and which I let in, which I believe to be true. determines the trajectory of the day.
Summer is so many peoples favorite season. It's not mine...too hot, to much burning sun trying to suck the moisture out of every living thing, especially our lawn. Trying to keep the grass green is a foolish hobby, I admit it. But I have fallen prey to trying to outwit nature's attempt to torch the front bank that sits at 45 degrees to the sun all day being tortured by the relentless rays. I read somewhere that our modern day sod really hearkens from very wet parts of the world. They require amazing amounts of water to stay green and for an old hose dragger like me, my efforts seem pathetic and worthy only of my embarrassment.
The talk of recession, the rising costs of everything, the lack of any visible relief on the horizon, these mark the news as reporters trip over themselves to tell us how bad it's getting and that we ain't seen nothin' yet. Taking a fast from the news is one idea for a cheap sort of vacation. Let them yammer on without me listening on or reading. Yet, the dismal financial outlook is also kind of a social leveler and acts to bring us together and give us all (well not the folks that live in North Oaks!) more of life in common. Instead of just some people feeling the pinch, it becomes a much more universally-felt experience and brings us together....sort of. The one redeeming feature to me is how it causes more people to be more deliberate about life, it slows down the consumption fever that is so easy to catch. When people start switching from Target to Walmart, from Outback to McDonalds, who's not to argue that things indeed seem to be winding down and the end feels like it's rushing toward us like a run-away train.
And so I spend my days with the pursuit of intimacy in walking through all of this with God, to loving my wife well, to chasing a living by matching qualified candidates with medical sales opportunities, by concentrating on keeping all the family plates spinning on each of their wobbling sticks and by nipping away at summer projects that feed my sense of simple accomplishment. An ordinary man going through an unspectacular life hoping not to miss the main priorities and hoping not to come out the other side having spent too much energy on mere survival and not enough on abandoned living. Attempting not to negatively effect those closest to me with my disciplined approach to "gettin' er' done!". To take time to see others, to slow my fevered pace to check things off the To Do list enough to be available, to be present in the now, to live in the moment. To quell my pull toward cynicism and to actually live (not just talk) in accordance with the truth I profess. Certainly not newsworthy stuff but it's all I've got for now and it does at least serve to break my 4-week bloggin' slump.
Time to get the birds some more food..... They neither sow nor reap yet......
So I sit here in my cool basement office, put together by my loving wife as a gift to me, (actually one of the best gifts I ever received, the gift of personal space) and write mainly to break the absence from blogdom. In the past I would be driven to blog by thoughts that seemed to cry out for articulation, to be birthed in the hopes that once they were expressed they would become clearer and of more value in my sojourn. Not this time. This is just bloggin' for bloggin'-sake, something to break the slump of expression and re-ignite my quest for transparent authenticity.
So life's circumstances just kind of go on, regardless of your readiness level...Sandi's parent are both home now. For the moment, things are relatively stable and our involvement, though significant, is not at the fever pitch it had been. My Mom is dealing with shingles in the left eye and scalp region. At 91, a son can't help but wince at the odd combination of basic health and independence overlayed by a frail vulnerableness that reduces her ability to roll with life's punches. Caring for surviving parents can turn out to be a big deal when you get to the stage of life I am waking to each morning.
Couple these responsibilities with the weekly efforts to make a living at a 100% commission job and the enemy has plenty of handles and fodder to constantly offer me a background filled with worrisome noise and lies. My intentionality to be fostering a closer walk with God, to practice the presence of Christ, requires a near constant effort to shut down the senses of dread, angst and anxiety that stands at my door and knocks. You see, there are 2 standing at that door knocking and which I let in, which I believe to be true. determines the trajectory of the day.
Summer is so many peoples favorite season. It's not mine...too hot, to much burning sun trying to suck the moisture out of every living thing, especially our lawn. Trying to keep the grass green is a foolish hobby, I admit it. But I have fallen prey to trying to outwit nature's attempt to torch the front bank that sits at 45 degrees to the sun all day being tortured by the relentless rays. I read somewhere that our modern day sod really hearkens from very wet parts of the world. They require amazing amounts of water to stay green and for an old hose dragger like me, my efforts seem pathetic and worthy only of my embarrassment.
The talk of recession, the rising costs of everything, the lack of any visible relief on the horizon, these mark the news as reporters trip over themselves to tell us how bad it's getting and that we ain't seen nothin' yet. Taking a fast from the news is one idea for a cheap sort of vacation. Let them yammer on without me listening on or reading. Yet, the dismal financial outlook is also kind of a social leveler and acts to bring us together and give us all (well not the folks that live in North Oaks!) more of life in common. Instead of just some people feeling the pinch, it becomes a much more universally-felt experience and brings us together....sort of. The one redeeming feature to me is how it causes more people to be more deliberate about life, it slows down the consumption fever that is so easy to catch. When people start switching from Target to Walmart, from Outback to McDonalds, who's not to argue that things indeed seem to be winding down and the end feels like it's rushing toward us like a run-away train.
And so I spend my days with the pursuit of intimacy in walking through all of this with God, to loving my wife well, to chasing a living by matching qualified candidates with medical sales opportunities, by concentrating on keeping all the family plates spinning on each of their wobbling sticks and by nipping away at summer projects that feed my sense of simple accomplishment. An ordinary man going through an unspectacular life hoping not to miss the main priorities and hoping not to come out the other side having spent too much energy on mere survival and not enough on abandoned living. Attempting not to negatively effect those closest to me with my disciplined approach to "gettin' er' done!". To take time to see others, to slow my fevered pace to check things off the To Do list enough to be available, to be present in the now, to live in the moment. To quell my pull toward cynicism and to actually live (not just talk) in accordance with the truth I profess. Certainly not newsworthy stuff but it's all I've got for now and it does at least serve to break my 4-week bloggin' slump.
Time to get the birds some more food..... They neither sow nor reap yet......
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Joy? Really?....joy?
Amidst the swirl of life I start this post...who knows how long it may remain just a draft (turns out it was about 60 hours). Often it seems that my internal reservoirs of stuff to process just fill up. Not with nicely packaged, fully resolved life conclusions or breakthroughs. No, its more just ragged pieces and shards of thoughts that although incomplete, still seem somehow worth expressing. My hope is that at best, these articulated fragments might somehow miraculously gel and serve to paint in more of my picture. At worst, expressing them might at least bring me a modicum of simple relief.
Circumstantially, our family is back in the soup of juggling parental caregiving. Sandi's Mom fell and broke her hip on Thursday night and had it replaced on Saturday. This dear woman is wracked by arthritis and chronic pain. The fingers of her hands are like the gnarled roots of a tree. They deserve to be captured on canvas by a sensitive artist who could depict them as a pictorial symbol of what the world can deal out to us and yet regardless, we must persevere... there is beauty in that.
Sandi's Dad continues to recover from having his left foot amputated on Christmas day due to complications of CHF and previously undiagnosed diabetes. So Mom has been Dad's primary caregiver in the home. Between them, these two, dear, 80+ year old saints kind of make up one, sort of functioning person. But that fragile thread of functionality has been broken for now as Mom lays in the bed of managed care, surgical recovery and therapy.
So our family met Sunday night at 7PM around the kitchen table to carve out who will stay with Dad on which nights, meals, Dr. visits for Dad, hospital and soon TCU visits for Mom. Sandi's only- child status doesn't offer a cast of many to pitch in here. So the 2 kids still at home,Sandi and I are the "team". There is the church and even some friends that could be support possibilities but it turns out that Swedes just don't (can't?) ask for help and for now, (I'm now a Swede by marriage but my Italian nature makes me a pretty funny version of one!) we are keeping it in the immediate family.
OK, so my purpose for coloring in these details is really just to provide some backdrop for several arbitrary facts comprising part of the swirl of my 'now'. And 'now' is all I really have, it's where I need to live. Other pieces of the 'now' include the need for all 4 of us to maintain our jobs (3 full-time, 1 part-time). I am particularly desirous of keeping much of my focus on Sandi and how I can help nourish her during this latest rendition of the war zone of life. The brunt of all the logistics and juggling falls on her. No matter how much the other family members put on their calendars, any way you cut it, we are still just "supportin' cast" and Sandi has the lead role in this episode of Days of Our Lives.
So anyhow, with that as a lengthy introduction, I'm in my A.M. devotions and the subject of joy comes up. Regardless of one's theology, the fact that Jesus promises joy is tough to avoid. Joy? Why does this category seem so absent for me, so almost irrelevant? Worse yet, why does it feel almost like a cruel joke to entertain it as an expectation or as something to deliberately pursue? I mean seriously, joy? Right now, with the apparent outlook of the summer being tanked amidst the needs of getting family through another day,....joy? You must be freaking joking, right?
Yet joy is often spoken of in the scriptures...in John alone we read that Jesus has come that his joy would be in us and that this joy would be complete(15:11), that we are to ask anything in his name that we might receive and our joy will be complete(16:24), that Jesus told us his truths before returning to the Father so that we might have the full measure of his joy within us (17:13)and, in Nehemiah, that the joy of the Lord is our strength. Joy was certainly never meant to represent an irrelevant category...... Jesus seemed to see it as an essential part of what he came to do in us. Joy is the fruit of being in dynamic partnership with Jesus.
Wow! How humbling to see and have to confess the virtual absence of such joy in my life. Or am I just misunderstanding the word joy? Is it meant here in some subtly different way than my 21st century understanding can grok? Might the Greek lend a different sense of what this all means.
Not having the time right now to check out the Greek, I am left with the thought that joy is indeed what burbles up from a heart given over to God in utter submission. That yes, in the midst of trying to earn a living, juggling parental care, still launching kids and generally keeping the home fires burning there is a joy to be had. But perhaps not the yippee skippy kind of joy a 4 year old regularly exhibits. No, this is a more sober-minded, deep-rooted joy. Joy that one must be intentional about observing and acknowledging and finally confessing.
Bottom line, if I truly am the person the Bible says I am in Christ, if my position is in fact as it is described in the New Covenant, then Katie-bar-the door, I have every reason to have a deep-seated joy amidst the circumstances of today. Yet, it is a joy that must be fought for by being intentional and even forcefully aligning myself with the truth of what the Kingdom has to say about me in the face of the debilitating lies, attacks and innuendos offered up daily by Caesar's world.
I do enjoy theology. It's dangerous though. It can so easily serve as a category of understanding that merely stays mentally compartmentalized but never goes on to shape the actual experiencing of reality (ie. mere belief). Theologically, I understand joy and it's source (the finished work of Christ on my behalf).
I go down on record as desiring to give joy more relevancy, more priority. To being more intentional about letting it surface in my conscience more often. And to not rolling my eyes the next time something reminds me that Jesus actually intended my joy to be an essential ingredient of my walk with God, not just an optional accessory only available for a few of the super advanced followers of Jesus. Joy is for James and it's available NOW! Mine is to more fully appropriate it.
As a matter of fact, the presence of joy in my life is really a type of barometer. If I'm feeding off of/chasing the empty promises of Caesar's kingdom, my joy will be fleeting and totally based on circumstances. Good things happening to me = joy. Bad things happening to me = sorrow.
But if I am intentional in keeping the truth of who James is in Jesus: that I am part of the royal priesthood of believers, that I am a new creation, that I have been raised with Christ and am seated with him in the heavenly places, that I am Christ's friend, that I have been delegated his authority to use his name, that I have been called to advance the Kingdom of God, that I will never be separated from him and his love for me and that my eternal destiny is secure in the full work of Christ, then joy can't help but percolate it's way to the surface of my consciousness. My position in Christ will trump the temporary circumstances of this sojourn through a fallen world. I will have food to eat that is not of this kingdom.
You know, it's starting to feel like a sermon but I'm really just trying this on for size. I am in process, the process of being transformed, of being renovated into the image of Christ. Despite the fact that Jesus set his face like flint toward Calvary, he never lost the joy of who he was, how he was related to his Father, to where he was returning and for the bold work that he came to earth to accomplish. His joy was other worldly and so is the source of mine.
Bring it on Santiago, set your mind on things above, not on earthly things. Today represents only the opening chapters in the forever-ness of Kingdom projects where there will be no tears and sorrow. So Santiago, gird up those loins, get back into the fray and dare to be joyful in spite of the strong headwind.
Will the ushers please come forward....
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Random X 6 = me
Tag, you're "it". Wow, how many years has it been since I was "it". When I got a comment from Dave that I had been tagged I have to admit, I just sat there befuddled in a sort of pre-senile stupor wondering what in the world I was now to do. Eventually, I thought to go to "sportsandJesus" and voila!, we have lift-off. So 6 random things that are true about ol' Santiago heh?
1. Growing up we were always building "forts" of one kind or another. In 6th and 7th grade my buddies and I came up with the mother of all meeting places. We had a 100' water tower behind my house and we used to climb it about 3 or 4 nights a week and just hang out on the catwalk and talk. The neighbors were ever vigilant for such shenanigans and would often call the police if we accidentally banged the metal too hard and alerted folks to our presence. But that was the best part, because if we sensed we had been busted, we would climb the ladder to the top of the actual tank and lay around the top with our heads in a circle around the center. The police would come, shout at us with their bullhorns, shine their spotlights but couldn't see us because we were at the very top and they never dared climb up themselves. We just waited in silence and eventually they just left. High adventure indeed!
2. Dave had a fire story...me too. An older brother of some friends made us match guns from clothespins that shot wooden matches and ignited them on the way out. One of our friends had horses and a barn. We were goofing around and a match went under a locked door in the barn full of hay and started a horrendous fire. We alerted the owner and promptly pedaled our bikes out of there as fast as we could go, throwing out our matches and match guns as we raced down their long driveway. No horses perished (but reportedly some kitties did). We got in really bad trouble (it even made the 10PM news)and we had to appear before a juvenile court person who said he would try his best but he couldn't guarantee that he could keep us from having to go to reform school. All through 6th grade, whenever there was a knock on the classroom door, I was just sure that it was going to be a policeman who would simply say "Sorry bud, you lost, come with me". I tell you, I never played with matches again!
3.Maybe something really short....the above two are candidates for novella status.
I have a weird habit of always leaving one bite or one spoonful of food in the container of whatever. I never finish anything. Even if it's a glass of water, I leave some at the bottom. Really scary and I don't know why. At least I can never be blamed for eating or drinking the last of anything....there is always a little bit left with my neurotic strategy.
4.I never really had pets growing up. Mostly because my parents weren't real keen on the idea but also I feared getting real close and then having them die. I mourned over my dead goldfish, cried at Ol Yeller, cheered out loud at Free Willy. Well anyway, we have now had a family dog (technically my daughter's, her name is Chammi, a goldendoodle) for the last 3 years and I love her to pieces. It took 60 yrs but now I (we)have a dog!
5. A quick mini-series of randomness: I love peanut butter, mayonnaise and lettuce sandwiches; never go back once I leave no matter what was forgotten; only ask for directions if my wife threatens death; I'm rarely allowed to cut bread and cake because I just press on the knife rather than saw back and forth and end up squishing it.
6. I am addicted to feeling good about accomplishing projects around the house...resurfacing the deck boards and staining, putting in a new kitchen faucet, replacing a water turn-off valve, rebuilding a fence. I love that sense of satisfaction that comes with finishing such tasks, especially the ones where it seemed I was in over my head and came so close to having had to abort the mission (which pretty much describes almost all of my projects).
Well, that's it for this meme (as a first time memer, it is somewhat refreshing getting a subject assigned through being tagged and just writing about what someone else chooses for you). PS, I tried to look up meme but it doesn't appear in Websters).
And now, I tag the following people who I don't believe have been accosted quite yet:
Di
Marcell
Terri
1. Growing up we were always building "forts" of one kind or another. In 6th and 7th grade my buddies and I came up with the mother of all meeting places. We had a 100' water tower behind my house and we used to climb it about 3 or 4 nights a week and just hang out on the catwalk and talk. The neighbors were ever vigilant for such shenanigans and would often call the police if we accidentally banged the metal too hard and alerted folks to our presence. But that was the best part, because if we sensed we had been busted, we would climb the ladder to the top of the actual tank and lay around the top with our heads in a circle around the center. The police would come, shout at us with their bullhorns, shine their spotlights but couldn't see us because we were at the very top and they never dared climb up themselves. We just waited in silence and eventually they just left. High adventure indeed!
2. Dave had a fire story...me too. An older brother of some friends made us match guns from clothespins that shot wooden matches and ignited them on the way out. One of our friends had horses and a barn. We were goofing around and a match went under a locked door in the barn full of hay and started a horrendous fire. We alerted the owner and promptly pedaled our bikes out of there as fast as we could go, throwing out our matches and match guns as we raced down their long driveway. No horses perished (but reportedly some kitties did). We got in really bad trouble (it even made the 10PM news)and we had to appear before a juvenile court person who said he would try his best but he couldn't guarantee that he could keep us from having to go to reform school. All through 6th grade, whenever there was a knock on the classroom door, I was just sure that it was going to be a policeman who would simply say "Sorry bud, you lost, come with me". I tell you, I never played with matches again!
3.Maybe something really short....the above two are candidates for novella status.
I have a weird habit of always leaving one bite or one spoonful of food in the container of whatever. I never finish anything. Even if it's a glass of water, I leave some at the bottom. Really scary and I don't know why. At least I can never be blamed for eating or drinking the last of anything....there is always a little bit left with my neurotic strategy.
4.I never really had pets growing up. Mostly because my parents weren't real keen on the idea but also I feared getting real close and then having them die. I mourned over my dead goldfish, cried at Ol Yeller, cheered out loud at Free Willy. Well anyway, we have now had a family dog (technically my daughter's, her name is Chammi, a goldendoodle) for the last 3 years and I love her to pieces. It took 60 yrs but now I (we)have a dog!
5. A quick mini-series of randomness: I love peanut butter, mayonnaise and lettuce sandwiches; never go back once I leave no matter what was forgotten; only ask for directions if my wife threatens death; I'm rarely allowed to cut bread and cake because I just press on the knife rather than saw back and forth and end up squishing it.
6. I am addicted to feeling good about accomplishing projects around the house...resurfacing the deck boards and staining, putting in a new kitchen faucet, replacing a water turn-off valve, rebuilding a fence. I love that sense of satisfaction that comes with finishing such tasks, especially the ones where it seemed I was in over my head and came so close to having had to abort the mission (which pretty much describes almost all of my projects).
Well, that's it for this meme (as a first time memer, it is somewhat refreshing getting a subject assigned through being tagged and just writing about what someone else chooses for you). PS, I tried to look up meme but it doesn't appear in Websters).
And now, I tag the following people who I don't believe have been accosted quite yet:
Di
Marcell
Terri
Saturday, May 17, 2008
Thrashing about on a Saturday night
So it's 11:30PM, sitting here in one of those exhausted but stirred up modes. My youngest, Jenna, graduated today from UMD. My Mom and Sandi joined me to watch the ceremonies and congratulate my daughter's 5 years of tenacity. So what's the deal, why do I sit here in this funk, this kind of dark agitation?
Took a tour through some of the blogs....at least some of the ones listed on others blog sites. This little tour provided some relief from whatever is bugging me. Oh Terri, you were hurting and I didn't even know it til' I guess it was over. How strange to feel bad about that....we hardly even know one another but this blogland thing sure makes it feel otherwise. Di's reminder to stay on the coverage of the bootcamp, the incredible poem she has recently posted, Marcell's ode to Babe and soaring symphony featuring an organ, Danny's missional ministry house coming together, Greg's shout out to Jen, the lovely Kirsten and her boutique of words and poems and pictures, Dean getting the family established in Switzerland, Dave's sports riffs. Thank you one and all, you all ministered to me on this night in ways you can't know.
Jenna's Mom and her husband shared the day up in Duluth as well,as did my oldest Jessica and her beau Adam. Given my recent posts, spending time with both of my daughters and the interplay of current and former spouses has, I believe, contributed to whatever this vague malaise I find myself soaking in. Kind of a day spent in the Hamilton Beach blender on the frappe' setting of past, present and glimpses of future. Now just pour out this yummy concoction into chilled serving glasses and enjoy!
Jeesh, just go to bed Santiago. Yeah, but I would really like to put my finger on what this swirly thing around me is that I might process it accordingly and be done with it. Sat outside for awhile on my back looking at the stars, searching for God's voice, his word for me, his directions out of this mental maze. Did some warfare counter measures and bound, gagged and blinded every strategy of the foul spirits wishing to take me out. Walked the perimeter of my domain.
Nevertheless, I sit here clicking away at this keyboard like a chicken runs around after it's head has been chopped off. Don't feel like I'm getting any closer to clarity. Is it HR, the Canadian bootcamp, the embers of today's fires up north? What up Hoppy?
I can't help but feel that part of it is just that feeling of being kind of lost, overwhelmed by surrounding fog, feeling a total absence of any sort of control. Today a big chunk of life (ie. Jenna completing her degree) fell into place, time demonstrated that it indeed is marching on and I am just left with this sense of humbling angst and feeling like I am just off in the margins. I make no agreements with any of this!
Valid question: Why post all this crap? Pissed off answer: Because it's my blog and I just felt like thrashing around, regardless of whether or not resolution is to be found. Thrashing for thrashings sake. OK, time to put a merciful end to this unedifying meandering. I guess I will hit the ol' Publish Post button by way of leaving a sample, a veritable specimen, of the kind of loopy nonsense I sometimes find myself immersed in. Certainly won't be accused of trying to impress by laying down this kind of drivel...
Here's to a better morning....
Took a tour through some of the blogs....at least some of the ones listed on others blog sites. This little tour provided some relief from whatever is bugging me. Oh Terri, you were hurting and I didn't even know it til' I guess it was over. How strange to feel bad about that....we hardly even know one another but this blogland thing sure makes it feel otherwise. Di's reminder to stay on the coverage of the bootcamp, the incredible poem she has recently posted, Marcell's ode to Babe and soaring symphony featuring an organ, Danny's missional ministry house coming together, Greg's shout out to Jen, the lovely Kirsten and her boutique of words and poems and pictures, Dean getting the family established in Switzerland, Dave's sports riffs. Thank you one and all, you all ministered to me on this night in ways you can't know.
Jenna's Mom and her husband shared the day up in Duluth as well,as did my oldest Jessica and her beau Adam. Given my recent posts, spending time with both of my daughters and the interplay of current and former spouses has, I believe, contributed to whatever this vague malaise I find myself soaking in. Kind of a day spent in the Hamilton Beach blender on the frappe' setting of past, present and glimpses of future. Now just pour out this yummy concoction into chilled serving glasses and enjoy!
Jeesh, just go to bed Santiago. Yeah, but I would really like to put my finger on what this swirly thing around me is that I might process it accordingly and be done with it. Sat outside for awhile on my back looking at the stars, searching for God's voice, his word for me, his directions out of this mental maze. Did some warfare counter measures and bound, gagged and blinded every strategy of the foul spirits wishing to take me out. Walked the perimeter of my domain.
Nevertheless, I sit here clicking away at this keyboard like a chicken runs around after it's head has been chopped off. Don't feel like I'm getting any closer to clarity. Is it HR, the Canadian bootcamp, the embers of today's fires up north? What up Hoppy?
I can't help but feel that part of it is just that feeling of being kind of lost, overwhelmed by surrounding fog, feeling a total absence of any sort of control. Today a big chunk of life (ie. Jenna completing her degree) fell into place, time demonstrated that it indeed is marching on and I am just left with this sense of humbling angst and feeling like I am just off in the margins. I make no agreements with any of this!
Valid question: Why post all this crap? Pissed off answer: Because it's my blog and I just felt like thrashing around, regardless of whether or not resolution is to be found. Thrashing for thrashings sake. OK, time to put a merciful end to this unedifying meandering. I guess I will hit the ol' Publish Post button by way of leaving a sample, a veritable specimen, of the kind of loopy nonsense I sometimes find myself immersed in. Certainly won't be accused of trying to impress by laying down this kind of drivel...
Here's to a better morning....
Monday, May 12, 2008
Now is all I have
So it's felt freeing to describe several major chunks of my life spanning over 20 years. Flying over some woundings from youth, a life implosion in 1988, marriage separation in 1990, through divorce, long road of rambling recovery, remarriage on 1/6/01 and on up to today leaves me feeling exhausted but grateful. The interplay of God's grace woven through the ultimate consequences of sin.....
Sin, that word that political correctness abhors. That simple word defined in James as "...knows what is right to do but fails to do it" These relativistic times disallow all absolutes. Yet this I know, if you sow a black crop of twisted, dysfunctional seeds you will, you absolutely will, reap a strikingly similar crop.
Where are you going with this blog Hoppy? Well, only to say that mercy does indeed triumph over judgement! Christ's work on my behalf purchased for me a new lease on life. Initially surrendering myself to Jesus in May of 1975 put me on an entirely new path. Over a decade later, even when I fell off that path, my Savior was there to dust me off and hit the restart button of my life. Painless? Heck no. Quick? Absolutely not. Without cost? Please! I can only say that I am eternally grateful for his dogged pursuit of me, the chief of sinners.
And so it feels good to get out some of what I've come from and come through. Of course, none of us are called to live in the past-- the now is all we have and I want to be vitally alive to this moment..., and now this moment ....and now again, this present moment. Even this blog, regardless of what my intentions were when I first launched 500' Flyby, has become a tool in appropriating the essence, the heart of what matters in life, of being real with myself and losing all the bs that's seems so ever present and constantly offers itself as a substitute for the real deal.
The world shouts out it's nominations for noteworthy goals, objects worthy of pursuit and values of materialism that should simply shock us as observers. But alas, as frogs, we have been oblivious to the slowly increasing temperature of the now boiling water. Actually, saying the world 'shouts' is too mild. The world screams out it's messages 24/7 in every way imaginable. Just one example of this worldly message is a current, frequently shown TV ad: Guy imagines owning a really cool flat panel TV and wanders off to the store in an almost trance-like mode with the background 'jingle' going on like a mantra...."I want it all, I want it all, I want it all".... And now you can, with your Chase credit card...get it now, pay for it later. The American way....(Oh, don't get me going!)
I would love to say that I am impervious to all this...but it creeps in. I look above the fireplace, see this brick expanse that would be such a cool place for something...but what?....a painting?....a mounted sword perhaps?....no, how about a 40" flat panel TV? Somehow, that idea has wormed it's way into my mind and is making a mighty effort at stirring desire and that desire is making a tenacious effort at creating momentum of action and a plan to bring all this into realization....."I want it all"
But these days, perhaps with the benefit of more age, (spelled maturity for those keeping score at home), comes a bit more ability to quell the knee-jerk reactions, to see through the lie of: happiness = ownership of lots of cool stuff. And for that I am grateful Lord but this quality is hardly well-established...more like a thin veneer of ice easily broken through. Protect me from the moguls of Madison Avenue!
As a recovering hedonist, I have spent a lifetime chasing happiness in all the wrong places. Today, I am aware that my game is well beyond halftime, maybe even into the 4th quarter. I am hungry to bring an end to so much "life by default", to be more intentional, to spend my energies on things that really matter. Sounds kind of lofty...the kind of a statement that seems better coming from one speaking from some raised platform more so than from me.
Yet that too has worn thin, that chronic defeatist sense of mine, that self-limiting, keep-your-aspirations-modest-lest-you-deliver-only-more-failure. Since betraying myself and my family, I have become painfully aware of all the time I have spent holding myself hostage, constantly beating up on myself and being my own worst enemy. Being "hard on myself" eventually became a virtual hobby (albeit a diabolical one).
However (thank you God that there is a 'however'!), the last several years have brought increasing levels of redemption, restoration, of applying more of the good news to more of me, of the Lord coming into my various prison cells and flinging open some barred doors, of substantial healing of my brokenheartedness. And for that Jesus, let me just stop and say thank you Father. Thank you for not abandoning me, for showing me a living example of what "unconditional" really looks like. Keep it coming Lord, keep it coming.
So what of my "now"? What are my current priorities, the items that I believe either should be or are already the focus of my attention?
Perhaps a quick listing, no particular order, a sort of data dump:
1. A desire to not live my life as though it's just a "waiting room" before heaven and eternal bliss.
2. The importance of living in a conversational intimacy with God.
3. The truth that wholeness and holiness go hand in hand...there is no freedom without holiness and vice versa.
4. That my life is aggressively opposed by a real live enemy (who is not shooting rubber bullets) with an intensity that seems in direct proportion to the degree I serve as an agent for advancing the Kingdom on earth as it is in heaven.
5. That it is not about me.
6. That if Jesus has forgiven me then I must as well...not doing so is nothing less than perverse pride from the very pit of hell.
7. That my judgement, my incessant judgement of others must be collapsed.
8. That there is nothing more valuable, more thrill-producing, more lasting and pleasure-inducing than walking with God.
9. That the political thrusts of this country/world are of Caesar and I am never again to merge /superimpose them with or onto the ways of the Kingdom.
10.That there is no auto-pilot setting in life and that all of the above require an ongoing level of my most diligent intentionality.
11. That somehow in all of this, God still allows me to laugh and to see humor amidst the journey (the hardest laughs are at myself) and to enjoy the many blessings he provides along the way.
Well, I am certain this is not exhaustive but it seems to be a fair expression of the basic core of where I am at in this "spring" (and I use the term loosely) of 2008.
For now, I offer these words in this blog to make my current outlook more concrete, less swirly. I submit this for all blogging eyes to see that I may be more public, more transparent, more accountable for what I profess as being important and in the interests of letting the light of day wash over what otherwise would remain mostly internal.
Note to self: I wonder if blogging will ever feel more natural, less self-absorbed and more clearly worth engaging in....? Jesus, what have you to say about this? I am willing to hear either a yes or a no.....
Sin, that word that political correctness abhors. That simple word defined in James as "...knows what is right to do but fails to do it" These relativistic times disallow all absolutes. Yet this I know, if you sow a black crop of twisted, dysfunctional seeds you will, you absolutely will, reap a strikingly similar crop.
Where are you going with this blog Hoppy? Well, only to say that mercy does indeed triumph over judgement! Christ's work on my behalf purchased for me a new lease on life. Initially surrendering myself to Jesus in May of 1975 put me on an entirely new path. Over a decade later, even when I fell off that path, my Savior was there to dust me off and hit the restart button of my life. Painless? Heck no. Quick? Absolutely not. Without cost? Please! I can only say that I am eternally grateful for his dogged pursuit of me, the chief of sinners.
And so it feels good to get out some of what I've come from and come through. Of course, none of us are called to live in the past-- the now is all we have and I want to be vitally alive to this moment..., and now this moment ....and now again, this present moment. Even this blog, regardless of what my intentions were when I first launched 500' Flyby, has become a tool in appropriating the essence, the heart of what matters in life, of being real with myself and losing all the bs that's seems so ever present and constantly offers itself as a substitute for the real deal.
The world shouts out it's nominations for noteworthy goals, objects worthy of pursuit and values of materialism that should simply shock us as observers. But alas, as frogs, we have been oblivious to the slowly increasing temperature of the now boiling water. Actually, saying the world 'shouts' is too mild. The world screams out it's messages 24/7 in every way imaginable. Just one example of this worldly message is a current, frequently shown TV ad: Guy imagines owning a really cool flat panel TV and wanders off to the store in an almost trance-like mode with the background 'jingle' going on like a mantra...."I want it all, I want it all, I want it all".... And now you can, with your Chase credit card...get it now, pay for it later. The American way....(Oh, don't get me going!)
I would love to say that I am impervious to all this...but it creeps in. I look above the fireplace, see this brick expanse that would be such a cool place for something...but what?....a painting?....a mounted sword perhaps?....no, how about a 40" flat panel TV? Somehow, that idea has wormed it's way into my mind and is making a mighty effort at stirring desire and that desire is making a tenacious effort at creating momentum of action and a plan to bring all this into realization....."I want it all"
But these days, perhaps with the benefit of more age, (spelled maturity for those keeping score at home), comes a bit more ability to quell the knee-jerk reactions, to see through the lie of: happiness = ownership of lots of cool stuff. And for that I am grateful Lord but this quality is hardly well-established...more like a thin veneer of ice easily broken through. Protect me from the moguls of Madison Avenue!
As a recovering hedonist, I have spent a lifetime chasing happiness in all the wrong places. Today, I am aware that my game is well beyond halftime, maybe even into the 4th quarter. I am hungry to bring an end to so much "life by default", to be more intentional, to spend my energies on things that really matter. Sounds kind of lofty...the kind of a statement that seems better coming from one speaking from some raised platform more so than from me.
Yet that too has worn thin, that chronic defeatist sense of mine, that self-limiting, keep-your-aspirations-modest-lest-you-deliver-only-more-failure. Since betraying myself and my family, I have become painfully aware of all the time I have spent holding myself hostage, constantly beating up on myself and being my own worst enemy. Being "hard on myself" eventually became a virtual hobby (albeit a diabolical one).
However (thank you God that there is a 'however'!), the last several years have brought increasing levels of redemption, restoration, of applying more of the good news to more of me, of the Lord coming into my various prison cells and flinging open some barred doors, of substantial healing of my brokenheartedness. And for that Jesus, let me just stop and say thank you Father. Thank you for not abandoning me, for showing me a living example of what "unconditional" really looks like. Keep it coming Lord, keep it coming.
So what of my "now"? What are my current priorities, the items that I believe either should be or are already the focus of my attention?
Perhaps a quick listing, no particular order, a sort of data dump:
1. A desire to not live my life as though it's just a "waiting room" before heaven and eternal bliss.
2. The importance of living in a conversational intimacy with God.
3. The truth that wholeness and holiness go hand in hand...there is no freedom without holiness and vice versa.
4. That my life is aggressively opposed by a real live enemy (who is not shooting rubber bullets) with an intensity that seems in direct proportion to the degree I serve as an agent for advancing the Kingdom on earth as it is in heaven.
5. That it is not about me.
6. That if Jesus has forgiven me then I must as well...not doing so is nothing less than perverse pride from the very pit of hell.
7. That my judgement, my incessant judgement of others must be collapsed.
8. That there is nothing more valuable, more thrill-producing, more lasting and pleasure-inducing than walking with God.
9. That the political thrusts of this country/world are of Caesar and I am never again to merge /superimpose them with or onto the ways of the Kingdom.
10.That there is no auto-pilot setting in life and that all of the above require an ongoing level of my most diligent intentionality.
11. That somehow in all of this, God still allows me to laugh and to see humor amidst the journey (the hardest laughs are at myself) and to enjoy the many blessings he provides along the way.
Well, I am certain this is not exhaustive but it seems to be a fair expression of the basic core of where I am at in this "spring" (and I use the term loosely) of 2008.
For now, I offer these words in this blog to make my current outlook more concrete, less swirly. I submit this for all blogging eyes to see that I may be more public, more transparent, more accountable for what I profess as being important and in the interests of letting the light of day wash over what otherwise would remain mostly internal.
Note to self: I wonder if blogging will ever feel more natural, less self-absorbed and more clearly worth engaging in....? Jesus, what have you to say about this? I am willing to hear either a yes or a no.....
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Out of the Swamp
Glory! How blessed I am that where I last left off is not the rest of the story. How incredibly thankful I am that the redemption and restoration of the crucified, resurrected and ascended Lover of my soul is having the last word! Not to go off like some raving evangelical religious guy, but Praise God he has some more for me!
I have told of the day I was shaving and got smitten with this delayed conviction of what I had unleashed. That was nothing less than the day that Jesus waded into my fetid swamp, knocked me out, slung me over his shoulder and started to carry me on the journey out. And a short journey it was not....
So much of those days during the two-year separation and following the divorce are like lost time. The healing and recovery that was underway was way too imperceptible to bring any kind of visceral relief. No, the noise and chaos of just trying to survive, keep my job, find a way to continue to be a father to my precious daughters and not drown in the dark tank of depression that dogged me resulted in an overall numbness that defied description.
Initially my struggles were to find housing that would be appropriate to bring my girls into for weekends together. That took a while. In one twelve month span, I moved at least eight times, sometimes in places that were safe for two girls aged 6 and 7, other times not so much.
For instance, there was the "season" I moved into one of those "rooms for rent" within a private home. Sounded good, scoped out the place in a drive by...nice, suburban split level in Maplewood. Met the lady, toured the place and signed up. Things got decidedly more dicey, however, within days of move in. When I would go down to watch TV in the communal family room there was always a cast of unsavory characters that would seem to perpetually be there and others that would endlessly drop by with their Dobermans. A normal evening was like a clip from one of those Discovery channel programs: "Inside Folsom Prison". I noticed, in checking for my mail, that the pile almost always had a number of envelopes addressed to a wide variety of people with return addresses like: State Dept. of Corrections, Parole Office, Ramsey County Courthouse etc. So much for bringing my girls over....I lived there for three weeks, broke my rental agreement and literally backed out of the house with my paltry belongings and their vicious threats that I would not be getting away with this.
Fortunately, things did eventually start to get better. After living in a friend's apartment that was paid up for five more weeks, trying another "rental in a private home" deal, house sitting out in Afton for the winter, I eventually got an apartment in the ghetto of Woodbury (yes, despite it's well-known affluence, there is one and if you come with me I will show you). This was my new base camp which provided some welcomed stability and a home near my girls that would accommodate frequent visits. Those frequent visits were a major thumbprint of God's redemptive work in my circumstances.
The two years leading up to our marriage dissolution could not have been more acrimonious. For a time, it seriously appeared as though the girl's mother would be taking them and moving back to her hometown in Idaho. I had absolutely no recourse in the matter. Those were the darkest of days, anticipating that separation, feeling helpless to prevent it and getting schooled in the non-rights of fathers in such situations. (Source of some frustration: How do the courts expect to foster fathering in children's lives when all that is most commonly offered is "visitation rights".....how do you effectively parent with just "visitation" rights?) I began to gain some understanding of what must sometimes be behind some of the abductions we endlessly hear/read about. Yet, very soon after signing the final papers things started to turn decidedly less caustic. It was as if a major point had been made, some justice had been served, a penalty had been exacted and now there was room for the entrance of at least minimum levels of cordiality and some additonal leeway in making more accommodating visitation arrangements.
Now living within 14 miles of the girls, every other weekend began to morph into the addition of 1 or 2 weeknights as well. I would drive the girls to their schools the next morning. This felt so good, to be more dynamically in J&J's everyday life. Those were the days learning the rules of Mom's House, Dad's House (a book that was helpful at the time). My highest priority was my daughters. The end of our marriage was the beginning of me becoming an infinitely more dedicated father. Within a couple of years, I was able to buy a townhouse in Woodbury which offered even greater feelings of permanency and increased stability.
Every other weekend and a couple of weeknights with my kids gave me hope that perhaps I could protect them from the worst effects of "a broken home". I heard myself often saying, "You have a full time Mom who loves you and a full time Dad who loves you, just not under the same roof". Sounds better than it really is, kind of skirts around and ignores the true impact of it all but certainly a distant consolation prize. To this day(and with no thoughts of ever stopping), I continue to be concerned and vigilant for the fallout of this trauma upon their fragile lives. (It's just that now, at 23 and 24, they are outside of so much of my grasp but for prayer, thank you God for prayer!)
Meanwhile, I spent post traumatic years in a charismatic Lutheran church (now there's a juxtaposition for ya', kind of like the Lord slipped the Scandinavians a spiritual mickey) that many had come to over the years to find a place of healing. But healing did not come quickly...I spent more than a year merely attending the "blue haired ladies service" doing little more than just staring at the cross and trying to hear from God. I made no effort to meet anyone or to participate...I simply came to present myself to God and pray for forgiveness and for my girls. After several years, I tentatively stepped out and became involved in altar prayer and some men's ministries. And then, five years ago, my time at that church came to an abrupt end, not by my efforts but through direct intervention from Kingdom emissaries. The time came when I couldn't get one thing from a service, it was as if the church had turned to brass for me, even though everyone else seemed to be having no problems. Every inquiry of mine to Jesus was met simply with "Your time here is over", but with no direction for any alternative/Plan B.
Which more or less brings me to the present. After coming to WH as a casual visitor a couple of times (because my girls were going there and liked it) I ended up discovering that this was to become my new church body. And over the last five years there has been a marked crescendoing of healing, outfitting for ministry, clarity of identity and generally growing a bit more comfortable in my own skin. I expect I have returned to where I could have been some 15 or 20 years ago if I hadn't taken some very wrong turns.
Describing all this has been pure work. As a rookie in blogging (twelve posts and counting), I have experienced some deep satisfaction and even some fun in birthing some posts. This has not been like that but still seemed necessary. I liken it to those corporate websites that always have little sections you can click on like Product, Contact, About Us. Yes, this has been About Me, it provides some background and some historical perspective on who I am today and how I got here. Tentatively, I plan on coming back to post about....ahhh, never mind.... This 500'Flyby has nothing to do with my plans. I just hope to be back soon with more of who knows what.
James, you have worked hard...come over here and rest under the Big Pine...cease striving and know that I am your Lord and go before you in all you do.
I have told of the day I was shaving and got smitten with this delayed conviction of what I had unleashed. That was nothing less than the day that Jesus waded into my fetid swamp, knocked me out, slung me over his shoulder and started to carry me on the journey out. And a short journey it was not....
So much of those days during the two-year separation and following the divorce are like lost time. The healing and recovery that was underway was way too imperceptible to bring any kind of visceral relief. No, the noise and chaos of just trying to survive, keep my job, find a way to continue to be a father to my precious daughters and not drown in the dark tank of depression that dogged me resulted in an overall numbness that defied description.
Initially my struggles were to find housing that would be appropriate to bring my girls into for weekends together. That took a while. In one twelve month span, I moved at least eight times, sometimes in places that were safe for two girls aged 6 and 7, other times not so much.
For instance, there was the "season" I moved into one of those "rooms for rent" within a private home. Sounded good, scoped out the place in a drive by...nice, suburban split level in Maplewood. Met the lady, toured the place and signed up. Things got decidedly more dicey, however, within days of move in. When I would go down to watch TV in the communal family room there was always a cast of unsavory characters that would seem to perpetually be there and others that would endlessly drop by with their Dobermans. A normal evening was like a clip from one of those Discovery channel programs: "Inside Folsom Prison". I noticed, in checking for my mail, that the pile almost always had a number of envelopes addressed to a wide variety of people with return addresses like: State Dept. of Corrections, Parole Office, Ramsey County Courthouse etc. So much for bringing my girls over....I lived there for three weeks, broke my rental agreement and literally backed out of the house with my paltry belongings and their vicious threats that I would not be getting away with this.
Fortunately, things did eventually start to get better. After living in a friend's apartment that was paid up for five more weeks, trying another "rental in a private home" deal, house sitting out in Afton for the winter, I eventually got an apartment in the ghetto of Woodbury (yes, despite it's well-known affluence, there is one and if you come with me I will show you). This was my new base camp which provided some welcomed stability and a home near my girls that would accommodate frequent visits. Those frequent visits were a major thumbprint of God's redemptive work in my circumstances.
The two years leading up to our marriage dissolution could not have been more acrimonious. For a time, it seriously appeared as though the girl's mother would be taking them and moving back to her hometown in Idaho. I had absolutely no recourse in the matter. Those were the darkest of days, anticipating that separation, feeling helpless to prevent it and getting schooled in the non-rights of fathers in such situations. (Source of some frustration: How do the courts expect to foster fathering in children's lives when all that is most commonly offered is "visitation rights".....how do you effectively parent with just "visitation" rights?) I began to gain some understanding of what must sometimes be behind some of the abductions we endlessly hear/read about. Yet, very soon after signing the final papers things started to turn decidedly less caustic. It was as if a major point had been made, some justice had been served, a penalty had been exacted and now there was room for the entrance of at least minimum levels of cordiality and some additonal leeway in making more accommodating visitation arrangements.
Now living within 14 miles of the girls, every other weekend began to morph into the addition of 1 or 2 weeknights as well. I would drive the girls to their schools the next morning. This felt so good, to be more dynamically in J&J's everyday life. Those were the days learning the rules of Mom's House, Dad's House (a book that was helpful at the time). My highest priority was my daughters. The end of our marriage was the beginning of me becoming an infinitely more dedicated father. Within a couple of years, I was able to buy a townhouse in Woodbury which offered even greater feelings of permanency and increased stability.
Every other weekend and a couple of weeknights with my kids gave me hope that perhaps I could protect them from the worst effects of "a broken home". I heard myself often saying, "You have a full time Mom who loves you and a full time Dad who loves you, just not under the same roof". Sounds better than it really is, kind of skirts around and ignores the true impact of it all but certainly a distant consolation prize. To this day(and with no thoughts of ever stopping), I continue to be concerned and vigilant for the fallout of this trauma upon their fragile lives. (It's just that now, at 23 and 24, they are outside of so much of my grasp but for prayer, thank you God for prayer!)
Meanwhile, I spent post traumatic years in a charismatic Lutheran church (now there's a juxtaposition for ya', kind of like the Lord slipped the Scandinavians a spiritual mickey) that many had come to over the years to find a place of healing. But healing did not come quickly...I spent more than a year merely attending the "blue haired ladies service" doing little more than just staring at the cross and trying to hear from God. I made no effort to meet anyone or to participate...I simply came to present myself to God and pray for forgiveness and for my girls. After several years, I tentatively stepped out and became involved in altar prayer and some men's ministries. And then, five years ago, my time at that church came to an abrupt end, not by my efforts but through direct intervention from Kingdom emissaries. The time came when I couldn't get one thing from a service, it was as if the church had turned to brass for me, even though everyone else seemed to be having no problems. Every inquiry of mine to Jesus was met simply with "Your time here is over", but with no direction for any alternative/Plan B.
Which more or less brings me to the present. After coming to WH as a casual visitor a couple of times (because my girls were going there and liked it) I ended up discovering that this was to become my new church body. And over the last five years there has been a marked crescendoing of healing, outfitting for ministry, clarity of identity and generally growing a bit more comfortable in my own skin. I expect I have returned to where I could have been some 15 or 20 years ago if I hadn't taken some very wrong turns.
Describing all this has been pure work. As a rookie in blogging (twelve posts and counting), I have experienced some deep satisfaction and even some fun in birthing some posts. This has not been like that but still seemed necessary. I liken it to those corporate websites that always have little sections you can click on like Product, Contact, About Us. Yes, this has been About Me, it provides some background and some historical perspective on who I am today and how I got here. Tentatively, I plan on coming back to post about....ahhh, never mind.... This 500'Flyby has nothing to do with my plans. I just hope to be back soon with more of who knows what.
James, you have worked hard...come over here and rest under the Big Pine...cease striving and know that I am your Lord and go before you in all you do.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)