Remembering

The other night I had a dream about my dad.  In the dream, my sister and I were walking in what seemed to be a crowded fair.  There were people everywhere, not really pushing and shoving, but definitely in each other’s personal space.  As we walked, we passed by a man who looked somewhat familiar.  In a few short seconds, we looked at each other in surprise.  That familiar face belonged to our dad!  We turned and quickly caught up with him, hugging him with tears streaming down our faces.  “Dad, Dad, Dad,” we cried.  We were so happy to see him again.

I know that a dream is simply a dream.  And, oftentimes, telling someone else your dreams is kind of pointless.  It’s a dream, right?

But, this dream made me yearn for my dad more than ever. 

He passed away on May 12, 2006.  Each of us in the family has dealt with the grief in very different ways.  My mom of course, his soulmate for over 50 years, has had the hardest time.  My sisters and I miss him in very different ways as we all had a different relationship with him.  But our grief is somehow the same as we all remember my dad as the rock of our family.  The one, when we went through various life challenges, who was always there for us, always the calm, cool, wise man who helped us to see the simplicity and real truth in any situation.  He had a wonderful sense of humor and many mornings we woke up to hear him singing a silly song that he could make up for any occasion.  There were days when this wake up call would annoy us – we weren’t all morning people, after all - but in my memory, these mornings symbolized the happiest of times with the happiest of men.

Not only was he a great dad, he was also a wonderful grandpa.  He held a special place in his heart for each of his grandchildren and truly enjoyed the freedom of retirement that offered him quality time to spend with each and every one.  I remember the time he took my two little boys on a camping trip.  The three of them (with the help of my mom) packed the boat with camping equipment, coolers of food and games.  Waving goodbye to grandma, they set off on their adventure.  My dad drove in circles around the lake for over an hour, helping my boys to believe that they were taking a very long trip to an exciting place.  Eventually, he motored to the campground which was only a short distance from their home.  They unpacked, set up their tent, played games, built a campfire and enjoyed an outdoor picnic.  The next morning, they headed for home.  This type of adventure - the creativity, the ability he had to make us believe in great things - that was the hallmark of my dad.

During the past several years of my dad’s life, he attended the Demontriville Jesuit Retreat House in Lake Elmo, MN annually.  This silent retreat began on Thursday night and lasted through Sunday night.  My dad had always been a good Christian man, but during these years, he became deeply close to God.  I’m thankful that he had this time and that he knew exactly where he was going before he passed on.

I picture him now, sitting near Jesus, telling stories, sharing a silly song and a joke.  I see him, walking the streets of gold, whistling and smiling.  I see him welcoming each newcomer to heaven with a generous and loving hug.

We love you, Dad and know that we will be with you again.

 ¹ “Do not let your hearts be troubled. You believe in God; believe also in me. ² My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you? ³ And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am. ⁴ You know the way to the place where I am going.”                                              John 14:1-4

And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Look! God’s dwelling place is now among the people, and he will dwell with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. ⁴ ‘He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.”                                                                                      Revelations 21.3

If thou shalt confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus, and shalt believe in thine heart that God hath raised him from the dead, THOU SHALT BE SAVED.

Romans 10:9

Merry-Go-Round

How many people can say that their all time most embarrassing moment occurred when they were seven years old?  Their ALL TIME, MOST EMBARASSING moment! 

I was in first grade at Sacred Heart Catholic School in Eau Claire, Wisconsin.  Every day after lunch we were allowed recess time (remember recess time?) to play in the school playground, ride the merry-go-round, swing on the swing set, spin round and round on the spinning gates,  play four square, or walk hand in hand with a friend.

This particular day, I chose the merry-go-round as my playground toy of choice.  Even back then I was a bit of a diva and somewhat bossy with my friends (or so my mother said).  I decided that I would be the queen of the merry-go-round and all my little friends would be my faithful servants (slaves?).  They would be allowed to push the merry-go-round while I sat on my throne in the middle. 

What fun!  I felt so important, perched up on my throne while my friends did all the work.  I ordered them, “Faster!”  “Go Slaves!”  And they followed my orders.  Round and round I went. 

Suddenly I experienced a very uncomfortable feeling.  It seemed that my underwear was getting tighter each time the merry-go-round spun 360 degrees.  I’m sure that my facial expressions changed very quickly from queen of the throne superiority to confused, astonished, worried, and finally frantic as I called out, “STOP!”  I’m not sure how, but it seemed my underwear and the back of my slip had become one with the merry-go-round.  “Go back the other way! I yelled, thinking that perhaps going in reverse would somehow unwind my very twisted under things. 

No such luck.  Each rotation, rather forward or in reverse, only made things tighter and tighter!  Again, I yelled, “STOP!”  “I’m stuck!  Go get help!” I screamed. 

Help came in the form of three prim and proper nuns, dressed in full habits, their uniform of the day.  One of the nuns, the school nurse, climbed aboard the merry-go-round and quietly surveyed the crisis.  After assessing the problem, she headed back into the school and soon returned, armed with a scissors and, oh horrors, a razor!  The other two nuns, hands tucked neatly into their habits, stood by watching the scene with quiet calm and stern looks (or maybe they were just trying very hard not to crack up.)  All of my little slaves stood by as well, whispering and murmuring to one another.

The school nurse climbed back up on the merry-go-round, knelt down and gently and carefully (guarding me from indecent exposure) began to liberate me from the Monster-Go-Round.  Clipping, snipping, and razoring as gently as possible, she worked for what seemed like hours as other nuns and more students looked on.

Eventually, I was free.  I felt a very cool breeze where my underwear used to be.  The back of my slip was completely cut away.  I spent the remainder of the day, holding my uniform dress as close as possible to my body, my face red, my queen-like superiority gone.

Have you ever felt that your life is spinning out of control?  That things are closing in and tightening around you?  That no matter what direction you choose, things just seem to be getting worse?  Do you sometimes place yourself on the queen’s throne even though on the inside you feel more like one of the slaves? 

Just as the school nurse quietly and discreetly freed me from the Monster-Go-Round, God, on a moment by moment basis, can free us from our feelings of being out of control, of being stressed, or of being insecure.  He knows us intimately, and offers us continuous grace.  Put those feelings in His hands. He loves us unconditionally! 

¹ Oh Lord, you have examined my heart

and know everything about me.

 ² You know when I sit down or stand up. 

You know my every thought when far away.  
³You chart the path ahead of me

 and tell me where to stop and rest.  

Every moment you know where I am. 

⁴ You know what I am going to say even before I say it, Lord.    
⁵You both precede me and follow me.
You place your hand of blessing on my head.          Psalm 139:1-4
                     

                                                               

Broken Trust

Have you ever been betrayed?  Webster defines betray eight different ways:

be·tray

• to deliver or expose to an enemy by treachery or disloyalty: Benedict Arnold betrayed his country.
• to be unfaithful in guarding, maintaining, or fulfilling: to betray a trust.
• to disappoint the hopes or expectations of; be disloyal to: to betray one's friends.
• to reveal or disclose in violation of confidence: to betray a secret.
• to reveal unconsciously (something one would preferably conceal): Her nervousness betrays her insecurity.
• to show or exhibit; reveal; disclose: an unfeeling remark that betrays his lack of concern.
• to deceive, misguide, or corrupt: a young lawyer betrayed by political ambitions into irreparable folly.
• to seduce and desert.

In my lifetime, I’ve experienced almost all of the different ways that one can be betrayed.  And, I have been the betrayer.  I’ve betrayed trust, I’ve betrayed my friends (sometimes with a simple few words of gossip), I’ve betrayed secrets, I’ve shown lack of concern for some and I’ve deceived and misguided others . . .

Just recently, I was betrayed by someone that I love.  I have struggled with an unforgiving and judging heart because of this betrayal.  I have tried to “fix” the situation, especially in my heart, but cannot seem to come to any real peace over this. 

Until today . . .   This morning, while reading my daily devotional, “Jesus Calling,” I was reminded, once again, that I need to learn to live above my circumstances.  Above my circumstances, I wondered?  As I sat quietly, I realized that what this means is that sometimes we need to get right with God, then take a God’s-eye view of our situation.   I pictured myself, hovering above and objectively and lovingly looking at my betrayer through God’s eyes.

What I realized when I focused on God, not on my hurt, is that God may be using this situation to bring us all closer to Him.  I also realized that it is not my problem to judge, but only to forgive and allow the Father to work through the situation.  Once I’ve forgiven, only then can I be forgiven.  So I asked for forgiveness for my hardened heart and my anger.

Corrie Ten Boom, a Christian woman who survived a Nazi concentration camp during the Holocaust, said, “Forgiveness is to set a prisoner free, and to realize the prisoner was you.”  So, I forgave.  I thanked God for opening my eyes and my heart.  I thanked him (in advance) for bringing this person closer to Him.  And, guess what?  The heaviness in my heart was lifted!  And, I knew that I was forgiven.

Do not judge, and you will not be judged. Do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven.                          Luke 6:37 (NIV)

"And when you stand praying, if you hold anything against anyone, forgive him, so that your Father in heaven may forgive you your sins."    Mark 11:25 (NIV)

She Speaks: Fuel for My Faith Journey

I wish that I could share with you the many discombobulated stacks of journals that I’ve been writing in and keeping for most of my life.  I have journals written in spiral notebooks, fancy colorful journals, journals that lay out and format how and what you will write, journals that focus on fitness and health, journals that focus on empowerment, and, I’m ashamed to say, just as my faith journey seems to take so many twists and turns, many of the entries into said journals lack dates.  I often pick up one journal and write in it awhile, then, some weeks later pick up another and write in it.
 
I wonder what my children will think after I’ve gone as they read some of my first entries written by a first or second grader where I journal about the Christmas gifts I’ve received, “I got new mittens!” “I got a new hat” “I got my first journal!” “I lost a mitten!”  “I found a mitten!”  (It’s obvious that I have no journaling experience as I write one of these brief entries on each day in the journal.)
 
God has been the constant in this jumble of journals and in my life.  In my journals I thank Him, I praise Him, I cry out to Him.  At times, I trust Him without hesitation.  At other times, I wonder where He has gone.  I find that, when I allow Him, He drives the desires of my heart.  And, in the past many years, He has been sending me a strong and consistent message.
 
“Bring them to me.”  “Share Your Story.”  “Write Your Book.”  “Plan Your Speech.”  “Bring them to me.”
 
I’ve started my book, “Faith Journey.”  I’ve written the introduction and outlined my ideas.  I’ve come upon a theme for my book.  But, over the past several years, I can’t seem to get going, really get going, with My Book.  This past weekend and for the past twelve plus years, I have attended Set Apart, a Christian Women’s Conference at Northwestern College in Roseville, MN.  This year, my friend Kim inquired about “My Book.”  She, with all the love and encouragement you can find in a dear friend, pushed me, prodded me, and gave me an idea to get me going.  “Write a blog,” she said, “This will get you writing on a consistent basis and could some day be the makings of your book.  I said I’d think about it.

Then I received the e-newletter from Lysa Terkuerst about the She Speaks Scholarship.  Oh, and you have to have a blog.  Hmmmm.  Okay, I hear you, God.

“Bring them to me.”  “Share Your Story.”  “Write Your Book.”  “Plan Your Speech.”  “Bring them to me.” 

I’m ready to write that book.  I’m ready to plan that presentation.  I’m ready, God.  Choose me.

"For everything, absolutely everything, above and below, visible and invisible, . . . everything got started in him and finds its purpose in him. . . . Colossians 1:15 (Msg)

Locked Out

I just spent a whole hour standing in my garage and wandering around the outside of my house in the snow and in my pajama bottoms, sweatshirt and vest, and my husband's size 10 Sorrel boots.
 
I woke up this morning early, really early, 4:30 or so.  As I lay in bed and thought about my day, I asked God to help me with my blog today.  “Put something really good in my mind and heart, Lord,” I prayed, “Something people will relate to and like to read.”  Very shortly, I would learn that our Lord has a wonderful sense of humor.

I got up, read my daily devotion, wrote in my journal, and drank a cup of tea.  Then I realized how very tired I was.  Really?  It was only 5:30 in the morning!  I know some people thrive on this kind of schedule and this kind of morning, but, today I decided to go back to bed.  I slept until 8:30, woke up refreshed, looked outside and saw the sun shining through my bay window.
 
The view from my bay window is awesome.  I have a bit of a bird sanctuary in my back yard with several different types of feeders, currently sitting empty.  “Well, it’s such a beautiful day, I’m sure my birds would appreciate some fresh food!”  So, I put on a vest over my pjs, slip on my husband’s very large Sorrels, and trot outside to fill the feeders.  That duty complete, I climb rather sluggishly up the stairs (big heavy boots, remember) and “OH NO!” the door is locked.  In fact all of my doors are locked!  And, my cell phone is in the house on the charger.  But, confidently, I say a quick prayer, knowing that this little emergency will be short-lived.

No worries, we always keep a key in a secret place.  I won’t say where just in case there’s a robber out there reading this blog, but suffice it to say, a person needs to get down on her stomach and reach way under something to find this key.  I get the key and hurry (as fast as I can in these big boots) back to the door.  Again, OH NO!  Someone (I’m suspecting one of my college age sons) has put the WRONG key in the secret hiding place.  Another prayer, this one comes out a little bit sarcastic, “Really, Lord, You’re Funny.  Now, come on, let’s get it together and help me get into my house!”

After searching the garage, walking the circumference of the house, checking doors, I realize that I’m really in trouble here.  And I’m cold!  I find a goofy looking hat and a pair of leather gloves in the back of my car (now you can picture how wonderful I looked at this point!) and start praying in earnest.
 
I think about breaking in, work on the door with a screwdriver from my husband’s toolbox, but no go.  I re-walk the circumference of the house, checking windows, wondering which one, when broken, will be the least expensive to fix.  Back to the deck door.  “Yes,” I think, “This is the one!  I can break one of the little window panes, reach in, unlock the door, and, no problem, call the window guys to fix just that one little pane of glass.  Then, God breaks into my thoughts.  “Check the deck and gazebo again.”  Up I go, looking all around.  All I see are the grill tools.  Hmmmmm.  Maybe I can use the spatula to jimmy the door (you know, just like on TV!  Although I really haven’t seen a robber using a spatula, but you get the picture.)  And, one, two, three, (and one hour later) I’m in!

I thank my very humorous Lord.  “Thank you for making sure that I had on the warm vest.” (Usually I sneak out fast in just my pajamas. “Thank you for the hat and mittens in the back seat.” “Thank you for not letting me panic and worry.” “Thank you for helping me find the break-in device.” “And, finally, Lord, thank you for giving me today’s blog!”
 
Delight yourself also in the Lord, and He shall give you the desires of your heart. Commit your way to the Lord, trust also in Him, and He shall bring it to pass … Rest in the Lord, and wait patiently for Him … Psalm 37:4-7

Ghosts in Church

One of my first memories of knowing God was at Sacred Heart Catholic School and first grade.  I have great memories of walking across the playground each morning from the school to the church basement for our milk break.  For a little girl who really didn’t like plain milk, the second, oh so yummy choice of chocolate made each day a little brighter.  But, before we could get that chocolate milk, we needed to bring our milk money to school.  My mom would tie up our dimes and nickels into the corner of one of my dad’s clean white handkerchiefs.  Some of this change was for the milk, and the rest was for the collection plate at our morning church service.  The handkerchief, once knotted, resembled a little white ghost.  As I was a great entertainer even back then, I put on a play for all the other little girls with my little ghost “booooing” and “wooooing” and flying all around our little veil-covered heads.  The show ended very abruptly as Sr. Mary Ann Putchelli placed a firm hand on my shoulder, took away my little Casper and moved me into the boys section.  Boys and girls were separated back then (not sure what the nuns thought a group of first grade boys and girls were going to do during church!) but the embarrassment of having to sit by said boys was excruciating.  My face, bright red, (I was a blusher back then) was even redder as Sr. Mary Ann watched me very closely to make sure that I wasn’t going to start a new show for the boys.

Oh the many times that I’ve been stopped abruptly in my life and reminded that “now is not the time for this.”  I can be over zealous and under cautious as I entertain and laugh my way through the day.  And I am constantly reminded as I read, journal and pray that I need to be still and be present in order to hear my God’s voice.  It is only in the present that I will experience His Holy Presence.

Be still and know that I am God. Psalm 46.10

Starting the Journey

The very first time that I really truly believed in Jesus Christ as my savior was in eighth grade.  My English/homeroom teacher, Mr. Putbrese, required our class to read “Run Nicky Run,” a book about a New York City gang member who finds God and turns his life around.  Today it would be completely out of the question of whether a Christian book like this could be required reading in a public school.  And perhaps it was a big stretch from the recommended reading list for public schools in the 1970s.  I believe that Mr. Putbrese had very strong convictions about his faith and was willing to stretch the boundaries of recommended reading for his faith.  With his strong convictions, he was able to bring a very real and loving God and the precious son he sacrificed, Jesus, into the lives of this group of thirteen-year-old boys and girls. 

Flash forward 40 years.  I still have my copy of “Run Nicky Run.”  The back pages are filled with my doodling (which I’m still famous for, at least in my own mind) of cool looking crosses, a finger pointing straight up with the words “one way” written nearby, and in reference to something even better than Coke,  “Jesus Christ, He’s the Real Thing!”  From time to time, I re-read this book and remember the impact it had on my faith back then and still has on my faith today.  Tears still come to my eyes as I read about Nicky, a cold blooded murderer and leader of the toughest street gang in New York, as he drops to his knees, tears dripping down his face and declares his faith in our Lord.

Soon after I finished this book 40 years ago, I too found myself on my knees declaring my belief in Jesus Christ who was crucified for our sins.  This began my faith journey.

For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life. John 3:16

One Way

I am directionally challenged.  When I go into a restroom at a big arena, I enter from the right, and as I leave, I take another right.  My journey ends once I’ve completely circled the arena, wondering, “How did I get here?” until I finally find my section.  Finding my seat (“row 22, seat 4, or was it row 4, seat 22?”), is another challenge.

The signs were there.  The section numbers are clearly posted.  With my mind racing on many things at once, I ignored the signs and kept walking.

I’ve been lost many times when driving.  Again, I seem to drive aimlessly, circling my destination, unsure if where I am is where I really want to be.  Many years ago, while driving my “Peewee” aged son to a hockey game, I got lost.  We drove out into the country, circled our destination (I think) and the time got later and later.  Finally my son crawled into the back seat, began dressing for the game, silently sniffing and holding back tears.  I knew we would be late.  He knew we would be late.
 
Again, the signs were clearly posted.  I ignored the signs and insisted, “I’m sure it’s right up ahead.”

We arrived at the arena just in time for the third and last period of the game.  My son, now 22, has forgiven me; however, he declared right then and there, “From now on, you don’t drive to my games!” 

My faith journey has been much the same.  A series of directionally challenged movements, leading me toward God, away from God, and circling God as my mind races on so many different things. 

Now we all know that God hasn’t moved.  He is always there, close by, watching, listening, waiting.  He waits for us to follow His signs, follow His directions, follow His will, knowing that we will come to our destination if only we quiet our minds and LISTEN.

Everyone’s faith journey is different, but we all have the same goal, right?  Some may head straight for that goal, never twisting, never turning, and never looking back.  Unfortunately, I suspect that the majority of our faith journeys are less mapped out.  Many twists and turns, fits and starts, fast forward, reverse and even times of being completely lost.  The signs were there, clearly posted in God’s word.  There is ONE WAY and only ONE WAY.
 
Jesus told him, "I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one can come to the Father except through me." John 14.6