Category Archives: Grace

Remembering Sacred Places

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I imagine that we all have idyllic places from our past that we hold dearly in ours hearts.  Scales Island in Lake of the Woods, Canada is one such place for me.  It was owned by my cousins’ grandpa, “Doc” Scales.  I have many fond memories of vacations spent there exploring the 5 acre island of wonders.  My first trip was when my father and mother flew me up there at just 11 days old in our single engine Beechcraft Bonanza.  The legend goes that Doc Scales held me the entire trip home since I was so young.  He was one of the physicians who gave me the motivation to pursue a medical career by his example of caring and compassion. In the years of my youth, It was a great gift to spend time with extended family out in nature’s glory.

As kids we had every inch of the island mapped out and named for its significant feature.  There was a small sandy area we used as a beach, a mossy log for relaxing and a wild blue berry patch where we could gather luscious berries for pancakes.  I happened to be the unlucky one who sat down on a sandy spot unaware that it was a giant ant hill. I don’t think I have ever stripped off a pair of pants any quicker than I did at that time to kill the numerous ants biting me under my clothes!  My cousins laughed about this for years.

One beautiful, sunny day while up at Scales Island in 1969, plans were made for my parents with my Uncle Chuck and Aunt Diane to go out on a sailboat owned by the Salvador’s who lived on a neighboring island.  The grandfathers, Doc and my grandpa Earl were planning to take the older grandchildren fishing.  This included my cousins Brad and Mona and myself.  My sister Beth and cousin Sheryl were judged to be too wild for fishing so they stayed on the island with Grandma Mazo and Grandma Rose Alta.

Everything was going well until we began to see dark clouds forming across the bay and the wind began to pick up.  We had seen the sailboat carrying our parents in the distance.  Suddenly we couldn’t see the bright white sail on the horizon any longer.  We realized that the sailboat had turned over in the harsh wind.  A decision was made by our grandfathers to travel to the sailboat to see if we could help the situation.  It took some time to motor across the bay to them since we were only in a small fishing boat.  Little did we know then but the sailboat had capsized and was completely upside down.  My Uncle Chuck was able to pull my Aunt Diane out from the cabin as the sailboat went over but my mother was trapped underneath. Luckily there was an air pocket left for her to breath since she tried several times to swim out but couldn’t because she became tangled in the ropes and sail.  Bill Salvador was able to swim under to bring her to safety while we were yet motoring to their aid.  When we arrived I remember seeing my dad sitting on the hull of the boat and my mom, Aunt Diane and Lucia Salvador trying to stay afloat in the cold Canadian lake water.  We were able to get my Aunt Diane into the boat and were attempting to come around to pick up my mom and Lucia when the boat was accidentally put in reverse.  My mom dove under the water to escape the propeller but Lucia was too close.  The thick Canadian sweater she wore caught in the boat’s propeller stopping the motor.  The men untangled her not knowing how badly she was injured and were able to get her into the boat.  We made our way back to Salvador’s island with heavy waves lapping up over the sides of the boat.  The air was sharp and brisk unlike the beautiful, warm morning earlier in the day.  My cousins and I were shaking from fear and the cold, too upset to even speak.  We were able to get our small vessel to the dock and Lucia into her home for Doc to examine her wounds.

As we waited for what seemed like an eternity, my cousin Mona and I walked outside holding onto each other while tears flowed down our cheeks.  We didn’t talk much but  prayers were being lifted up to heaven by our young hearts for Lucia’s wellbeing.  When we were told that Lucia’s sweater had saved her from any open wounds, we were greatly relieved. She had deep bruising under her skin but no more serious injuries! We were in a remote area, far from emergency medical care.  It would have been extremely difficult for Doc to treat her even with his medical expertise if she had had a serious back injury.  A miracle had happened before our eyes!

A seemingly inconsequential choice of whether to take a heavy sweater while sailing had made all the difference between life and possibly death that day.  I’ve often heard it said that coincidences are situations that appear to be random chance but are really God choosing not to make His presence known. Did I feel that this coincidence was random then or now?  Absolutely not!

In the Bible, it was customary for people to build an altar or monument at the spot where they had encountered God.  Jacob did this after he wrestled all night with God and prevailed.  His name was changed to Israel that day because he was a changed man.  When I have encountered God up close and personal, I may not build a physical altar to Him but a place of remembrance is set up in my heart.  The hand of God was with us that day long ago in the cold waters of Lake of the Woods, Canada. This will remain a sacred place in my heart forever.

 

Perfectly Known & Infinitely Significant

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During the height of the civil war in Liberia, my friend Shadrach and his sister, Mary fled over the border into the Ivory Coast to avoid the fighting. They were seeking refuge and a place to be able to finish their high school education.  The school they had attended at the Firestone Rubber Plantation was closed.  All the American businesses had left the country.  Their father’s source of income as a supervisor at Firestone was gone. Their only hope was an Operation Classroom school in Danane, Ivory Coast run by Methodist missionaries, Herbert and Mary Zigbuo.  They traveled there while in great danger as refugees. The Zigbuo’s took them in, treating them as their own children.  They were able to finish their high school education and met the Wagner’s from Indiana who were instrumental in both Shadrach and Mary eventually coming to the US for their college degrees.

It would have been easy for them to feel forgotten by God when running for their lives away from the gunfire and the bombings.  They were two of thousands of refugees leaving Liberia. At that time they did not know if the rest of their family were dead or alive.  Prayer was a part of their daily lives.  Their faith in a God who delivers was the only stability in a world that was crumbling around them. Little did Shadrach and Mary know then that God did see their plight and was setting circumstances up for their escape.  God knew them intimately as He knows each of us even before we were born.  A beautiful passage from Psalm 139 describes how we are known by God.

“You have searched me, Lord, and you know me.  You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar.  You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways.  Before a word is on my tongue you, Lord, know it completely.  You hem me in behind and before, and you lay your hand upon me.  Such knowledge is too wonderful for me…”

It is wonderful to realize we are intimately known in this way but it’s also a little scary.  God knows everything about me-EVERYTHING.  He knows not just the good and bad things I’ve done but He knows all my thoughts.  There is nothing I can hide from Him. No where I can go to escape Him.  This would be very scary if not for Grace.  God knows me better than I know myself yet He still loves me enough to sacrifice Himself so I can live with Him forever!

When Jesus was here in earthly form, He demonstrated on many occasions that He had the ability to know the thoughts and character of the people around Him.  After His baptism by John the Baptist, He called several to follow Him.  One of these soon to be disciples was Nathanael.  When Jesus saw Nathanael approaching, He said of him, “Here truly is an Israelite in whom there is no deceit.”  Nathanael asked, “How do you know me?”  Jesus answered, “I saw you while you were under the fig tree before Philip called you.” Nathanael was astonished that Jesus saw him and knew him before they had even met while he sat unaware under a fig tree.

Jesus sees us and knows us too in life’s ordinary situations long before we have ever met Him. God’s Prevenient Grace finds us under our own fig tree.  He seeks us and invites us to follow Him as Jesus invited His disciples long ago. He finds us in the mundane things of life. We might be washing the dishes or driving our kids to a ball game.  He finds us and comforts us in desperate times as He did with Shadrach and Mary when they were running for their lives.  They may have been discouraged and afraid but they never lost faith in the One who saves. Most of us will never experience the terror of a civil war but Jesus knows us and seeks us right where we are. He sees who we are but He also knows who we could become.  Shadrach was just another refugee but Jesus knew he could become a doctor and be a leader and example of hope for his people. As we ponder the magnitude of the world we live in, we may feel that we are insignificant. But in Jesus’ eyes, be assured that we are perfectly known and infinitely significant.

Speak Life

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In December, Tim and I had the opportunity to see Toby Mac in concert with two of our good friends, Kamia and Gary.  It was such a great evening listening to his band plus Mandisa, Brandon Heath and several other Christian music artists.  Toby Mac doesn’t perform your typical Christian music style since he tends to sing more hip hop and rap.  Nevertheless, his lyrics are deep and meaningful when you spend the time to listen to his message. One of his songs, “Speak Life”  particularly hits home with me. Hear his words…

“Lift your head a little higher, Spread the love like fire, Hope will fall like rain, When you speak life with the words you say.”

“Raise your thoughts a little higher, Use your words to inspire, Trouble falls like rain, When you speak life with the things you say.”

Words are powerful.  People are lifted up or torn down with words.  As kids we used to chant, “Sticks and stones can break my bones, but words can never hurt me.”  We all knew in our hearts that this wasn’t true.  Did we say it with the thought that somehow we could push away the pain inflicted by words? Jesus’ brother James compares the tongue to a fire. “How great a forest is set ablaze by such a small fire!”  Angry, hurtful words can destroy lives quicker than a forest fire.  But the converse is also true. Words used to inspire can set a life on fire for good. Even a few encouraging words can change the trajectory of a life forever.

My desire is to speak life affirming words but it’s so easy for words to spill out of my mouth without thought.  When I write I can edit my words numerous times before I publish them.  But when I speak, my editor often doesn’t catch the words before they are out.  Trying to take words back after they are spoken is like trying to put feathers back in a pillow once they are scattered to the wind. It is impossible.

Unfortunately it is often the people I know best that I have the most trouble giving these words of life.  We have too much history together.  I am sure when Peter asked Jesus how often we are to forgive, he wasn’t talking about forgiving strangers. A stranger wouldn’t often have the opportunity to wrong us more than once or twice.  If at all possible, we would stay away from them before they could wrong us again.  However, a family member has the opportunity to wrong us seven times seventy.  We are asked to forgive them every time. When we have a shared history of one wrong after another, it’s difficult to give them words of encouragement.  But in reality, these are the people who need them the most.

Speaking the truth in love can be one of the most arduous tasks.  How do you diplomatically relay that you don’t appreciate a family member’s behavior but you still love them?  We’re pretty good at accomplishing this with our kids but what if we need to have this conversation with one of the adults in our wider family circle?  I’ll admit that most times I chicken out. I’ll try to ignore the behavior or act like it didn’t happen but fume inside.  If I fume too long, then I blow up.  On the other hand, when I have taken the initiative to talk calmly with that person or if I have sat down and wrote to them how I felt, there was initial anger and denial on their part but in the long run the behavior lessened.  Our relationship was improved. But I had to continue showing them in other ways that I loved them.  In that manner, they could see that I did truly care enough to be honest with them and to stay in relationship with them.

Real love speaks life by expressing truth yet all the while affirming the worth of the person. The opposite of love is not hate.  It is indifference. I pray for the wisdom to know when and how to speak the tough words in love so that I may remain engaged in the difficult relationships in my life and not indifferent.

The Art of Letting Go

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For Christmas, my husband Tim received several nice sweaters and fleeces but he really has no room to fit these new things in his closet.  It really needs to be cleaned out but I’m not touching it.  He has some crazy looking sweaters in there that he can’t part with that I’m sure are from the 1980’s.  If I pulled them out of the closet and sent them to Goodwill or Red Bird Mission, I would be in trouble.  I will leave Fibber McGee’s closet alone for Tim to deal with when he’s ready.

The new year is a good time to sort through the items that we’re not using and give them to someone who needs them.  But many of us are hesitant to do so.  We think we just might use them someday or we have memories attached to the items that make it difficult to let go. We really need to clean out the clutter but we can’t or more correctly, won’t do it.

There is an art to letting go whether it be an item, an emotion or a bad memory.  We often hang on with tight fists even though the weight of them is dragging us down.  They are the baggage we carry with us through life. As we grow older, the baggage becomes heavier and unbearable if we won’t set some of it down.  The baggage becomes so much a part of us that it is frightening to be without it even when Jesus offers to take it for us.  “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” Most of us are attempting to carry our burdens alone.  If you join together with Jesus, as a team yoked together, He carries the greatest part of the burden.  Our part becomes much lighter.

Several years ago when I attended my Walk to Emmaus week-end as a “pilgrim”, my table was creating a skit to help describe what the grace of God really means.  I was elected to be Jesus in the skit and was garbed in one of our bed sheets as my costume.  The others in my group were supposed to give me their baggage.  We had our duffle bags labeled with various burdens:  Pain, Unforgiveness, Anger, Grief, to name a few. All went well until the last woman would not give me her bag.  The skit became too real for her since she carried heavy baggage of shame since she was a child.  I said everything I could think of to convince her to give me her bag.  We had agreed earlier that as Jesus I could not just take the bag from the others in the skit but they would need to freely give them to me.  Finally after what seemed like an eternity up in front of 90 other women on the Walk, she tearfully handed me her bag.  It was an emotionally powerful moment and I hope a turning point for her.  She had hung on to shame for so long that she defined herself by it.  I have not seen her since that week-end came to an end but I pray that she has been able to leave her baggage with Jesus for good.

What clutter do you need to clean out of your closet? What baggage to do you need to hand over to Jesus? As stated in the book of Hebrews, “…let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.  Let us fix our eyes upon Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith…”  Baggage such as unforgiveness and unresolved anger poisons our souls and sucks the joy right out of our lives.  Only by focusing on Jesus and handing over these burdens to Him, can we truly find the peace that transcends all understanding.

Lost Choices

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When we went to Ecuador with the Timmy Foundation (now Timmy Global Health) in 2000 on a medical mission trip, my daughter Rozie wanted to bring a young boy back home with us.  His name was Rene’ and he lived in the orphanage visited by our group during our time in Quito.  On our first work day, I had gone to shadow an Ecuadorean pediatrician at the Tierra Nueva Clinic in the south part of the city and my mom with Garrett and Rozie went to an orphanage run by the Daughters of Charity. This is the same order of Sisters who run St. Vincent Hospital in Indianapolis and this orphanage bore the same name. When we met up that evening for dinner at the retreat center that was our home for the week, the first words the kids said to me were, “Mom, you have to come with us tomorrow to the orphanage.  All the kids are sick!”  With a little rearranging of schedules, I was able to go with them the next day.  Our group was working with a classroom of 6 and 7 year olds.  Several of them were ill with coughs and more than a few had scabies.  We had brought with us a large collection of medications from the US so I was able the next day to bring back what each of the kids needed. I was glad to go to the orphanage even though this wasn’t on my original agenda.  I was able to help out a little, to love on the kids in the orphanage and to meet Rene’.

Rene’ was a handsome 6-year-old with soulful big brown eyes.  Rozie bonded with him the first day and they were buddies all week.  It was near the end of our stay that she asked me if we could adopt him from the orphanage.  We were told when we first came that by law the children in orphanages could only be adopted by Ecuadorean families.  So my answer to her had to be no.  The good-byes when we left the last day were tearful. Rozie was not the only one crying for many in our group had become close to the children in their care that week.  My friend, Scott who was one of the leaders of our group, had to tear himself away from a little boy who had been so ill with bronchitis earlier but was now improved greatly with antibiotics.  He asked me if I thought he would be ok.  Yes he would, but would we? It was so difficult for us to leave.

It was about 6 months later that Padre (Father) Jose’ Carollo, the priest who founded Tierra Nueva Clinic in South Quito, came to the US for a visit at Christmas.  Padre was a big bear of a man who loved to hug everyone around him.  We came to love him for who he was and what he had done over his lifetime for the poor in Quito.  Everywhere in Quito if the name of Padre Carollo was mentioned, doors would open in welcome.  He was like the Mother Theresa of Ecuador.  Padre did not speak English but the love of Jesus radiated from him.  He knew that some of us from our group had become very attached to the children in the St. Vincent Orphanage. Through interpretation by my friend Scott who speaks fluent Spanish, Padre said to me that he could help us get around the rule that the orphans could only be adopted by Ecuadorean parents.  He was so well thought of and had so much influence in Quito that I was sure he could help us adopt Rene’ if I gave the word to move forward.

Thoughts raced through my mind. What should I do?  It had only been a year since my marriage had dissolved.  I was basically a single mom to my 3 children.  Was it fair to them or to Rene’ to bring him into our family at this time?  My heart said that I should say no so he would have a chance to be adopted by an Ecuadorean family and stay in his own country. I thanked Padre for his offer of help but I told him no that day 13 years ago.

Many times I have wondered how Rene’ is doing and I have prayed for him often.  His picture with Rozie hung on our refrigerator for years.  I found out through Padre Carollo that all the children in his class were eventually adopted.  My hope was that a loving family found him and gave him opportunities to succeed in Ecuador. He would be 19 now!

We all have crossroads in our lives when a certain choice takes us down one path and not another.  Some are active choices and some we simply don’t choose.  Not choosing is a choice in itself.  In Andy Andrews’ book, “The Lost Choice” he explains this concept when he says, “You have been created with the ability to change the world.  Every single choice you make…every singe action you take…matters.  But remember, the converse is also true.  Every choice you do not make…every action you do not take…matters just as much!”  When I was given the choice to help Shadrach or not in 1993, I said yes.  This took me on a journey that changed my life and his forever.  The effect of this one decision rippled through my whole family and community.  The results have been dramatic.  I thank God for prompting me to take the risk to say yes even though it seemed a little crazy at the time. My life has been blessed beyond belief because of this one decision.

As we cross over into the new year this week,  it is an appropriate time to take an inventory of the choices we have made in the past year.  Whether we judge these choices to be good or bad, there is no doubt that they have made a difference in our lives and the lives of those in our circle of influence.  Many years ago I had the choice to pursue adopting a young boy from Ecuador.  I don’t know if I would even have been successful if I would have accepted help from Padre Carollo.  Was it the “right” choice to leave him in the orphanage to be adopted later by an Ecuadorean family?  I may never know the answer to this question this side of heaven.  This was a “Lost Choice” in that I can never go back to change that decision.  But I trust that my God answers prayers. And because of this trust, I know that Rene’ has always been held in the palm of God’s hand and he is right where He wants him to be.

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This story was written to honor the memory of Padre Jose’ Carollo who died in the mid 2000’s of cancer.  I feel fortunate to have met this friend of Jesus.  When in Ecuador I told Padre Carollo that I regretted not being able to share in the Eucharist during mass in his church since I am not catholic.  In response, he asked me, “Don’t we believe in the same God?”  “Yes,” I answered.  Next he said something I will never forget. “I will serve you the Eucharist.”  If more of us in the Church universal were as inclusive as Padre Carollo, our world would be transformed for Christ.  Thank you Padre for your Christ-like example.  Throughout your life, you were the hands and feet of Jesus.

 

Fearfully and Wonderfully Made

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When my kids were young, I found myself telling them that they could do or be anything they wanted if they worked hard enough to achieve their goal.  This is the American Dream, isn’t it?  As I have grown older (and I hope a little wiser with experience), I realize that what I told them was not absolutely true.  We all have certain talents and temperaments that give us the ability to achieve more easily in some areas and not in others.  I could no more be a concert pianist than fly to the moon.  I certainly appreciate beautiful music but I don’t have the aptitude to learn how to read musical notes.  For some folks music just naturally flows. Not me.  I studied both French and Spanish in school but barely can read texts from either language now. However, I have a friend who knows 4 languages fluently and picked up Italian because he was going to Italy for a wedding!  I envy greatly his ability to communicate in this way but regardless of how much effort I put into improving my fluency in French or Spanish, it could never match his level of expertise.  But put me in a medical clinic or a hospital and I am in my element.  I feel comfortable in that environment.  The thought of blood and needles doesn’t make me squeamish.  It’s like I was made for medicine.  It’s where I fit.

Each one of us is a unique, one-of-a-kind creation meant to fill a role to which we are specifically qualified.  We are as King David stated in Psalm 139, “fearfully and wonderfully made.”  God knows all the days set out for us before we were even born.  Through the prophet Jeremiah He says, ” I know the plans I have for you, plans to prosper you, not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”  We are all meant to glorify God in everything we do, even the most menial of tasks.  Brother Lawrence in his book, “Practicing the Presence of God” described how he honored God through cooking in the kitchen of his monastery.  This was his task, however insignificant it seemed.  He did it to the best of his ability for God’s glory through the end of his life. He was where God wanted him to be, doing what he was made to do.

Sometimes it can take what seems like an eternity to discover where we were meant to be and what we are to do with our lives. The talents that are hard-wired into us may seem elusive or non-existent.  My daughter, Anna has explored varied career paths over the years to find each time that she didn’t fit.  It was agonizing for her to start again along another avenue.  Photography has been her love through it all but it seemed to be more of a hobby than a career opportunity.  It wasn’t until she was encouraged by a good friend to look into studying visual design that everything began to fall into place.  It took a great deal of effort on her part but she was accepted into Herron School of Art in Indianapolis and is now a second semester Junior in their Visual Design program.  She has been able to join her artistic talent in photography with her computer expertise to create phenomenal design projects.  It is truly amazing how her skills have developed over the 2 1/2 years she has studied at Herron.  She has found herself in her art.  She was created for this.

Recently Anna has helped me redesign the cover for “Letters Out of Africa” in preparation to publish it as a paperback.  She has led me through the process of page layout and the selection of fonts.  I have given her feedback about what elements I feel need to be included to authentically represent the book content.  I think we make a good team. The result is amazing.  We’re not quite done but the finished product should be ready for bookshelves soon!

So when I have the opportunity to advise young people how they should go about deciding on a career path, I have rearranged what I say to them.  You can’t do just anything you desire but you are made to do something unique and beautiful.  God created each one of us with special talents that no one else has.  You must look deep within to discover where your dreams are leading you.  What skills just come naturally?  Do you have an artist’s way of seeing the world or the ear to hear the music of creation all around you?  Do you have the compassionate heart of a healer or the courage of a protector?  Could your gift of gab be turned into the skills needed for marketing a product or service?  One must look within to answer these questions but should also prayerfully use the observations and wisdom of others for guidance.

I always knew that Anna saw her world differently than the other kids.  Perhaps she was always visualizing it through the lens of a camera seeing form and shadows in a way others are not able.  Discovering this for herself took some time and heartache but now she’s on a path to becoming all she was created to be, fearfully and wonderfully made by God.

 

 

Love Came Down

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Of the many gifts given at Christmas, the one our heart truly longs to give and to receive is love.  In every wrapped package, I desire to show in some outward expression my love for family and friends.  Sometimes the manic pace of the holiday season gets in the way of love and  good intentions are replaced by impatience and frustration.  It is beneficial to step back, slow down and reflect on what gift was really given on that first Christmas.

There is an old hymn written in the mid 1800’s that is entitled, “Love Came Down On Christmas.”  God is described as love and Jesus’ entrance into the world embodied God’s expression of love for humanity.  There are many names given to Jesus:  wonderful counselor, mighty God, prince of peace, the lion of Judah, the bright morning star, the Word,  Emmanuel (God with us) are only a few.  All these names give us a little different picture of the many qualities of Jesus.  But doesn’t “Love” encompass them all?

A close inspection of the Gospels, reveals Jesus repeatedly loving people where they were.  He touched the untouchables, He dined with the despised, and He associated with sinners.  His mission was to love the lost and bring them back to God.  He didn’t come to condemn but to save.  His coming to earth in human form was a huge sacrifice in itself but to die for us was beyond belief.  God loves us that much.  He is love magnified to a level we really can’t comprehend.

During Jesus’ ministry on earth, the only people He chastised were those who judged others and put huge burdens on them of laws they couldn’t uphold.  The law was more important to them than love and this was counter to Jesus’ mission.  He had no kind words for the religious leaders of his day. He called them vipers and white washed tombs.  They were pretty on the outside but dead inside.  Jesus had a way of seeing right through external trappings to who a person really was inside.  This eventually lead to his crucifixion.

So how are we to respond to this gift of love that came down on Christmas?  Jesus’ command was to love one another as He loved us.  This is sacrificial love that knows no boundaries.  We are called to love the unlovable, to love people who think differently or act differently than ourselves.  We are to love sinners as Jesus loved them because if we are honest with ourselves we all fall in this category.  We are not called to judge others.  This is Jesus’ job, not ours. This doesn’t mean we don’t stand up for justice when needed. However, when we stand up for an issue, we must ask ourselves, “Am I lifting people up or tearing them down”  with my words?  Telling the truth in love can be a difficult task.  If we drive people away from Jesus by our words, then we need to consider if we should hold our words out of love. As directed in a quote attributed to St. Francis, “Preach the gospel at all times and if necessary use words.”  Our loving actions speak volumes more than our words ever will.

Jesus came down on Christmas as Love to show us how to love and to save us for love.  Let us carry on His mission to the world this Christmas in everything we do and say.

 

Near Misses

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Sunday afternoon my husband, my daughter Anna and I huddled together in our cellar with flashlights as we heard the low rumble of the tornado that skimmed by us just south of our house.  The sound lasted less than a minute but was distinctive.  When all seemed to be clear, we emerged from our shelter to find the house unscathed.  Only a few small limbs were down in the yard.  The tornado had missed us. Others were not so fortunate.  The cities of Lafayette and Kokomo were hit hard.  Luckily only property damage and no lives were lost.  But the devastation will takes months to repair and the emotional wounds, years to heal.

I’ve lived in the Midwest my whole life so I’m somewhat used to tornado drills but this was the closest I’ve ever come to one myself.  It was a “near miss.”  I’ve experienced numerous “near misses” over my lifetime.  The most harrowing involved another strong storm.  It was midnight when we heard a tremendously loud “crack” with a clap of thunder directly over us.  I knew immediately that we had been hit by lightning.  I looked all around the house but could not visibly see any damage.  After feeling satisfied that all was well, I went to bed. The following morning I just felt that something was wrong. My morning routine was usually to shower first then wake the kids for breakfast.  This morning however I first went down to the kitchen to check things out.  As I walked into the kitchen, I could hear a hissing sounds that was coming from the basement.  As soon as I opened the basement door I knew right away what it was. The smell of gas was strong.  I didn’t know it then but the lightning strike had ruptured the gas line as it entered the house.  The basement had filled with gas all night.  At that moment, all I knew was we had to get out of the house immediately.  I hastily woke the kids and we all walked the block down to my sister’s house in our pajamas with the dog in tow.

Shortly thereafter, the repairman from the gas company arrived and I met him in the driveway (still in my pj’s).  As we walked up the driveway, the gas indicator he carried started to sound.  He looked a little shocked and asked where the electric shut off was.  Luckily it was just in the side door to the garage and the gas shut off was just outside it.  When it was safe to re-enter the house, the repairman showed me the numerous holes in the gas line in the basement.  He said we were extremely lucky that the house did not blow up with the amount of gas that had collected.  If the water heater had started up it would have exploded!

If I had taken a shower first as I usually did, I probably wouldn’t be writing this today.  What was it or who was it that told me to go to the kitchen first?  It makes me shudder to think that the kids and I could have been gone in an instant.  Garrett looked at me afterward and said, “Mom, I guess God has more for us to do here.”  Yes, I guess He does!

A “near miss” like this and the close call with the tornado bring up so many questions I would like to ask God.  When tragedy strikes we ask “why me?”  But when it passes us by we ask, “why not me?”  I’m still here while others were not so fortunate.  I’m thankful and blessed certainly but is there something more You want me to do, Lord?

I don’t claim to understand God’s ways any more than anyone else.  There are mysteries that will not be answered until we are face to face with our Creator.  But I do believe that God is in control and His plan is perfect.  I can’t see it now but every struggle, every tragedy and every blessed “near miss” happens as a part of His great plan.  Anymore I don’t ask God “why” but I ask “what are You trying to reveal to me through this experience?”  Every step of the way, I am being refined with fire, purified as gold to remove all the impurities in my life.  This is a painful but necessary process.

As Thanksgiving is coming near, I am thankful for all the blessings I have been given.  The house not being destroyed by the tornado is good but when I really look at what is important, it is nothing.  Our relationships with people and with God are the only thing that matters when all else is gone.  Love alone remains.

Thank you Lord for Your love and all those I love and who love me here on earth and all those with you in heaven.  Amen!

Reminded of our humanity

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My daughter Anna and I were fortunate to see an advanced screening of “The Book Thief” earlier this week.  I would highly recommend it.  We laughed, we cried, and I forgot to bring tissues!  The movie is set in a German neighborhood in the midst of Hitler’s reign of terror during WWII and follows one family struggling to live day-to-day through the madness.  In one scene, Hans (papa) tries to defend the character of a jewish neighbor as he is being drug away by the Gestapo.  He tells them that he is a good man and he has known him his whole life.  Hans is forced to tell the Gestapo his name and is thrown to the ground, unable to stop them. Afterward he says to his wife as she is cleaning his wounds, “What did I do?  What did I do?.”  What she said in response cut to the heart of the issue.  “What you did was remind them of their humanity.” The German people had lost sight of their humanity through Hitler’s influence.  They bought into the lies that the Jews (and anyone not of the Aryan race) were to blame for their country’s woes. They forgot that these people not long before were trusted friends and neighbors.  The Germans who realized that all this was very wrong, were too afraid to speak up for fear of the same fate as the Jews.  The country as a whole was pulled into the insanity.  A few brave souls stood out like the German theologian, Dietrich Bonhoeffer. He could have stayed in America, out of harms way, but instead chose to return to Germany to help the Resistance effort.  He was part of a failed attempt to assassinate Hitler.  He died in a concentration camp 2 weeks before the end of the war.  His classic book, “The Cost of Discipleship” has a large readership yet today.  Did he imagine that the cost of discipleship would be his life when he wrote it?

Jesus was constantly reminding people of their humanity in many of his parables.  When asked by  a lawyer what he was to do to gain eternal life, Jesus asked him what was written in the law.  He answered that he should love the Lord, his God was all his soul, heart, mind and strength and love his neighbor as himself.  Jesus confirmed that he was correct and told him to do this and he would live. But the man then asked Jesus, “Who is my neighbor?”  Jesus never really answered his question but told him the story of the good Samaritan who helped a man injured by the side of the road after two other people considered “good” by their observance of the rules, passed him by.  Jesus turned the tables on the questioner by presenting a Samaritan who was despised by Jews as the hero in the story.  He then asked, “Who in the story was a neighbor to the injured man?”  The teacher of the law had to answer, “The one who showed him mercy.”  Jesus never said who our neighbor is but said that we should be a neighbor to anyone in need.  In other words, we should not judge who should be considered our neighbor because we are to be the neighbor. He told the lawyer, “Go and do likewise.”

It’s easy to pick and choose who we consider to be our neighbors.  Usually they are people who think and look just like us.  But if we had eyes to see like Jesus sees, we couldn’t help but see the humanity in everyone.  To do this we have to step out of the familiar to meet these neighbors who are different from ourselves where they are.  Most of us will never be asked to risk our lives to help a neighbor but would we step up to the task if such a situation arose? The people in Germany and the surrounding countries who did risk their lives hiding Jews were no different from you and me.  The family in “The Book Thief” was an ordinary family but they chose to hide a young Jewish man in their basement for 2 years. Their eyes could see the humanity of this brother and they could not turn their backs on him. In the Gospel of John, Jesus spoke of this kind of sacrifice, “…love one another as I have loved you.  No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.”  Jesus did this for us. Now the challenge is, with His strength, to go and do likewise.

 

 

Finding the Beauty in Sound

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I’m sitting out on the small porch of the cabin we have rented at Pine Mountain in Kentucky, drinking the last of my coffee and writing in my journal.  It’s peaceful and quiet but yet it’s not.  There’s a chipmunk making a racket around the corner and then it scurries along the edge of the porch out into the yard.  Nuts are falling out of a tree nearby and if I listen closely I can even hear the leaves coming down too.  The wind is soft but it’s helping them add to the layer already accumulating on the forest floor.  Autumn is well on its way in Appalachia and the birds are singing their last hurrah before their southward journey. Ah, the beauty of sound.

I envy those who know the bird calls and can call back in return.  It’s like learning another language and I’ve never been good at that.  Once I was on a bird hike at Pokagon State Park with an expert, Bud Starling, who at the time wrote for the Indianapolis Star. He pointed out a group of crows who were being noisy and commented that they were probably harassing a sleeping owl that had preyed on one of their young.  As I’m thinking, “How could you know this,” as if on cue, the owl appeared in broad daylight with the crows pursuing it.  What a sight!  I could not deny, the man knew the bird’s language.

Listening and really hearing is a lost art. I miss so much most of the time by hurrying too fast or filling up my days with too much.  I don’t pause to notice the beauty of sounds.  Not just music but the roar of the ocean, the gentle patter of rain on the roof at night, or the purr of a cat.  I dreamed last night that I needed to communicate with someone who could not hear but I didn’t know sign language.  I remember feeling like I should know this but didn’t.  During the Women of Faith event this summer, the women doing sign language were standing just below where our group was seated.  They were so expressive as they signed for the hearing impaired women there.  I found myself captivated watching them.  There was beauty in each motion as they poured themselves into their task.  Their grace-filled signs were no substitute however for the magnificent sounds the rest of us were able to hear that day.

That experience reinforced in me the need to appreciate the gift of hearing and to learn patience with those who are impaired in this way.  Both of my parents are having more and more trouble with their hearing as they get older and I find myself becoming frustrated with them.  In reality, I am sure they are more frustrated than I am. They miss so many of the sounds out of their range, it is difficult for them to communicate sometimes.  Given my family history, I very well may be in the same situation they are in a few years.    I need to put myself in their shoes to appreciate their need for my understanding.

Yes, I am thankful that my physical capability to hear is not impaired presently. But I find that I still miss many important sounds because I simply don’t listen.  Perhaps there is just too much background noise in my world so I am not tuned into the sounds I really need to hear.  I have external ears to hear the things of the outer world but I also have internal ears to hear the things of the spiritual world.  I find myself not fully using either. Perception and intuition are the ears of the heart. It’s often not what a person says but how they say it that tells their whole story. These are the heart sounds that are often overlooked, the true meaning behind the words hidden to most.  I pray that God will open my ears so I can hear all that He has for me to hear but especially these sounds of the heart.  I must take the time to truly listen for them.