Promise me you’ll never leave. Promise you won’t tell. Promise to help me, no matter what. Promise you’ll never hurt me. Promise you won’t turn your back on me. Promise you’ll never give up on me. Promised me you’ll never forget.
Promises. We ask for and give them so easily. What does a promise mean to me? To you? Why are promises important?
For the last month I have been reading about promises kept, even at the most difficult times. About soldiers who risked their lives to save a woman who had earlier shielded them from the sword of her own countrymen. Not only did the soldiers save the woman, but they rescued her whole family as well. In the midst of a raging battle, the soldiers fought their way down city streets, back to her home, bringing her and her family to safety. They did this not because they loved her, not because they were a search and rescue team, not because they feared her. The soldiers rescued her because she asked them to and, in gratitude of her mercy toward them, they promised her they would. It was as simple as that.
I also read about a nation tricked into making a treaty with a neighboring village. The villagers claimed, rather convincingly, to be something they were not. The nation would never have entered into the treaty had they known the truth. Even still, when the national leaders discovered the deception, they honored the treaty. One day, a coalition of five enemy states attacked the village. Without hesitation, they called on the very nation they had deceived and pleaded for military support. As a man of his word, the national leader agreed. He then traveled with his entire army throughout the night until arriving at the village. The next morning, and for what seemed like days, they waged war on the invaders and successfully defended the villagers in perhaps their most difficult battle ever. Why? Because in allying themselves with the villagers, they had made a promise, of not only peace, but of unity.
Promises. What kind of promises have you made? Have you ever been tricked into making a promise? Or maybe you just feel like you didn’t get what you bargained for?
I read about another promise. The promise of a father. He was the father of the two soldiers and of the deceived national leader. The father had raised his children to be strong, faithful, compassionate, wise, loving, patient and honest – not because he told them to, but because he too was all those things. Their father had never made a promise he didn’t keep and he never would. In honor of their father, these sons did the same. A promise made was a promise kept.
For the last month or so, I have spent most (not all, but most) of my writing time deep in preparations for our summer play and camp. I have so much I want to write about that I’ve begun to envision the topics piling up before me like a stack of sweet pancakes just waiting to be devoured. But there is no time for self-indulgence, there is a script to be written! So, in an effort to be faithful to my blog and my commitments at the same time, I have combined the two.
By now, some of you recognize the soldiers, the woman, the leader, the villagers and the Father as characters from the book of Joshua, and our focus for this summer’s program. These last few days, as I think of the story of Joshua, I see a sweeping account of a Father’s faithfulness to his children and his determination to keep his promises, no matter what the cost. As a testimony to their Father, the children live with the same passionate, sacrificial integrity.
Do I take my promises and commitments seriously? Will I honor my commitments even when they fail to meet my expectations? Will I keep my promises, no matter the cost? Am I aware of how my faithfulness reflects on the Father who risked everything for me? The Father who promised He’ll never leave. Promised He won’t tell. Promised to help me, no matter what. Promised He’ll never hurt me. Promised He won’t turn His back on me. Promised to never give up on me. Promised me He’ll never forget. That’s a Father worth keeping promises for – am I willing? Are you?
Do you remember that Christmas present you always wanted but never got? I found mine while reverently flipping through the Sears Wish Book, eyes wide, excitement bubbling through my veins. I circled the picture over and over, practically cutting a hole through the paper with the tip of my pen. Then, when I showed my parents, they promptly informed me that a Barbie Dream House was not in the budget nor would it fit in our two bedroom apartment. Even after a letter to Santa and some earnest prayers, come Christmas day, among all the presents under the tree, there was no Barbie Dream House. So goes life. Sometimes, we ask for one thing and get another.
Most of the time, such disappointments are small and quickly forgotten. But at other times, they hurt. Imagine the child who wants a set of paints or a guitar but the parents keep buying soccer balls and shin guards. Might such a child wonder, “Do my parents even know me? Do they care at all?” A good and genuine gift – material or not – is one that says, “I know you and I love you. I know you and I love you.”
I think that’s why we’re often confused when we ask the Lord for one thing and He gives us something else. Doesn’t He know us through and through? Doesn’t He love us more than anyone ever could? Scripture tells us that God gives good gifts to his children – we just have to ask. Then why do we ask for work and find none? We ask for friends and are still alone? We ask for healing and death comes anyway? We ask for answers and are left with more questions? What then?
Lately, I have really wrestled with this. It’s not that I think He can’t hear me. I know He can. And it’s not even that He’s silent. In fact, He’s talking to me all the time. But sometimes I feel like we’re having two different conversations. I ask for an apple and He answers with an orange. I ask in English and He answers in…well…God language.
One particularly frustrating night, I picked up the book Beyond Opinion. After flipping to the chapter “The Role of Doubt and Persecution in Spiritual Transformation” by Stuart McAlister, I skeptically began reading. What? Doubt? Me? Never! To my surprise, I found some nuggets of truth, a new perspective, and it’s radically altering how I view the Lord and my relationship with Him.
Do you remember what happens between Moses and the Lord in Exodus 33? I consider it one of most beautiful moments in Biblical history. At first, the Lord, angry with the Israelites for their rebellion, tells Moses to take the people and go on without Him. Like a forsaken lover, the devastated Moses shamelessly protests; the Lord immediately and lovingly responds. With an almost palpable tenderness, they lay bare their hearts, declaring their love and devotion to one another. In that moment, raw with vulnerability and heavy with expectation, Moses realizes that nothing else will do but to know and be completely known. Boldly, confident of his lover’s love, Moses beckons to the Lord, “Now show me your glory.” Time almost seems to stand still.
With passion for His beloved, the Lord agrees…but there’s a twist. The Lord only allows Moses to see His back, lest Moses die. I don’t know about you, but I might have been disappointed, hurt or even angry. After such an intimate exchange, how could God not know what Moses really wanted? The usual, standard answer would be that the Lord was protecting Moses – and that’s true. The Lord did protect Moses and He did it with moving, powerful, symbolic, almost prophetic imagery of the coming Christ. (I could write a thousand paragraphs about that, but not today!) There is no doubt that the Lord was protecting Moses, but perhaps there’s even more to it than that.
What if what Stuart McAlister, Alister McGrath and Martin Luther believe is also true? That God was indeed showing Moses his glory because God’s glory is present even in “the back parts of God”. Perhaps Moses, and we alike, must be “forced to turn our eyes from contemplation of where we would like to see God revealed, and to turn them instead upon a place of which is not our own choosing, but which is given to us. We like to find God in the beauty of nature, in the brilliance of an inspired human work of art or in the depths of our own being – and instead, we must recognize that the sole authorized symbol of the Christian faith is a scene of dereliction and carnage.” (McGrath)
We want to see God’s glory….just so long as that glory is powerful, beautiful, awe inspiring…and safe. Yet the core of our faith rests on Jesus, who was humiliated, violently tortured, brutally murdered and abandoned by his Father; the same Father in whom we’re asked to put our trust. Are you willing to look at that God? Do you want to see all of Him?
God isn’t neat, tidy, predictable or tame. Just think of Jesus for a minute. He showed up in some unexpected ways, didn’t He? After entering the womb of a poor, unwed, teenage virgin, He was born amid scandal and worshiped by mystics and the dregs of society. He acted in some unexpected ways, too. The Israelites asked for a savior who would conquer their political enemies, bring national freedom, and raise Israel up to rule over all the earth, eternally. But the King of Kings preferred to socialize with outcasts and eventually submitted to humiliation, defeat and death on a cross. Through means no earthly soul could predict, the Lord attained complete victory, spiritual freedom and eternal life for all people who would receive it.
So, when you contemplate the miraculous work of the cross, do you, like me, see the Lord’s strength and glory prevailing in spite of Christ’s suffering, humiliation and defeat? I once envisioned Christ as somehow outside of it all. But He wasn’t…if anything, He was more present, more alive, more aware of His experiences than we who live with veiled hearts have ever been. Christ wasn’t victorious despite defeat. He was victorious in and through defeat. He wasn’t strong despite the appearance of weakness. No! He was strong in and through His weakness. And He wasn’t glorified despite his humiliation. Rather, He revealed His glory in and through humiliation. In the cross, and even in the manger, we find that “God reveals himself through a contrary form. It is the back of God, which is revealed – but it is God, and not another.” (McAlister)
Recently, while meditating on God’s glory as revealed through the degradation of the cross, I imagined Jesus there – beaten, broken, humiliated and hanging on a tree. He looked like any other brutally tortured, dying man – but He wasn’t any other man. He was God. All the power of the universe, wrapped up in the flesh of one man, and nailed to a cross. The Lord, the Mighty One, the Creator of Heaven and Earth, a picture of human weakness. Then this word came to mind: vulnerable.
In Jesus, the Lord Himself became vulnerable – vulnerable to all that mankind could throw at Him. And it was in and through that very vulnerability that He rescued a cursed creation. Sometimes the Lord reveals his power with a mighty arm, but at other times He places us, as He did Moses, on a Rock, hides us in the palm of His hand and then shows us a side of Himself we’ve never seen before. He does this because He, the Great I AM, longs for us to know Him…all of Him…even the back parts.
Suddenly, I am overcome, breathless at the thought that through some divine mystery, I might actually encounter the Lord inand through my weakness and suffering. That in those cold, dark places, if I watch with the eyes of my heart, the Lord will reveal Himself to me. That He and I, for a moment, might share even a thousandth of the intimacy experienced between the Lord and Moses.
Can I be that vulnerable? What do I need to do Lord? And I hear: “Give. Give. Give. Give, yourself to Me.” The Lord knows us and loves us. He gives us, always, the perfect gift: Himself. We may not always get what we expect, or even what we asked for, but we always get Him. And for once, I see the possibility, I long to respond and give Him the only gift I ever can: Me. All of me. Warm, expectant and trembling ever so slightly, I find myself whispering, “Lord, show me your glory.”
But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong. II Corinthians 12:9-10
But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong. I Corinthians 1:27
Confession: I love the new television drama Revenge. It’s a bit like eating a heaping plate of cheese covered, chili soaked, French fries…so delicious and yet so wrong. For those of you unfamiliar with the devilishly delicious show, it is basically a contemporary re-telling of The Count of Monte Cristo. And by contemporary I mean two things: 1) in a modern setting, where the main character is a woman and 2) NOT for children! Actually, in light of recent content, I am still determining if it is appropriate for me.
Oh, but there’s just something about watching a young, victimized woman exact revenge on her filthy rich, powerful and morally corrupt perpetrators, while posing as the beautiful, wealthy, sophisticated, girl-next-door. Who hasn’t dreamed of possessing such power, poise and endless resources? Even if just for a moment. The temptation to avenge oneself is forceful…it thrusts itself upon us when we least expect it. One minute I’m changing the radio station in my car and then I find myself devising scathing, witty comments with which to slay my enemy’s soul when next I see him.
Thankfully, such reveries are quickly interrupted by a harsh dose of reality upon remembering that I am not clever, cold or courageous enough to act on my imaginations; which, after all, is a good thing. Fear really does come in handy sometimes. Revenge, a nasty, violent affair, often inflicts its greatest wounds on the avenger.
The main character, Amanda (a.k.a. Emily) initially experiences great success in taking down some of her fringe enemies – those who are guilty by association. Yet, like a lioness closing in on her prey, she circles closer and closer toward her main targets, the people who destroyed her family. This made for especially entertaining television at first, as every Wednesday night Amanda skillfully destroyed another immoral, hypocritical elite…so much reward for so little time invested. That’s how they get you! I knew it was coming, the inevitable slow down. As expected, complications arose and now the story moves about as fast as a car stuck in mud…but it’s too late. I’m hooked!
However, for the first time we are beginning to see the cost of Amanda’s quest. Life rarely goes according to plan and even the resourceful “Emily” is not omnipotent. Revenge, we see, is a complicated, messy business. We find ourselves asking: What about Daniel, the man who’s fallen for Emily? Will he have to pay for the sins of his parents? What of Victoria, Daniel’s mother, and Amanda’s archenemy, who’s horrible actions are often the result of a lonely and desperate life? And what about Amanda, who Emily has locked away in a small, dark room of her heart? What happens to such a person, consumed by rage and obsessed with revenge? Can they ever know contentment again? Can they love? And if not, can they ever really live?
Revenge may not be the kind of show that inspires people (Well, let’s hope not anyway!) but it does raise some interesting questions. And for now, it holds my attention. Can it go on for years? My initial thought is “NO!” I want an end to this story and truth be told, if it goes on too long, I’ll probably lose interest. But a bitter heart can last a lifetime, and some people will wait forever to see someone “get what’s coming to them” even if only vicariously.
Do not repay anyone evil for evil. Be careful to do what is right in the eyes of everyone. If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone. Do not take revenge, my dear friends, but leave room for God’s wrath, for it is written: “It is mine to avenge; I will repay,” says the Lord. On the contrary: “If your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink. In doing this, you will heap burning coals on his head.” Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good. Romans 12:17-21
In our family, whenever we travel, Doug is what we call the “Cruise Director”. He books lodging and transportation, plans driving routes, makes sure the house is in vacation order and that the car is road ready. He just has a general command of the situation. This held true for our first official college drop off too…or so I thought.
For the most part, Doug is a pretty steady guy, not prone to emotional highs and lows (except for the usual Type A impatience, frustration and anger) and so sometimes I honestly forget that he has feelings. Terrible, right? I know. I know. Keep reading…you can mentally lecture me later. As we prepared to leave that morning for the school, Doug was his typical, high-intensity self, wishing everything had been done faster (we had plenty of time) and that we had packed less. (I’ll cut him some slack on this one – he is a man living with three women.) After spending an hour trying to fit everything in our four door sedan – which he did masterfully – he jumped in the front seat, turned the key and…nothing. The battery was dead. Why? Because he had left the radio, interior lights and GPS on the entire time he was packing the car (and my battery is kinda old). I bet some of you have already figured out where the jumper cables were. Of course! In the trunk, under about 30 pairs of shoes, 75 t-shirts and, well, everything else!
As he worked on digging out the cables and jumpstarting the car, I went inside to grab breakfast, which I suddenly had time to eat. Did I abandon him? Well, have you ever been around Doug when he’s in a hurry and something goes wrong? Best to give the man a little space. A couple minutes later, as I’m walking by the front door shoveling a spoonful of Cinnamon Toast Crunch into my mouth, I heard Jacquelyn say “Woa! Why is it smoking!?” Did I hear her right? Nah. Can’t be. She must be seeing things. Smoke? Silly girl. I was so confident in my cruise director, I just went about my business, enjoying my little breakfast time. When I went back outside, Doug explained that, yes indeed, the car had been smoking. Turns out that because my battery terminals were badly corroded, the red cap to the positive terminal was hidden, and the negative terminal was, for some crazy reason, painted red, Doug mistakenly reversed the charges. Doug. My Doug. Responsible, experienced, alert, cautious, has-jumpstarted-a-car-a-thousand-times Doug, reversed the charges. That is when I started to worry….maybe he is a bit addled after all.
Thankfully, the battery wasn’t damaged and, after Doug corrected the connections, we were able to recharge it. Finally, we were off! Now, this was far from our first drive to her school. Yet somehow, Doug managed to miss the exit. (Sure, I could say “we” missed the exit, but remember: I wasn’t really paying attention because my “cruise director” was supposed to have everything under control.) It’s no surprise that our GPS diverted us into downtown Boston which meant so much traffic and so many stoplights that our average speed was probably something like 12 mph. Show of hands: How many of you want to be trapped in a car with a man who has had the morning this guy’s had? Exactly!
Shortly after we got back on the highway, Christina pointed to our digital gas gauge which displays how many miles we have left before we run out of gas. Here’s what it looked like: O – yup. Zero. Zero miles left. There we were, on a highway jammed with August North Shore Weekenders, with virtually no gas in the tank. Trust me when I say that every one of us prayed so loudly and fervently you might have mistaken us for all for Pentecostals. (Not that there’s anything wrong with Pentacostals.) At the next exit, we sat through 3 red lights, staring at the gas station just across the street, fighting off visions of pushing a stalled car and desperately trying to will ourselves through the intersection. So close…so close. Come on, Light! Change! Change! Oh God, please, let us have enough gas. Please!
Well, praise God, we made it! And there was a Subway there too; so God provided gasoline and lunch. And from that point on our trip was fairly “normal”, if you can call anything our family does normal. We arrived at the school and moved all of Jacquelyn’s stuff up to her steamy room on the unairconditioned third floor. I’m not sure where Doug was but I helped get the maintenance people in to fix the broken beds and even had them bunk the beds for us. I could’ve waited for Doug, but by that point I had figured out that he was just, well, not himself. Better to leave it to the professionals. (And by “professionals”, I mean some college kids working maintenance.) Sometime later, Doug arrived with a refrigerator from a nearby Wal-Mart (is that where he was?) – one with a real freezer to fit the ever important pints of ice cream. What a guy! It will come as no surprise that he had to wait in the check-out line, with a dorm fridge, for over 20 minutes. It was just not his day.
After 4 hours of unpacking and organizing, we said good-bye to Jacquelyn and Emily (her roommate and friend from church), but only for the night. They were off to orientation meetings and we were off to find dinner. Do you find it odd that the school sent us off campus for dinner at 5 and then wanted us back at 7:30 for a dessert reception? Traffic was so horrendous that by the time we checked into our hotel and had dinner it was 8:00! We had our first dinner without Jacquelyn at Bertucci’s in Peabody. Sure, we’ve had dinner without her before…but this was official. Oh yeah, and we made a final run to Target for those last few items. Doug bought her a pink and black tool kit. Such a dad thing to do! But seriously, every girl should have her own tool kit. And, no, we never did make it back for the dessert reception. Man, school hadn’t even started and I was skipping already.
The next morning we were due on campus by 8:45 a.m. for an official welcome, after which we spent a very busy day taking care of business – bank accounts, job applications, etc. We closed the day with the school’s Commitment Ceremony and a speech wrought with all sorts of sentimental images – like the first time your child went off to school, or learned to ride a bike, or what it will be like to set the table with one less plate. My goodness…just stick a knife in my heart, why don’t ya? Was this guy trying to make us cry?
Saying good-bye was rough but Jacquelyn cried so hard that I couldn’t cry at all; I was just too worried about her. Doug didn’t cry either, but it was difficult for him to actually get in the car and drive. He stayed and watched her go until she walked completely out of his sight. Christina? She could have filled a bucket with her tears. As a reward for our long days and heavy hearts, we drove to Cape Ann to walk along the beach and then visited Rockport. We watched the sunset from a little cafe where we had dinner. We also bought Christina a sparkly butterfly ring and ice cream, which cheered her up sufficiently. And what about Doug? Well, after dinner and a coffee he drove us home. No dead batteries. No missed exits. No empty gas tanks. Just our very own cruise director back at the helm.
Tip #3 – Beware the Addled Dad – Just because your husband is all business about this college thing – you know, writing the checks, lamenting about how the payments are gonna destroy your retirement, making sure she has all her legal paperwork, setting up her bank account, buying her a hammer and an allen wrench – remember, that somewhere deep inside, this is shaking up his world, even if he doesn’t know it yet. I suspect this is even more true for dads of daughters. After all, it’s his job to protect his little girl, and now what’s he to do when she’s out from under his roof, living among strangers in a strange place? So be kind, be patient and be prepared. You never know when you might need to fix a broken bed, remind him to stop for gas or just squeeze his hand and tell him it’s all gonna be alright.
I knew it would be crazy – this last summer before college. Summer’s always a little crazy for us anyway. But this summer, with the shopping and paperwork and all of the “lasts” – the last visit with this friend, the last visit with that friend, the last sleepover with discipleship group, the last trip to Sonic, the last night watching Suits and Gilmore Girls, the last drive in her car, the last late night bedroom dance party, the last trip to Tulmeadow for ice cream, the last dinner with grandparents – this summer left me not only exhausted, but emotionally drained. And by drained, I mean sucked dry like an Oklahoma creekbed during the dustbowl. “Tired” doesn’t even begin to describe how I feel.
Looking back, however, I am so grateful for the last couple of weeks we had together. First, Jacquelyn stopped working two weeks before she left, in part so that she could be more available for Faith Quest, our church’s summer camp. I had mixed emotions about Faith Quest happening just a week before she left, but as one of the directors I had to be there; and in the end it was a blessing. As a family, we had little choice but to spend every night together and we ended up enjoying a shared experience. Then, each night we went home (usually after some McFlurry’s) and stayed up late talking….or making rice krispie treats and watching Rudolph the Red-Nose Reindeer. (No, I have no explanation for that.) In past years, Faith Quest has sometimes been a strain on our family, but this year I believe we had more joy than ever.
The last week before the big move, Doug and I both took some time off work and I tried to schedule work or personal errands during those hours when Jacquelyn was off having a “last” something with one of her friends. We were trying to protect our time as best we could. Of course, as often happens, my plans began to fall apart – particularly at work, where Murphy’s Law seemed to be in full force. I fought the urge to flip out or break down and just kept asking God for help, trusting him with the timing and making adjustments as necessary.
We were careful to protect the time we had set aside for dinners with grandparents, visits with neighbors and last minute shopping. I also made some of Jacquelyn’s favorite meals that week (Tomato Basil Pasta Salad, Chicken Fajitas and, of course, Potato Pancakes) and let her order out one night from her restaurant of choice – which ended up being potato pizza from one restaurant and fried pickles from another! Then, I found out that, on her own, she had decided to devote her last two days entirely to family and packing. She couldn’t have given me a nicer present.
During it all, I could feel our time together running out. In some ways, I felt alot like I did when I was pregnant: the time was coming, she needed to go, it was the right thing to do, but, man, was this gonna hurt! I described it to my mother as being on a train I couldn’t get off. I wanted to plan something special but not too sentimental and sad for our last night. After some prayers, a little divine inspiration and God’s good timing, I was able to arrange a suprise visit with our friends-that-are-like-family, the Davidsons, at Tulmeadow Farm. Jacquelyn knew we were having ice cream, but she didn’t expect to see her friends there…in fact, they had just flown back that day from a trip to Texas, so she wasn’t expecting to see them before she left for college at all! She was surprised and so happy. We enjoyed our ice cream and sat around talking and laughing until it was dark out. It was perfect.
We finished the night off by driving to Doug’s old childhood home in West Simsbury and letting the girls climb on the big rock on the cul-de-sac green, one of their favorite places to play when visiting their grandparents before they moved. On our way home, we drove around with the windows down, blaring our family songs and singing along. Last year, while on our cross country trip, the song Don’t Stop Believin’ by Journey kind of became our theme song (mostly due to the line “it goes on and on and on and on”) but since then, it has kind of stuck. We also listened to Party in the USA, The Gambler and Sweet Caroline. The good news is that the sun had set and we were moving, so noone could see us our hear us!
While driving along with my hand out the window in the wind, I suddenly felt like we were on our cross country trip again. I was instantly reminded of all those days and nights on the road together, of all the amazing things we saw and did together. Suddenly, I was filled with an overwhelming sense of gratitude. I’ll admit, I had fun driving around and singing in the car that night, but thank goodness the music was loud…that way noone noticed when I was too choked up to sing. “Come on, Nichole, it’s OK, enjoy these moments. Enjoy them,” I told myself.
We went home to some last minute packing, a little disco dance party in Jacquelyn’s room (um, without Doug, that is) and the new episode of Suits. I was amazed, utterly amazed, at the gift of time God had given us that night…that week…that summer…last summer…her whole life. What a joy it has been to have her with us these last 18 years. What a gift.
So Tip #2: Take, Make and Enjoy the Time – Time is a gift. Give yourself, your son or daughter and your family the gift of time. And when, like me, you find things falling apart all around you and can’t figure out how you are going to get everything done, say a prayer and let God, the creator and keeper of time, empty your days of what doesn’t matter and fill them with what is important.
So seriously, who’s idea was college anyway? Who ever thought: Gee, let’s take hundreds, if not thousands, of teenagers from the safety of their homes and put them all together in one place for months on end? Where was that guy’s level headed friends? (Yes, I am assuming it was a guy.) One would think that the mere mention of such an idea would have been enough to raise a red flag in the mind of most reasonable adults – or at least anyone who has ever raised, seen or been near a teenager. Common sense must have been out of town that day – or no
one envisioned co-ed college in the 21st century – and soon enough, places were being built to house the hoardes of maturing youngsters.
But what kind of place? Of course, it must one that is perpetually too small for them, that always has too little housing for its guests, and whatever rooms are available offer just a few feet more than than square footage to person ratios of Manila, Phillipines. As for the ratio of showers, toilets and sinks to a student…well, I’m pretty sure you can find more favorable numbers at your nearest prison. To top that off, these same students – the ones living like chickens on a Perdue farm – are then hired by the college to make and serve food in the cafeteria…to one another… Are you getting the picture? I have not even described all other manner of closeness that might occur on a campus full of young adults, but if we’re being real – and you know I like to be real – we can’t ignore the possibilities. All that (and trust me, I’ve barely scratched the surface) and it’s no wonder students must now recieve nearly enough vaccinations to gain them admittance into a third world country before any college will allow them to move in!
Oh, and did I mention, that all this can be yours for the low, low price of say….$40,000/year?
Photo by John Phelan
Wow. I’m not even sure what else to write about. That just sort of says it all doesn’t it? But no, there’s more. I never get off the hook that easy…and neither do you. I’ve just decided…seriously, like right now…to report our college initiation adventures, along with some tips for you moms and dads out there, in segments. Otherwise, this post will be way too long and neither you nor I really want to deal with that. Besides, I’m tired and I want to go to bed. So here’s your first tip:
Tip #1 ~ Don’t think about it too much. See how thinking gets me into trouble? If not, I have to wonder if you were paying any attention at all. Just read that first paragraph again! That is a glimpse into the brain of someone who thinks too much. What unhealthy wandering! And look, now I’ve subjected you to it. Goodness gracious – learn from me! Think less and PRAY MORE! Prayer – the solace of every parent who has finally realized she can not control her child’s life; and your best access to the One who can bring you peace, even if your daughter is living on Cheez-its, sleeping 4 hours a night and residing in the same building as 100 testosterone charged men. Yes, think less…PRAY MORE!
Each year our church holds a celebration to honor students graduating high school. Students and parents both get to speak. The following is what I wrote and shared.
One of my favorite memories of Jacquelyn is from when she was about 2 ½ years old. We were planting flowers – the kind that come in the little plastic six-packs. We separated the flowers from the little planters and then, one by one, we dunked them in water, planted ‘em in the ground, and then filled the holes back in with topsoil. I remember that she especially enjoyed that dunking-them-in-the-water part.
When we finished, I said, “OK! Time to clean up!” And right away, she got to cleaning up. I turned to pick up a few scattered garden tools and from behind me, I could hear her singing, “Clean up now! Clean up now!”
A few seconds later, I turned around and there she was, merrily singing along, pulling the flowers up out of the garden and placing them back in their little packages. “Clean up, now! Clean up, now!”
For those of you who know Jacquelyn, you can see that this story is so her. A concrete thinker, an obedient daughter and a diligent worker who aims to please. Jacquleyn, as your parents, absolutely nothing could change our love for you, but truth be told, you have made it really easy for us. You’re kind, compassionate, sentimental and an amazing big sister. You always look for the best in others and never want to leave anyone behind. While some say you appear quiet and standoffish at first, those who have the privilege of getting to know you will attest that you can out-talk and out-yell and out-laugh the best of them. One of my favorite things in life is to be with you, especially when we are tired, and laugh until we can barely breathe. And your love for others is so loyal and so passionate, that once a person has found their way into your heart, they can rest assured they have a friend for life.
As you have grown, it has been our joy to watch your desire to please us and do the right thing, transform into a desire to please and serve the Lord. As a teenager you faced significant challenges, and your faith and determination to cling to the Lord through it all has humbled and inspired us. We can only imagine what joy this brings Him and what a powerful witness it is to others.
That day when we were planting flowers together touches my heart for another reason which lies in the innocence of a 2 year old girl, who after an hour of digging, watering and planting, was ready to pack it all up and put it away. No regrets, no tears. For me, the planting was a means to an end. But for you, the planting was fun. It was like a game any two year old plays – building with blocks, playing in the sand, making play-dough sculptures – you played, you built, you created and you didn’t need a result or something to hold onto.
In the words of the great philosopher…and country music star…Martina McBride:
You can spend your whole life buildin’ something from nothin’
One storm can come and blow it all away, Build it anyway
You can chase a dream that seems so out of reach
And you know it might not ever come your way, Dream it anyway
You can love someone with all your heart, for all the right reasons
And in a moment they can choose to walk away, Love ‘em anyway
Jacquelyn, we are so excited to see what God has planned for your life. And we want to encourage you…. if God calls you to build, build. If He calls you to dream, dream. If He calls you to love, love. Whatever the Lord calls you to do, we pray that you do it with all your heart, demanding nothing from Him in return. Because for you, life is about one thing: being with God – wholeheartedly, passionately, completely with God. The results are up to Him. In this life, things may not always turn out like you expect them to…or some days fear may nearly paralyze you…but if the Lord calls you to do it, do it anyway. For you are His servant. He has chosen you and not rejected you. So do not fear, for He is with you; do not be dismayed, for He your God. He will strengthen you and help you; He will uphold you with His righteous right hand. (Isaiah 41:9-10)
Remember that, cling to the Lord and with that joyful faith of the little girl who once planted flowers for the sheer fun of it, leave rest up to Him. We Love You!
At first, I thought it strange that on the same night my 18 year old daughter went to her senior prom and my 11 year old daughter returned from her first overnight, school field trip, I found myself reading an old poem I wrote to my grandmother before she passed away. Then these words drifted through my mind: this is the long good-bye, somebody tell me why. I think these words, despite the rest of the song’s lyrics (The Long Goodbye by Brooks and Dunn) which are about a failing romantic relationship, speak to a timeless truth of life and loss.
I’m not sure when I first understood that my children are not really mine. I’ll admit, I am a little slow when it comes to the obvious. So while most of you probably knew early on that your children are gifts from God, entrusted to your care for a season, I naively assumed those moments would last forever. The mommy-hold-my-hand moments, the mommy-bake-cookies-with-me moments, the mommy-can-we-color moments, the mommy-your-my-whole-world-and-i-never-want-to-leave-you moments. Those moments. Do you remember them?
Tonight, as I watched my oldest drive away from me and toward a life that she lives almost entirely apart from me, I couldn’t help but remember that in a few short months she will leave for college. And while I rejoiced with my youngest that she conquered her fears of sleeping away from home, a familiar sadness settled in my soul. Here she goes…she’s on her way too.
A child’s primary goal is to leave her parents. From the very start, even in the womb, the main purpose of her development is to get out, get away, separate and live on her own, apart from me. The child who once shared my body, who was quite literally “bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh”, emerges, sits up, crawls, walks and then at last, runs. And while she returns at first for a steady hand, and later for a steady heart, those moments when I see her walking toward me grow further and further apart. She is going, she has always been going.
How is it that life should be so much about good-byes? You may say I am being extreme, but think on it for a moment. Can you name a person in your life that you will not, at one time or another, have to say good-bye to? We lose everyone unless they lose us first. Perhaps the Dread Pirate Roberts was not just spewing works soaked in bitterness when he said “Life is pain…anyone who says differently is selling something.” I believe he was expressing a timeless truth.
I’d like to take his words one step further and suggest that life is pain because life is loss. This is the long good-bye. I’m sure there are lots of philosophical and theological conversations we could have as to why but that is not my reason for writing this. I do not live as a person with no hope, no compass, no anchor. I know the way and I know the answer. But even in the light of eternal hope and glory, we walk in the shadow of death. I need not fear. But I hurt. Everyone hurts. Anyone who tells you otherwise is trying to sell you something. Don’t buy it.
Please don’t mistake me for a cynic! Rather, I like to consider myself a realist – a Christian realist, if you will. If we ignore the truths, even the truths of this world, how can we honestly interpret our reality? Even more so, how can we genuinely relate to others, especially those who don’t have the hope of Christ? There is great danger in minimizing life’s struggles or buying into the notion that as Christians we have to slap a smile on every situation.
So, my message to you (if I must have one) is that perhaps, rather than railing against the painful realities of life, rather than running from, ignoring or burying pain, rather than seeking revenge or retaliation, rather than raising our fists at God, we would be better served by deeply and honesetly accepting the truth that life, while filled with joy and daily miracles, is also fraught with loss, pain and suffering.
We waste so much energy denying reality and battling that which we can not change. Maybe instead we could let go and let the pain wash over us. Maybe we would find peace in Jesus’ words: “In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33) Maybe then we might see that God leaves no void he isn’t planning to fill. That all of the empty, aching caverns left behind by life’s losses, are potential reservoirs crying out to be filled by the only thing that will ever eternally satsify.
My grandparents didn’t live a flashy life. They grew up here in Connecticut – my grandpa helping his father on the railroad in Torrington, my grandma helping out on her parent’s farm in Granby and working tobacco in the summers. During high school they both lived in Granby and went to school in Simsbury. Neither really loved school and both remembered being treated as second class citizens because they were “Country Bumpkins” attending Simsbury schools. Some things never change.
One of grandma’s favorite memories – and my favorite stories to hear – was of her and her friends leaving school for their 30 minute lunch break. They started their break by lighting up a cigarette and then running from Simsbury High (which is now the Simsbury Police Station) to Doyle’s Drugstore, which was located in what is now the Apollo’s Restaurant plaza. The drugstore was also a soda shop and Grandma and her friends, after running half a mile smoking a cigarette, sat down at the counter and quickly scoffed down hot fudge sundaes for lunch. Then they ran all the way back to school, smoking one more cigarette before returning to class. Doesn’t that sound just like Grandma? As for Grandpa, he was apparently smartest guy in school with the highest IQ (he did marry Grandma after all) and if you ever get a look at his old photos, you will probably agree that he was the best looking guy there too!
My Grandma and Grandpa started dating when they were just 14 and Grandpa loved to tell the story of one of their dates in particular. On that night, Grandpa had brought Grandma back to the house in his car. It was very late and very dark out on those country roads with no street lights and this night must have been a cloudy one, because as he tells it, it was pitch black. Anyway, they apparently parked their car on the street near the house and, as Grandpa tells it, they fell asleep. A few hours later, well past Grandma’s curfew, they woke up to the voices of Grandma’s brothers and sisters calling out “Arlene! Arlene!” as they ran around the farm and street looking for her; only to find that she was right there, on the street in front of the house the whole time! It was so dark, noone ever saw the car.
Grandma and Grandpa married after Grandpa returned from serving in the Air Corps (I think that is what it was called back then). They married and bought a small home which they later sold because it couldn’t house their growing family. They would never own their own home again. They lived for many years in an old farmhouse at the base of High Meadow. Grandpa worked for the town and then for Hamilton Standard. He helped to build the suits for America’s astronauts and it is rumored that when the men of Apollo 13 were trying to find a way to survive on board their spaceship, Grandpa is the one who recommended they use duct tape to fix…well…whatever that thing was that needed fixing. If you’ve seen the movie, you know it was pretty important!
Grandma was a stay-at-home mom and housewife and ladies, it wasn’t like it is today. She had a washer and no dryer, even all winter long. Frozen underpants anyone? No disposable diapers. No microwave. She made three meals a day, every day for her whole family. No Subway, McDonald’s or delivery pizza and if there was a restaurant in town, they couldn’t afford to eat at it. No shower, just one bath and 4 teenagers. No heat in much of the house. A vacuum with no rug attachment…just the hose. And on top of all this, she had a garden – that they truly counted on for food – and farm animals to care for. Oh Grandma, you put me to shame!
They raised their children as best they knew how with the resources they had and as you know, they all turned out pretty great. Sometimes Grandma would lament about what she wished she had done differently ~ that she had read to them more or had not been so harsh. That is just what parents do, I guess. We always wish we could have loved our children better. Funny, now that they are gone, I wish I had loved them better. Anyway, while Grandma sometimes wished she had parented better, she and Grandpa never wished her kids had turned out better. They were both so proud of each of their children – who they had become, the trials they had endured and how they all seem to have come through it better in the end. They loved them to the very end with the care, angst and pride every parent feels for their children, no matter what their age.
In 1973 they had their first grandchildren, Brigette and me, and 10 more eventually followed. Grandma and Grandpa were, to me, more than Grandparents. Very early on, I lost my first father to what we will call a lack of maturity and then, when I was 12, I lost my second father, my step-father and Derek’s biological father, to a terrible disease. In some ways we lost him many years before he died. My mom did everything she could to keep us going, including working days at CG and waiting tables at night while pregnant with Derek. During those years, Grandma and Grandpa were our rocks in the middle of a stormy sea.To borrow from country singer Sara Evans: “My [Grandpa] he is grounded like the oak tree. My [Grandma] she is steady as the sun.” When everything else in life was uncertain, they were there – steady, dependable, faithful. My Grandma did laundry every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Lunch was at noon every day and dinner at 4:30. Grandpa went to work every day and came home each night in time for dinner. He didn’t go out with the guys or work endlessly to get ahead. He was there. I especially loved it when I would sit on his lap and hold his hands and pretend I was flying a plane. He would tell me “Pull up! Pull up!” or “Make it steady!” What fun for a little girl!
I know lots of people complain that their dads were never emotionally available, never talked to them much. Well, for someone like me, Grandpa’s just being there meant alot. Grandpa taught me that some men do come home every night, some men do stay, some men do love their wives forever.
I know they have touched the lives of so many people. For me and my brother, they were like the insulation of a house, keeping out the cold on a long winter night; the icing on the cake, holding everything together and sweet besides; the heart of our hearts and breath of our lives.
No, they never lived a flashy life. They never built a job from the ground up or owned a large home or made millions on a land investment or even owned more than one car at a time. But that wasn’t what made them great. The greatness of Tom and Arlene Creighton was in their day to day living, in the long haul, in their perseverance, dependability, steadiness, love and faithfulness. In the words of one of Grandma’s favorite authors, Jan Karon, they are a perfect example of “the extraordinary beauty of ordinary lives.” What they gave to me, to us, can never be measured or weighed. It is of infinite value and beyond what words can express. I will love them, we will love them, forever.
Our two days at the beach were fabulously relaxing and I have a renewed love for the Atlantic Ocean. We slept in(glorious!), had breakfast at 1:00 and walked the boardwalk. Then we returned to our hotel for a swim in our salt water pools! Throughout the entire trip Christina kept trying to make a whirlpool in just about every pool in which we swam. This was difficult because the pools were big and there were just four of us. Imagine her excitement when we found that the children’s pool housed a constantly moving whirlpool all its own! What a treat this was for her and us; we had so much fun!
Late that afternoon we walked along the ocean, played in the waves and buried Christina in the sand. For dinner we ate grinders from a local deli (yummy!); we brought them to Rita’s, ate at their tables and then ordered up some delicious custards and italian ice.
That night we tried to go for a swim in the indoor pool. Doug and Christina dipped their feet in its warm waters the night before and encouraged us all to go. Unforunately, the pool had been drained and refilled that morning and this time the pool was like ICE!!!! Christina was so sad, but I told her, “No worries! We’ll fill the jacuzzi!”
That cheered her up tremendously. Until we began filling the tub and found that the water was yellow. We all stood around the tub, staring into the water, bewildered. As the water level rose, the hue slowly deepened to a rusty green. I kid you not – our feet were in green water! Umm, had we been showering in that? Doug called the front desk and said these words exactly, “Trivia Question. What color is your water?” Without hesitation the man answered, “A brownish, greenish.” What?! He claimed that because of a drought they shipped in water and that, due to the containers, the water is tinted greenish brown. He also said that the water had been tested and is free from any dangerous chemicals or bacteria.
As we continued to fill the jacuzzi, the water turned a deeper shade of brown and eventually, we could not even see our feet. This is not a literary device of any kind – no hyperbole here – just brown water! Testing or no testing, we couldn’t take it anymore. We drained the tub, popped some popcorn, watched the end of Finding Nemo (to which we had all fallen asleep the night before) and tried to forget that this is the same water with which we brushed our teeth!
Our last day was spent swimming in the pools and walking along the shore at high tide. Even thought we all loved the hotel and beach, we were anxious to get home! Our drive back to CT was typical: heavy traffic in Jersey and toward the GW bridge. When traffic stood still, we exited and took the Tappanzee. On the other side of the bridge, our GPS tried to direct us to 95 via the Sawmill Parkway South. Doug nearly threw it out the window! We have learned that while the GPS handles most parts of the country very well, from Virginia to points north, the technological wonder seems a little confused. Maybe it was just tired!
We called a Chili’s in Milford when we were about 20 minutes away, ordered our dinner to go and ate in the car. (Still had some gift cards left!) As Hartford came into sight, I couldn’t help thinking that our little capital, all lit up at dusk, never looked so beautiful. We couldn’t avoid one final rest stop (someone had a lot to drink with dinner) at the McDonald’s on exit 37, and then we enjoyed an amazing light show as we drove north on 189. The giant black clouds hovering over Massachussettes flashed pink and gray with lightning every few seconds.
How strange and wonderful we felt driving into Tariffville. When the girls saw the signature cliffs along 189, just before the stoplight at the bottom of Elm St., they cheered! We pulled into our driveway with a well-lit walkway thanks to our solar powered lights! After 9456.4 miles, 32 days and 27 states we were finally home!
We were most excited to see our pets for the first time in a month! We were also welcomed by food and treats from my mom and a “Welcome Home” sign from our neighbors, Jay and Pam. We didn’t get here by clicking our heels three times, but no matter what, there is no place like home!
Lightning Bug 