Adventures of a First Year College Mom – Tip #2

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.

August 25, 2011 1

Adventures of a First Year College Mom

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?

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!

August 24, 2011 8

Trusting in God’s Goodness

You know that point in a movie, where two people fall in love but there is a secret between them? They look into each other’s eyes, he touches her face, she leans in for a kiss…but all the while someone is holding back. Even we, as an audience hold back too. As long as there’s something between them, the love relationship is incomplete. Usually it’s something silly, like the girl isn’t really a princess, or she is a princess and is pretending not to be. Or the guy isn’t really a superhero…or maybe he is a superhero posing as a clumsy reporter. Silly or not, there’s a morsel of reality in there somewhere. Because after all, in fact after the fall, there is always something between us.

When God first spoke creation into the world, including the universe, the earth, the animals and us, he pronounced it “good” – good because he created it, good because he made it so. But then after the fall, we became painfully aware that on our own, apart from God, we lack goodness and light. We are naked and ashamed. We deal with this painful awareness in a variety of ways. The first thing Adam and Eve did was cover themselves up and hide. Sound familiar? Maybe if I dress myself in good behavior and never let anyone see the real me, maybe then I’ll be OK. Or instead of hiding my sin, I’ll expose it to the world, thinking perhaps that if I can make my behavior culturally acceptable, then I won’t have to feel bad about it anymore. Or maybe I’ll just try to be the best at being “bad”.

A friend of mine recently loaned me the book, Give them Grace by Elyse M Fitzpatrick. In it, the author writes that before the fall, God bestowed on people a benediction, a blessing: “It is very good.” Since the fall, we have been consumed with trying to recover that “goodness”. Our striving for morality, power and success are merely attempts to bestow the blessing of goodness on ourselves. We even compete for it. I try to be better than you, and if I think you’re better than me, I’ll try to find ways to knock you down. Like Joseph and his brothers, for example: Joseph was a “good” boy, but his brothers were “bad”. When Daddy favored the “good” boy, what did the brothers do? Why they tried to kill him, of course. Sounds extreme but jealousy and anger and attempts to harm (whether physically or emotionally), those aren’t such foreign concepts, are they?

When and how will we ever be “good enough”? When can I come out of hiding? I’m tired of dressing up in morality, which weighs like a heavy coat in the summertime. I want to be free…to live, to love, to dream, to be me. But I will never truly be free as long as I am trusting in my own goodness…proving my own worth…or just trying to get through a day without every bit of goodness and light sinking into the black hole of shame that seems to reside deep inside my gut.

Trusting God’s goodness sounds simple at first: “God is good. All the time!” or “God works all things together for good.” Neat little packages that sum up all of life’s problems in seven words or less, no questions asked. Until the day comes when you can’t ignore the questions. Why did God allow my brothers to sell me as a slave? Why am I in prison for a crime I didn’t commit? Why are my parents divorcing? Why did God take my father from me? How can I keep my house when I’ve been out of work for a year? Why is there so much pain? And more and more pain? Then I find myself crying out, “Come on, God! You are the creative master of the universe. Surely you can find another, easier, better way to work it all out for good!”

So what does it mean to trust in God’s goodness? I don’t have all the answers…I may not even have any, but I will at least share my thoughts. First, and foremost, we trust in God’s goodness because we have no goodness of our own in which to trust. All my attempts at goodness will fail, and ultimately, the weight of dragging that morality around will wear me down, making me self-righteous and bitter. God’s goodness is my only hope.

Second, trusting in God’s goodness means recognizing, believing and accepting that everything he has ever created or done, he has intended for good, and that he is still in the process of working that all out …. for good. Before the fall, he called his creation good. And since the fall, all of history has told the beautiful, majestic, sweeping romance of his passionate love for humanity and his creative work to restore his creation to goodness. He loves his creation. He loves us. He longs to restore us to himself, to his goodness. If God’s intentions towards us and towards all of creation are good, and if his ultimate plans are good, then what questions are left to be asked?

Maybe life is a lot more like a Dickens’ novel than I previously thought. Think about how his novels begin….with all sorts of odd characters and subplots….so many, that after several chapters you read a name and think “Wait, who is this guy?” only to find out he’s already appeared twice, once 75 pages ago and once 120 pages ago…and you still aren’t sure how he’s related to the main character. As you trudge through chapter after chapter of seemingly unconnected story lines you find yourself asking, “What on earth am I reading? Will he ever get to the point? Is there a point, at all?!” And then, as the book nears its ending, Mr. Dickens, in his usual fashion, masterfully weaves each story line together into one beautiful masterpiece, so rich and warm and touching that you nearly find yourself standing atop a mountain shouting “Beautiful! Marvelous! Wonderful! Every word, every letter, every moment spent was worth this ending!” Well…that’s how I feel, anyway.

All of creation – past, present and future – is God’s novel, a love story that often masquerades as a mystery. Whether we like it or not, we are living, breathing characters in his story. We don’t always appreciate his style and we’re often confused, wondering about the meaning and importance of certain characters and events, questioning motive, conflict and purpose. We anxiously await the next event, anticipating all the possible outcomes. We laugh, we cry, we lament, we rejoice.

Unlike Dickens’ characters, though, we have free will. Even though God holds the pen, he invites us to write our story with him. Every day we face hundreds of choices, some big and some small. And somehow, those choices matter. The mysteries mount as we consider that God is not only the Author of Life, he is the main character! Add to that, the fact that he exists outside of time, and therefore, already knows the ending and we are nearly convinced that this is nothing more than a sensational mystery novel.

But wait, don’t give up! God’s novel truly is a divine love story. Right now, we are just living in the mucky middle of a long, complicated story, fraught with mystery and suspense, in which every detail – every jot and tittle, your choices and mine, good and bad – He, in his creative power, will work together for good. For his good. For my good. For your good. I know that you’re anxious and afraid, or bored or worn out or angry or hurt, but God is good and he loves you. He knows this is difficult for you. He entered the story and lived among the snarling weeds and creeping darkness. And in his mercy, He told you the ending, so that when the “night has been too lonely, and the road has been too long, and you think that love is only for the lucky and the strong” you could take hold of his promise that He has already overcome the world, remember that He has loved you with an everlasting love and look forward to that day when he takes you into his arms and wipes away every tear from your eyes.

If you know all this and believe all this, but you’re still holding something back, ask yourself why. (I pose these questions to us all – whether we’ve taken that first leap of faith or not – because we are, each of us, still in the middle of our story, his story.) Are you trying to hide something from the Author of Life? He already knows…and he loves you anyway. Have you shut the door of your heart because you fear being hurt again? That works for a while…until the cupboards go bare and your heart is starving and you’ll eat anything except that which really satisfies. Or are you believing a silly lie? After all, why else would the daughter or son of the King settle for a life wandering the streets, digging through people’s trash for food and sleeping on the cold, hard pavement? Your Father, the King of Kings, awaits you. In fact, he’s running toward you with his arms open wide, eyes sparkling, because after all, he’s got a party planned, a feast prepared and your name is written on his heart. No more wandering. No more settling for scraps. No more lies. No more holding back. You are the prince. You are the princess. Your superhero has come. Ridiculous? Nah. We all know that truth is crazier than fiction.

July 20, 2011 2

Joseph – Arrogant or Naïve? or perhaps more aptly titled… “Me? Naïve?”

As many of you know, I have spent the last 5 months studying and writing about Joseph, the son of Jacob, for Faith Quest, our church’s summer camp for kids. Each year, at the beginning of summer, our pastors begin teaching about the same character we will explore at Faith Quest. As I await the sermons, I vaccilate between joyful expectation and fearful anticipation. While I love to hear the pastors’ perspective, I also dread finding out I was wrong! Especially considering that, at this point, our script and curriculum are pretty much done…off to the printers…signed, sealed and delivered. During most sermons, you can find me furiously scribbing notes and practically holding my breath, hoping the pastors don’t drop a theological bomb that obliterates any premise on which our script is founded, because by now the teenage cast is already memorizing lines! All this after the script was already read and approved by one of the pastors. Wow…maybe I need a vacation.

Somehow, in the midst of all that Sunday morning mania, God speaks to me. The question from recent sermons that keeps coming back to me is: “Do I think Joseph is arrogant and prideful or naïve and innocent?” Well…can it be that both are true? Can’t naïve people also be arrogant, know-it-alls? I mean, seriously, why are they so naïve anyway? Could it be because they fail to see outside themselves and their own limited perspective?

The description of someone as naïve often presumes a sort of innocence, but I think this presumes too much. After all, none of us is really innocent and all of us are, on some level, selfish and prideful. Sure, there is the kind of naiveté of those who’ve never been exposed to certain sins, horrors, darkness and evil, but that is not the naiveté I am talking about. Nor is it the kind one could attribute to Joseph. He had been exposed to all sorts of evil and sin. There is no way he was unaware of his father’s, mothers’ or brothers’ rivalries, sin and jealousy – unless he was stupid, which he was not.

I think Joseph was naïve because, in a way, he chose to be so. In my studies, one of the commentators (at this moment I can not remember who or what book but it belonged to my pastor and I’ve since returned it to him) addressed this issue of Joseph’s naiveté very well. Here’s the jist or at least what I remember: Naïve people often go about their business oblivious to the effect they are having on others, or perhaps they see the effect, but don’t understand the cause or take the time to address it. This, however, does not lessen the effect or absolve the person from some level of responsibility. And no, being naïve about being naïve does not excuse you from being naïve.

So when I caught myself thinking, “Wow. Glad I’m not naïve,” I figured that was a red flag. And surprise, surprise! Guess who is a little naïve about being naïve?

I hear you asking me “However is it that you, Nichole, could be naïve? You are so well versed, experienced, wise and perceptive!” Ahahahhahaha! I make myself laugh! My goodness! It wasn’t until I was in my 30’s that I realized my grandmother’s warning to “never put your hand down the sink drain, even if the garbage disposal is off because there is a button inside it that could turn it on by accident” was a well-intentioned lie. You can imagine how hard my husband laughed when he broke the news and told me the truth!

You see, my first instinct is to take everyone at their word. Why, after all, would anyone say anything other than the truth? That last question may be the very reason I am not good at strategy games. I mean really – spending hours trying to figure out a way to trick someone or trying to anticipate how they are going to trick me? Oh honestly! I just don’t have what it takes for that kind of thinking.

But does this mean I am innocent? That I do no wrong? Or hurt others less than not-so-naïve people do? Of course not. It just means that I always get caught!!! Or more specifically, I lack ingenuity, sophistication and the ability to hide my emotions or beguile anyone. When I sin and hurt people, it’s simple, obvious and not very clever – but it’s still wrong.

In recent years, I have found myself in more than one of what we’ll call “working relationships” (that actually have nothing to do with my job) where I believe the people I was partnering with were, in some way or another and for some reason or another, threatened by me. “Ridiculous!” you say. And so did I. But again, isn’t that just naïve? Before I even knew I had stepped on a person’s toes, he or she was already biting mine off. A good friend warned me to never fight back and to see such people as “a threatened, cornered, fearful animal.” This was wise advice, though difficult to follow when said animal follows you down the street snapping at your heels until you are clear out of town!

My refusal to accept the fact that some people might be threatened by me only complicated matters. And while it may seem like humility, it was really nothing but naiveté or perhaps chosen ignorance. And maybe even a little bit of pride? Didn’t C.S. Lewis explain how some forms of warped humility are really just pride in disguise? And wasn’t I arrogant to think that I couldn’t possibly threaten anyone? After all I am so humble and just want to be loved. Yet, even if (and I say if) that were true, I am also strong-willed, forceful, determined and will gladly take the lead where others fail to do so. So do you think there’s the slightest chance that my actions might have, once or twice, conveyed the message “Hey lady, you’re not cutting it. I’ll take over from here.”? And, well, might that be exactly what I was thinking?

Arrogant. Prideful. Naïve. Joseph, I feel like I know you so well!

Joseph may not have been guilty of any intentional, well-planned, sophisticated sin, but I think he was guilty, as we all are, of thinking too much of himself and failing to see (or refusing to see) not only the effect of his actions, but the reality of the lives of those around him. Did he stop to think about the effect his coat or his dreams would have on his brothers? If not, why didn’t he? And if yes, then, goodness gracious, why did he act as he did? Just about anyone who reads the story is immediately struck by his lack of restraint. We find ourselves screaming silently at the pages, “Joseph, are you crazy? Are you stupid? Are you asking for trouble?” In my opinion, there is only one answer: in his pride he couldn’t resist and in his arrogance and naiveté he failed to foresee the results of his actions.

What an excellent word of caution to us. We must always and ever be looking to God for his wisdom and direction because on our own we are consumed and blinded by our very selves. Pride is insidious, seeping into and discoloring the fibers of our richly woven being. Even in our humility we may be arrogant. Even in our naivete we may be hurtful. But thankfully, God is with us, and His thoughts are higher than our thoughts and His ways better than our ways.

I think in God’s time, He has cleansed us once, for good. The work is finished. For eternity, we are clean. But here and now, inside of this dimension we call time, we are still in the process of being cleansed. Are you naive? Ask him to help you see clearly and be on the lookout for every mucky thing in your life; then the let the Lord wash it clean. He may need to scrub a little, or a lot, and sometimes it’ll hurt. But remember how soft the skin and sweet the smell of a baby just after a bath? Ahhhh…it’s worth it!

June 24, 2011 0

For Jacquelyn

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!

June 14, 2011 2

Life is Pain (Revised)

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.

May 16, 2011 9

A Palace in Prison

There’s all sorts of prisons, aren’t there? There’s the jails with barbed wire, armed guards, barred cells and the clamor of convicted felons. There’s the places where prisoners of war are isolated and tortured. There are work camps and slavery for the persecuted, imprisoned for their religion, beliefs or ethnicity, stripped of all dignity, starved, beaten and forced to do labor their weakened bodies can barely endure. These are the prisons with walls and gates and guards and masters.

But there are other prisons too, where the walls are not so easy to see. Where one knows the gate is locked but she can’t find the door. Where the torturers are people or memories or hurts he can’t escape, the walls are circumstances she can’t change, and the clamor is the voices in his head that tell him “this is all there is”, that tell her “hope is hopeless.” And there’s the prisons of our own doing…the things that isolate our hearts…pride, selfishness, unforgiveness, arrogance, control…I could go on.

Lately, I’ve been studying the book of Genesis – mostly the life of Joseph, son of Jacob. He was familiar with all sorts of prisons: brothers who hated him, the pit they cast him into, slavery into which they sold him, an Egyptian jail for a crime he did not commit, the constant demands of his eventual high position in a country that tempted him daily with its worldliness. These are the prisons Joseph knew.

As I study, I also find myself taking special notice of Judah, for it is through his line that the messiah, Jesus comes. It is not through Joseph, Jacob’s favored son. Rather, Jesus comes through Judah, a broken and blatantly sinful man.

Judah was the son of Leah, the less-loved wife, the wife who wasn’t favored. And so he also was a less-loved son. As an adult, Judah carried the guilt of selling Joseph into slavery then deceiving and bringing suffering upon his father. He lost his first two sons, his wife and then unwittingly impregnated his bereaved daughter-in-law from whom he had unjustly kept his third son. Judah had a few prisons of his own.

One difference in these two brothers is that Joseph, whether caught in the web of his brothers’ hatred, held captive as a slave or serving time in a dungeon, was, in his spirit, a free man. We can see it in his devotion and loyalty to the Lord and the people he served, his integrity, diligence, kindness, grace, mercy and complete trust in God’s plan and goodness. Joseph is not imprisoned by his circumstances or his emotions. He seems to know a wonderful truth: that the walls that hold his body in can not crush his spirit.

Eventually, toward the end of Genesis we see a transformed Judah, who offers his own life to save the life of his brother Benjamin and to prevent his father from enduring any further suffering. We see a Judah who is free from selfishness, envy and bitterness, freed because his concern for another finally outweighs his concern for himself. He looks physical captivity, slavery and even death in the eye and seems to say, “I’ve known greater prisons than you!”

So what about you and me? What kind of prisons are we living in? Are you stuck in a job you hate? Do you feel trapped in family wrought with bitterness and distrust? Is your body giving out on you? Maybe your depressed. Or lonely. Anxious about money. Is someone you love hurting and you feel helpless? Or perhaps you’re wondering how you’ll ever say good-bye to your first child as they head off to college?

Then there’s the spiritual prisons. In one way or another we are all in danger of being trapped by our decisions to put other things before God. I find myself asking: What do I trust more…my ability to earn a salary or God’s faithfulness to provide? What do I work for more, the approval of people or God’s approval? How do I know I am valuable, because others say so or because God says so?

Through the study of Joseph and some great conversation with our couples small group, I realized, in a new way, that even when I feel trapped, my spirit is free. Free to worship the Lord, free to do what is right, free to serve and love and dance and pray. Surely this is not something we can do on our own…but with God all things are possible.

A couple of months ago I was thinking about my “pit” (see The Pits) and wondering about God…why is he so willing to enter my pit…to reside there with me. Then He gave me a sort of picture: I saw Jesus climbing down into my dark, dirty pit. He was surrounded by earthen walls with bugs, cobwebs, plant roots…you name it…but nothing He touched made Him dirty. He was light and golden and perfectly clean. Why? Then a word popped into my mind “Incorruptible.” Jesus in incorruptible. God can be with us in our prisons and remain unchanged, pure and good. The God that rules over all of heaven is the very same God that meets you in your pit. He doesn’t shrink himself for you or compromise his God-ness. Even when He took on our sin his life was pure. And whatever situation we are in, His life – his incorruptible life – that well of grace, mercy, strength, courage, joy and peace – is available to us.

There are many books and sermons and essays written about Joseph’s life with titles like: “From the Pit to the Palace” or “Prison to Palace”. But that’s no longer how I see it. No. Joseph didn’t leave the pit for the palace. The palace was in the pit with Joseph all along. “The Lord was with Joseph,” Genesis 39:2. Every day, in all situations, Joseph’s heart knelt before the throne of the Lord. And he was free.

March 30, 2011 6

Dragon Suit

Lately, our pastor has been talking about the Frog Prince. He’s been telling us that we are all frog princes and princesses, but we have been kissed by our Savior and redeemed from the swamp. When we exhibit selfishness, pride, self-righteousness – any sin really -it is as if we are crawling back to the swamp and trying to climb back into our slimy frog suits. Well, I don’t know about you, but my suit of shame looks a lot more like the thick, tough, scaly skin of a fire-breathing dragon.

In one of my favorite books, C.S. Lewis’s The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, Eustace, a whiny, selfish, arrogant, greedy, lazy and altogether annoying boy, unknowingly seeks refuge from a storm in a dragon’s lair. The sight of the dragon’s gold, silver, jewels and other spoils, immediately fuels Eustace’s pride, sparking his lust for possessions, position and power. He soon slips a piece of the dragon’s hoard on his arm, puts some diamonds in his pocket and impatiently waits for the storm to cease. Then he drifts off to sleep, having no understanding whatsoever of the danger of sleeping in the home of a dragon.

Shortly after waking, Eustace realizes his mistake. He was most certainly in danger, but not as you may think. You see, the dragon of that lair had died a sad and lonely death earlier that day. Instead of suffering a dragon’s assault, Eustace wakes to find he has become the dragon. “Sleeping on a dragon’s hoard with greedy, dragonish thoughts in his heart, he had become a dragon himself.” (p.97) A horrible but merciful result. He was consumed, though not eaten, crippled but not destroyed.

For days Eustace suffers in fear and loneliness, is humbled by his own hideous form and eventually is completely changed by the kindness shown to him by those he previously despised and treated so terribly. Eustace comes to know his own weaknesses, see his own faults, feel his need for companionship and eventually, learns to put others before himself. It is after this internal transformation occurs that Aslan appears visibly to Eustace. And it is then that Aslan, with Eustace’s permission, does what Eustace could not do for himself. He digs his claws deep into Eustace’s thick dragon flesh and tears if off, then he throws him into a spring of healing waters, dresses him in new clothes and frees him to a new life. As Lewis writes, “The cure had begun.” (p. 104)

What an ordeal? After he is healed and free, can you ever imagine him wanting to put on that dragon suit again? Of course not. But I do it all the time.

A few weeks ago I had a brief encounter with someone* with whom I have unresolved conflict. After the initial conflict, many, many months ago, I sought reconciliation, confessed, asked forgiveness, and, like a good, little Christian girl, attempted acts of grace and service toward her, after all of which I thought “And now we move on!” Well, not exactly…because every volley has two sides and she isn’t playing.

Technically speaking, I did all the right things. I did my best to obey God and follow the formula, and I truly believe that, at least at first, my heart was in the right place. What did I get in return? No forgiveness. No apology for her part in the conflict. And, because I cannot completely remove myself from her circle of influence, I continue to be hurt both directly and indirectly. So now what? Well, you know the answer…I must persevere, return evil with good, forgive seven times seventy. I must have the humility and long-suffering of Christ. OK God! Yes! I can and I will!

Um….just so long as I never have to talk to her again.

Doesn’t that sound like a heart full of grace? Of course, that was not a conscious thought, but apparently that little, self-righteous qualifier lurked somewhere deep inside me. You see, I thought I had it all under control – then I had to talk to her. It seems that every time I see her, hear her voice, try to have a conversation with her – let’s be honest, at the mere mention of her name – little green scales emerge all over my skin. Tell-tale streams of smoke rise past my eyes from out of my nostrils. I feel the heat from a lick of flame on my lip and quickly clap my hands over my mouth. But to no avail! Before I know it, I’m breathing fire, burning up everything in my path, devastating the landscape and, in the process, singeing my own eyebrows! So now….I could be wrong…(feel free to challenge me!)…but that doesn’t quite sound like forgiveness to me.

For some time, I, like Eustace, was ignorant, blinded to my own form. Until that fateful day a few weeks ago. One encounter. One brief encounter.

Now ours was (at least for me) a difficult conversation about the practical logistics of a concrete matter carrying emotional weight. I chose my words carefully for all of it, saying hard things that needed to be said as succinctly as possible. Then, during our short-lived exchange, something she said struck a certain nerve…a prideful nerve, no doubt. And there it was: The Moment. I had a choice. A moment of pause. A moment to decide how to respond. A moment that would later, in the hands of God, serve as a mirror to my heart.

Perhaps the worst part is that I didn’t lash out in an uncontrollable, emotion-fueled rage. At least that would seem like an unintentional mistake. No. I stopped and thought about it. I chose my words carefully, considering the tone, effect and consequence. I didn’t spew fire like a wild mythical creature. Rather, I burned with the steady aim of a surgical strike. So masterful, I thought I was. For a second, I was satisfied, relieved even, at having finally made myself known. “Take that!” my attitude told her, “Ha! No more of you walking all over me!”

In another part of Dawn Treader, Eustace-the-dragon, before he even understands what he’s doing, ravenously eats the carcass of the dragon that died earlier that day. It is an ugly scene, but as Lewis points out “though his mind was the mind of Eustace, his tastes and his digestion were dragonish. And there is nothing a dragon likes so well, as fresh dragon.” (p. 100) And so it was with me, the formerly caring, concerned, compassionate, forgiving, long-suffering child of Christ, now just a hideous dragon feasting upon the flesh of another dragon!

Though I don’t wish this experience on another, I imagine there is quite possibly a recovering dragon or two in my reading audience. Those of you will understand what happened next. For starters, my stomach churned and my body ached. Everything about me felt wrong. Then, just like he was lifting up a mirror to my heart, the Lord brought The Moment before my eyes again and again. The first time I noticed that I was a little rough. The next that perhaps I was a bit beastly. Then, eventually, that I had indeed, with dragonish thoughts in my heart and mind, become like the dragon.

How did I let myself get here again? Oh Lord, I’m sorry! Take it off, take this dragon suit off me! And so, again, I endure the pain of confession and repentance so that I can be stripped and freed from that scaly skin, healed by the waters of life and dressed in new clothes, clothes suitable for a God’s child.

Looking back now, I see not only how damaging, but also how ridiculous my actions were. You can imagine that as someone who considers herself a writer must feel, when the Lord reveals to her how ridiculous, immature, pathetic and even nonsensical were the “carefully” chosen words of her “surgical strike.” They were words of nothingness, word fit only, perhaps, for the great debates of jr. high bathrooms across America. Oh, for heaven’s sake, it’s actually embarrassing!

After much prayer, reflection and thought on this matter, God is revealing to me new things about myself and this particular, as of yet, unreconciled relationship. Forgiveness is difficult; in fact, true forgiveness may be impossible without the presence of God’s grace in our own lives and the power of his Spirit in us to do the forgiving. Forgiveness is especially difficult when we are not accepted; and even more difficult when the hurts keep coming. Yet this is the very heart of Christ – to forgive in the face of sin and pain, to love even when despised and rejected. And now, I don’t fret over which words to choose. Only two words will do: God, help!

I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit within you; I will remove the heart of stone from your flesh and give you a heart of flesh. Ezekiel 36:26

*Dear readers, this letter is not about you or someone on whom I am seeking revenge. First and foremost, it is about me and God. Second, I believe the information is general enough to protect her identity. Third, the unnamed person included in this post is someone I have minimal contact with and is likely to never see or even stumble upon these pages. If she does, I pray she hears my heart and understands. If, for some reason, you think it’s you, call me. Love~Nichole

March 7, 2011 4

The Pits ~ A Christmas Message

Have you ever been in a cave or a deep pit? I can’t stand the thought of it! On our cross country road trip this summer, I refused to visit cave locations. I loved the mountain tops, the canyons, even the valleys, but caves? Underground? Dark? Damp? Probably bugs and bats and who know what else? No thanks! Just watching the story of the trapped Chilean miners unfold on television pained me. Whenever the reporter opened her mouth, I could feel the air being sucked out of my lungs. “It’s been 2 days.” Two days! I would think. Then it was 4 days, 24 days, 40 days. When would it end?

For a girl who avoids dark, confining spaces, I sure spend a lot of time in the pits – emotional pits, psychological pits, spiritual pits. Have you ever been in a pit like that? Where you just couldn’t seem to feel good about anything? Maybe you were hurt – so hurt you couldn’t imagine ever being happy again. Perhaps bitterness was eating away at your heart. Or was your soul shackled to a need for revenge? Maybe you were wandering in a fog of doubt, lost sight of who you were and couldn’t remember the point of this life anyway.

A few months ago, when I was in a really ugly place, at the urging of a good friend, I spent several hours praying about my “pit”. Now I could make this a really long letter and tell you all about the deep, psychological revelations, spiritual implications, and sometimes bizarre conversations I had with the Lord and myself that night, but neither you nor I are ready for that. Instead I will share what I think is the single, most pivotal moment in my prayer time that night. As I prayed, I asked the Lord, “But how can I ever get out of this pit? You say I have to want to get out but I don’t know if I want to get out. Can you make me want it? And even if I want to get out, then what? I’m trapped. What do I do?” A moment later, almost clear as day, (though not audibly like a person), I heard the Lord gently say, “Invite me into the pit with you.” Even as I write this, tears well up in my eyes. “Invite me into the pit with you,” he says.

Who is this God who offers to come into our pit with us? The great I AM, the Lord Almighty, the King of kings, says to me, a selfish, petulant child, “Invite me into the pit with you.” That was exactly what I needed to hear that night. The pit is too deep, the walls too steep, the earth too hard, the way too dark. I can never get out on my own. Yet, I do not have to be in this alone.

During my prayer, I looked up at the television (which had been muted) and what was on? Nothing other than the Chilean miners being rescued, one by one, from a pit 2014 feet below ground. After 69 days – 69 days! -of waiting, hoping and praying, they were finally being saved. For weeks they had been fed, medicated as necessary and monitored for emotional and psychological well-being. For over two months, teams of people around the world worked to create a mechanism by which the men could be freed from the mines. Now, finally, the whole world watched as, one at a time, the miners rode the small capsule to freedom. I, like you, was elated and overcome with joy for these men and their families.

The next day, I watched as the last miner was pulled out of the earth. I turned up the volume and heard the reporter say that there was still someone to be freed. What? I thought the last miner was just rescued! I turned up the volume some more. Turns out, the miners hadn’t climbed into the capsule on their own like I had thought. Silly me. Rescuers, themselves, entered the capsule first and willingly rode it deep down into the earth to help save the trapped men. The last man out of the mines was a rescuer. He sacrificed the sunlight and security above to go down into the pit with them; and he didn’t leave until every last man was saved.

It was no accident that God timed my prayers to coincide with this historic rescue. What a beautiful expression of his love. “Look, Nichole. This is a picture of me,” he said, “I have come down to you and I am not leaving you behind.”

Now this is a Christmas letter, after all, and so I will go ahead and write what many of you are already thinking: Isn’t that what Christmas is all about? The Lord of lords, the King of kings, the Almighty God, the great I AM, stepped out of heaven and into a manger. He left his place on high and came down into the pit with us. The Alpha and Omega left behind the goodness, light, glory and perfection of heaven for this fallen world, in order to become our Prince of Peace. The Creator of all things took the form of his creation and lived not only in the pit of humanity but as the pit that is humanity. And he didn’t leave until he completed his mission: that by his sacrifice every last person could be saved. The Lion became the Lamb. That is the gift of Christmas: Jesus.

If and when you find yourself in a “pit” of your own, whether it is today or tomorrow or next week or next year, I encourage you to invite Jesus down into that dark place with you. And remember, you don’t have to wait until things are really bad. He’s always there, waiting to be invited in.

Merry Christmas!!!

Though you have made me see troubles, many and bitter, you will restore my life again; from the depths of the earth, you will again bring me up. Psalm 71:20

December 21, 2010 2

People and a Little Prose

This is one of my favorite pics of Yellowstone. Taken by Jacquelyn!

Travelling across the country wasn’t just about places, it was about people too. We met so many different individuals that I need help from my family to remember them all! Our first real conversation took place in Niagara Falls with a very friendly lady from Pennsylvania; she was travelling with her husband and teenage son and daughter. We had found a snake in the rock ledge along the sidewalk and she stopped to talk about the raccoons that run around the city in broad daylight.

In DeSmet, South Dakota, I particularly appreciated our tour guide, a dark-haired, fair skinned, college-age girl, dressed in period clothing who taught us all about pioneer living.

While at the Badlands, we met a middle-aged husband and wife who had planned to drive cross-country on their motorcycle (wow) until the husband tore his rotator cuff; so they rented an RV instead.

The next day we walked around Devil’s Tower with a man retired from the military and his 10 year old daughter, Kirsten, who live in Virginia. Every summer the two of them hook up their camper and head out for 6 to 8 weeks on the road. His wife, employed in the defense industry, flies out to meet them at the place she most wants to see and stays for a couple weeks before returning to work. Christina and Kirsten, both 5th graders, really enjoyed chatting together as we circled the monolith. Kirsten and her dad (we never did learn his name) are quite the adventurers, from rock climbing to white water rafting, they do it all! We actually bumped into them several days later in Yellowstone and met Kirsten’s mom! (See a pic of Kirsten early on in the blog.)

One night, after arriving at a hotel in Gillette, Wyoming tired and hungry, the front desk clerk, who had all her family and friends visiting her on the couches in the lobby, baked a fresh batch of cookies for us! She’s at the top of our list of favorite front desk associates.

We had an interesting encounter in Yellowstone. A white haired gentleman saw our license plates and asked where in Connecticut we were from. Turns out he lived in Avon! (Read about him somewhere around day 7)

We also met an amiable man from Great Britain while waiting for Old Faithful to blow. He had travelled the U.S. to visit his brother in Oregon, was touring the northwest alone by car for a few weeks and then returning to Oregon to visit his niece – who, by the way, no longer speaks to her father (his brother) so he visits them separately. Ahh – family struggles abound everywhere, don’ t they?

That night our stocky, waiter, with crystal blue eyes, chestnut colored hair and full, yet perfectly trimmed beard served us a delicious meal and dessert ~ we later found out it was his restaurant. Looking for a good meal in Gardiner, Montana? Go to Rosie’s.

While stopped for construction in Nevada we got out of our cars (if you’ve read my previous blogs you will know that we were really stopped) and talked with the young couple that was parked (yes parked) behind us. They were relocating from Boston to Sacramento because the wife was beginning her medical residency at UC-Davis.

In San Francisco we shared a tour trolley with a kind, married couple and their son and daughter. They shared lots with us about the city and we eventually deduced that they were real estate agents. (The continual pricing of every house we drove by kinda gave it away.) Their four year old son would hardly look at me the whole trip, but after I gave him my blanket to keep warm (because someone had taken theirs) he developed a new fondness for me. I actually got an invite to his 5th birthday party, next January, on 17th street in San Francisco. Or was it 16th? I can’t wait 😉 Even got a high five as we were leaving the trolley!

I sat on a bench to rest at the base of General Sherman’s Tree in Sequoia National Park where I met an elderly woman who lost her husband last year. She shared with me that her travels were bittersweet because, while she was enjoying her family, she missed her husband with whom she took many cross country road trips. I couldn’t help but think of my grandfather who only lasted 4 short months after losing my grandma. This woman has been in my prayers.

In Disney, I met a hispanic grandmother and L.A. native who vowed she’ll never leave because that’s where her kids and grandkids live. Our conversation began when we moved over on the Disney Train so she could have a seat. “Wow. You guys are wonderful people! You moved over!” she practically hollered. Sometimes it really is the little things that matter. I learned she likes California weather but fears the earthquakes – and like most women, she loves her family.

In Phoenix, Doug was walking into a Wal-Mart and he said his classic, boisterous “Good Mornin!” to a middle-aged african-american woman as she passed by. “You ain’t from around here, are ya’?” she replied, “Most people around here treat me like I’m sh–!” Doug was a bit surprised but he finally said, “Nope, I’m from the northeast and most people actually say we’re unfriendly! You have a good day!” I don’ t think he’ll ever forget that exchange.

We drove along the ridge at the Grand Canyon and there we met an african-american man returned from a tour overseas and moving with his wife and daughter to a new base. They decided to make a vacation out of it and visited the Grand Canyon along the way. Turns out he’s originally from Windsor, CT; said he hadn’t seen a CT plate in a long time.

In Amarillo, Texas, we met Bob and his teenage granddaughter, Amber. The two of them were travelling from Oklahoma City to the Red River in Mexico to go fishing and then to Denver to visit his daughter. He shared so much with us – about sorrow for friends hurt in the Oklahoma City bombings to the joy of his granddaughter’s turnaround since changing schools to the pain of recently putting his wife in a nursing home. He and she had travelled together often. Oh how my heart goes out to him.

Sitting just behind us at the Grand Ole Opry were two very friendly, elderly couples. One of which had travelled cross-country by train in 1999. We loved listening to their stories and they, the lady especially, enjoyed watching Christina. She said she missed her grandkids back home in Kentucky.

There were many, many more people that we met. Others we just observed. From wealthy white-haired women in Rolls-Royce’s on Rodeo Drive to the middle-class vacationers everywhere to the homeless man we bought a newspaper from in Nashville, (If you have a minute google “The Contributor” a newspaper by the homeless in Nashville); from the farmers in Minnesota to the Amish couple driving their horse covered wagon in Wisconsin to the ranchers in Wyoming ; from the real estate broker in San Francisco to the man talking Christian apologetics with perfect strangers while waiting for a bus at the Grand Canyon to the retired couples at every stop to the struggling musicians in Music City. This is my America. This is your America. This is our America.

There is so much that divides us. Sometimes its the real mountains, rivers, oceans and deserts that keep us apart. Other times it’s money, class, jobs, religion or race and culture. Then there are the barriers we build ourselves – our opinions, judgements, politics or even our busy schedules. And we always have a few mountains that we pretend we don’t see so we don’t have to climb them – the emotional separations, the personal isolation, family divisions and damaged relationships.

While on this trip my girl’s kept telling me that they want to meet their “other” grandpa – my biological father. We were driving through Virginia, where he lives, after all. 31 years since he moved away and made a new family, 9000 miles around the country and I still couldn’t bring myself to climb that mountain.

Even at the best of times, we will find something to divide us. I believe that’s just human nature. But as I travelled along roads built from coast to coast, highways that cut through cities and farmland, traversing deserts and mountains, bridges and tunnels to cross rivers and even the ocean, I thought about those things that connect us all: our passion for family, a love for freedom and liberty, a desire to succeed, a loyalty to our country, a need to be loved unconditionally, a longing for peace, security and a place to call home, a hope for a future and a yearning for something more than this…for meaning or purpose.

Connecting the American landscape was no easy task. Think of the years of back-breaking work it took to lay the trancontinental railroad, the lives lost building the GW bridge or the billions of gallons of asphalt that made our summer vacation possible. But somewhere, somebody had a vision of a country, a people, even a world, connected – despite our differences.

Where is that vision today? In America? In your neighborhood? Your church? Your family? I am talking to myself here, too. I mean, we never went to see my biological father. Even after a couple years of talking on the phone, I am not ready to see him or let him into the lives of my children. I’m not saying I want to turn around, but maybe some canyons are too wide to jump across – sometimes we need to stop and take time to build a bridge.

July 22, 2010 0