The End of All Sorrows

Tea for Two

2012-02-01T18:44:00.000-07:00

My first guest in Fort Worth was the lovely JS, age 8. We had tea last Saturday morning.

Then, we braved the chill and went to the botanical gardens.

New Old Desk

2011-10-09T15:11:00.002-07:00

In May 2010, I decided that I was going to try to fix my grandmother's desk, which had been stored in my father's metal shed for nearly thirty years. My mother's best friend helped me start removing the chipped veneer. She was a little incredulous that the piece was redeemable, but I had hope that paint would make things all right.

Hope faded as the wreck and ruin proved to be to much for an amateur. I knew that the desk wasn't worth anything. To me, though, it was worth something, because it belonged to my grandmother. So I called a professional cabinetmaker, Al Martinez.

Al said that he could fix the desk. Two weeks after he picked up the desk, he had me go to his workshop in south Phoenix to choose a stain for the desk.

The desk in process at Al's workshop. He told me that his wife saw the desk and said, "You're going to refinish THAT?!" He explained to her that it meant something to me.

Al repaired all nine drawers---some of them were falling apart, and now, they're all solid. He also cut a solid piece of alder to replace the top of the desk.

The finished piece

Al was able to use the original hardware. I told him that I was going to sing his praises here. If you want his number, let me know. The work he did for me will last for decades to come.

You Will Leave a Mark

2011-09-18T22:19:00.000-07:00

"I grew up with a Christianity that was predisposed against sorrow. To be sad was to deny your faith or your salvation. Jesus had made us happy, and we had an obligation to always show that happiness. Then Francis Schaeffer came along. He could not allow himself to be happy when most of the world was desperately lost and he knew why. He was the first Christian I found who could embrace faith and the despair of a lost humanity at the same time. Though he had been found, he still knew what it was to be lost."
--John Fischer, from "Learning to Cry for the Culture"

Return to the Cape

2011-07-27T19:10:00.000-07:00


Cousins John and JPS on July 13 Falmouth, MA

Peacefield, Qunicy, MA
The home of the Adams family from 1788 to 1927. President John Adams and his wife Abigail ended their days here. The house passed on to his son, grandson, and great-grandsons. The extended Adams family maintained the mansion as a museum for nineteen years, leaving the family treasures intact, and then gifted it and the granite library, which holds J.Q. Adams's magnificent library, to the National Parks Service.


Boardwalk over salt marsh Sandwich, MA

Where the boardwalk led
Cape Cod Bay

On the Atlantic White Cedar Swamp Trail
Wellfleet, MA
http://www.nps.gov/caco/planyourvisit/upload/AtlanticWhiteCedarcolor.pdf

Pray for Us

2011-04-15T22:53:00.002-07:00

Tonya and Bobby in Germany, Summer 2010

My cousin Bobby's wife died suddenly today. Tonya was only 57--and I would say a young 57--but she had some serious health problems in the past decade. We know where she is now. For us who are still here, prayers are appreciated.

Thrills and Chills

2011-02-24T20:25:00.000-07:00

This NEVER ceases to amaze me.

Puppy Princess

2011-01-29T19:44:00.001-07:00

Dafney, who is now 23 weeks old, started pulling herself up on the kitchen chairs a couple of weeks ago. Yesterday, I sat at the kitchen table while she played. At one point, after I got exasperated with her for jumping on me for the umpteenth time, she draped herself over one of the kitchen chairs and started talking.

I was surprised that she stayed put when I went to get my camera. Typically, she has a mini nervous breakdown if she's left alone during waking hours.

She's not always this good. By good, I mean not tearing or picking at whatever is at hand.

Dafney wishes she could go to Hillsdale College.

This was earlier in the week, when I let her come in my room. She likes to sit under my chair while I'm at my desk. I got up and she took my place. I wish she could type.

Baby Gets a Bath

2010-11-23T20:15:00.000-07:00

D at 3 months and a day

Dafney is especially precious when she's sleeping. In her waking hours, she's preparing for her role in Crazy Dog.

Dafney Grace

2010-11-08T20:33:00.000-07:00

October 31, 2010

I have a new sister, Dafney (that's Daphne in canine). She was born in southern Arizona on August 19th, and she joined our family on Halloween. Her mother is a Labrador and her father is a Golden Retriever--she is going to be a big girl.

The other day, I said to my mother, "I don't love her as much as I love Wimsey . . . "

Before I could finish my sentence, my mother added, "yet."

Black Sunshine

2010-10-17T11:45:00.000-07:00

October 7, 2010

Just after 4:30 on the morning of October 7th, I woke up and discovered that my dog Wimsey wasn't in the chair next to my bed. I had let her sleep there the previous two nights, knowing that her time with us was short. Chronic renal failure, caused by a prior illness, had caught up with her and was taking her away. The signs were present and blood work confirmed the hard fact. As I looked around the room, I realized that lights were on in the house. I got up and found my mom crying in the kitchen, with Wimsey standing next to her. Mom said, "It's time." After a survey of the evidence of Wimsey's systemic failure, I agreed it was time to let her go, so I left a message for the vet, who later called to say that she'd be there in the afternoon.

Even though it was a dreadful day, we had a good day. I took Wimsey for a short walk, we spent time lying in the grass, on the kitchen floor, sitting in the front room, looking out the screen door, listening to the guitar music my father used to play--just being present for life. It was good. My boss agreed to let me stay home for this day. I talked to my dear friend Kathi over the phone in the morning, who affirmed my belief that animals will be a part of God's redeemed creation. I called my friend Laurel and asked her to call me in the evening, so I could have something good to look forward to--she did.

I'm not saying anything new--it's hard to lose a pet. But how good it is to have one and have had one. My notions about dogs are that they are one of God's very best ideas: the big soulful eyes, the wagging tails, and the desire to be in the company of friends. Wimsey was a dear little companion--and for that, I am very grateful. In her last day, I commended Wimsey to God's grace and asked God for the grace to let her go and to give her a good death. He gave.

You Are Going To Frame This

2010-07-31T18:21:00.003-07:00

When I think about where my father is right now and how he arrived there the moment after his heart stopped, my own heart fills with joy. He is home--home with the Father who loves him, home with Christ who died for him--and someday, I'll be there, too.

Now that my father is in his permanent place in eternity, I have a reverence for things that were his or were marks of his life here: the tobacco smell of his bureau, his handwriting, and his guitars. Eventually, all these things will be dust, but they are here now and in these things I see the traces of his former presence here.

Within days of moving here to be with my mother, I was in my father's shed storing some of my boxes. A small, square piece of white paper on a shelf caught my eye. It was a hand-drawn pattern my father made to fashion a handle for one of his father's saws. I took the paper and saved it, planning to frame it for my brother, who has inherited my grandfather's tools.

"Back Handle"

I gave the pattern to my brother for Christmas, but there was a part of me that wanted to keep it for myself. The sketch was worth more to me than a masterpiece in a museum. Still, I knew I needed to give it away.

This May, I moved my grandmother's desk out of my father's shed. My dad had used it for odds and ends, so I had to put new shelves in the shed and reorganize the placement of some tools. When I swept out the shed, I found a tattered piece of paper under a shelf. I picked it up and when I realized what it was, I felt like weeping. It was the other piece of the pattern drawn by my father, but two years of heat, dust and some water in the mix turned it into a little ruin. I took the paper inside and tried to take some of the dirt off, but I knew I could destroy it with my efforts.

I felt sad that the pattern was hidden all those months and marked by time and the elements. "Why didn't you let me find this sooner?" I asked God. I knew the paper wasn't a big deal in the larger scheme of life; however, it was something of my dad's handiwork. A couple of nights later, I was sitting at my desk with my eye on the pattern and thinking about how things wear out, when the Holy Spirit, in his still and small voice, spoke to me: "You are going to frame this." Then, I had an impression in my heart of how often things, marred by time and life, are redeemed by God. Though marked, they are still useful and even beautiful. And so, I found a frame and I put my father's pattern it it.

"Front Handle"

I am going to keep the pattern on my desk as a reminder of my father, and of God's grace, mercy and love ever-extending to his children.

Another Hope Fulfilled

2010-07-28T18:36:00.002-07:00

"The past is never dead. It's not even past." -- William Faulkner

Meeting my cousin, John, at his home in Falmouth

July 16, 2010

S. Family Lobster Bake

North Falmouth, MA

Chronicling family history is a hobby of mine. My father enjoyed hearing about my findings, and when he died, I considered giving up the hunt; however, my mother encouraged me to continue. I'm glad she did, because it led me on a happy journey.

Last July, I figured out the identity of my great-grandfather's youngest brother, then I found his son and wrote to him, asking for any information he had about his father. Finding my cousin was a matter of guessing the right name. I have a family picture from the mid-1880s that my father inherited from his paternal grandparents. On the back, family members are listed by name--the youngest son is listed as "J. Warren." Since my great-grandfather's name was James, I decided to try another common "J" name: John. So, I searched for John Warren S. Very quickly, I struck gold. I found an article written about J.W.S., Jr., a developmental biologist. I looked up his address and wrote to him, including copies of the family pictures I had that included his grandparents (my great-great grandparents).

Within a week, I received a reply. Yes, those were his grandparents. Yes, we were cousins. John was elated that I found him because he didn't know much about his father's family. We exchanged a few letters and spoke on the phone. He extended an invitation to his family's annual lobster bake on Upper Cape Cod. John turned 90 last November and I consider myself fortunate to have found him well and with open arms.

On July 15th, I flew to Boston, and after a lovely bus ride past evergreens, I was at the home of my cousin Maggie, John's daughter, and in the presence of several second and third cousins. The next day, my cousin Kitty--another of John's girls--took me to meet her father. It was one of those moments that becomes mounted in that memory frame of "I will never forget."

How I Got What I Wanted Without Asking

2010-07-27T18:05:00.001-07:00

Meagan sitting at the kitchen table

July 9, 2010

On a Thursday night, I mentioned to my mother that I missed our friend Meagan and how I hadn't seen her for over a decade. Meagan moved to the deep south in 1996 to be close to her parents while she pursued an education degree so she could support her children. Our visits to the homeland hadn't overlapped in many years.

The next morning at 10:15, the doorbell rang. I answered the door and the woman on the porch couldn't see me through the security screen. She said my mother's name, and I replied that I was her daughter. The moment the words left my mouth, I knew who the visitor was, but I couldn't speak. She asked, "Do you know who I am?" I knew, but I could scarcely take in how my desire had been fulfilled.

Meagan spent the day visiting with us, and I was happy to receive the bounty of God's goodness: that I was there, in that house--even with many of my loves in Cowtown--at the right time.

The Projects

2010-06-26T10:51:00.001-07:00

A couple of years ago, if someone had been able to predict that I'd become slightly obsessed with the proper application of paint, I would have been incredulous. But I have since learned how lovely new paint makes old things.

Casie's desk

This was my brother's desk in high school. It was stained dark brown. I painted it for my cousin Casie, with hopes that the study vibes from the 1990s could translate into something good for the 2010s.

My father's chair

This is where my father would sit and drink coffee. This spot is also where he left his body when he went to Heaven. I asked my mother if I could repaint the chair, which she bought in 1982 for a party my parents hosted. The paint was chipped and the chair was rusting, so she gave the go-ahead as long as I painted it and it's companion a soft yellow.

First try with the Dremel

I discovered my dad had a Dremel tool. I refer to the backyard as the memorial garden, since it's where my father spent a lot of time and where he died. I made the name official.

Little red wagon in a new outfit

My brother received this red wagon as a gift on his 5th birthday. He is now 35. The wagon needed some help.

Before the restoration

I spent over an hour online trying to find a Western Flyer decal that could match the original. No luck. I also found the Dremel tool after I had painted the wagon--it would have been handy in the rust removal process.

Leaves of grass

The flower beds, the grass and the dog are projects at that are never ending. The dog as a project? Yes. She's in declining health and requires care that is time-consuming.

Special box

In one of my favorite films, The Fall, one of the main characters has a box that she carries filled with special things. I had a stationery box that I wanted to turn into my special box. At first, I thought it was too busy--now I think it's something William Morris could be proud of.

What was and is to come

In a visionary passion, I decided to try to restore my paternal grandmother's desk, which has been in my father's outside shed for over 25 years. A friend helped me start to remove the veneer and I damaged the plywood on the top surface. She asked me, "Are you sure you want to do this?" I was (and still am) sure, and said, "God has given me a vision of what this is going to look like when it's done." I'm glad that I have the mental picture because I know I'm going to need it to see me through. Most of the drawers need some repair and the veneer is still stuck on in some parts. My hope is that paint, like love, will cover a multitude of flaws.

One Eye Eyeying My Old Life

2010-06-21T15:08:00.000-07:00

Soon, I'm going to write how Paste changed my life in little ways that have a lot of meaning--mostly through music.

Here's one:

105

2010-05-14T22:04:00.000-07:00

105: Not the temperature here (yet).

One hundred and five years ago today, my paternal grandfather was born in the Quad Cities. He left his native place as a young man for the Southwest, married a home-grown gal and had three sons. My father was his youngest child.

I've been wanting to visit my grandparents' grave for many months. I hadn't been since my grandmother died when I was a child. This morning, I was contemplating taking some time to make the trip across the busy metroplex--it's just 25 miles to the cemetery--when, without my saying anything about it, my mother said in passing as she dated a check, "Today is the anniversary of your grandfather's birthday." I took this as a sign.

At last, it was good to stand over the place where my grandparents had been laid to rest.

As I got up from polishing the stone, I looked at the familial names etched in it, and I thought, "Someday, it will be you." It dawned on me that may not have grandchildren to come and polish a stone over my head, but I didn't let that unknown shake me.

I know that all my days are in God's hands. What comes after, that is also in his hands. I was just glad that he let me be here today.

Twainiac

2010-05-01T21:32:00.000-07:00

For a few days last week, I was deeply intrigued by Mark Twain's history. It started when the latest issue of the Smithsonian came. I skimmed the contents and chose to read the Twain article first. Then, I became fascinated by the hold his memory had on him.

I haven't read Twain since a graduate seminar in the fall of 1999. I don't gravitate to the corpus of Mr. Clemens; however, I have my best Twain memories reading Huckleberry Finn in the fall of my senior of college. The text was assigned in an American literature course and I read the book while reclining on my dorm bed (Twain often wrote in his pajamas in bed). As I look back over and over, the one feeling that I connect with that book is happiness. I was happy while reading. My own times were vexing that autumn: I picked up every case of strep throat or the flu that passed through the college and my maternal grandmother was dying. But, as I think back on the hours spent reading Huckleberry Finn, I have a strong undisturbed memory of happiness.

One thing I've learned about Twain that delights me is his affinity for the scarlet and grey robe he received when he was granted an honorary doctorate from Oxford University in 1907. He wore the robe whenever it struck his fancy, including to his daughter's wedding.

Sometimes, Facebook is Really Useful

2010-03-18T19:54:00.000-07:00

With Dick Schroeder at the Grand

I love it when friends come into town. A few weeks ago my friend Dick Schroeder, who travels all over the country speaking at colleges and retreats, posted on his Facebook profile that he was going on a trip that included my city. We were able to meet for a little while to talk and pray together. The time was a sweet gift.

Dick is--and shall remain--a pivotal figure in my life. I met him at a retreat in Ontario, Canada in February 1997. Back then he taught, as he still does, on the father heart of God and how God loves us as his very own dear children. In the months leading up the retreat, God had been teaching me several lessons about the importance of forgiveness in the Christian life. Dick's teaching was a summit in that season. One of the portions of the retreat dealt with examining relationships where forgiveness was needed, and Dick's genuine loving kindness in all his interactions made an impression on me. Just over a year later, instead of applying to Ph.D. programs, I applied to work with Dick and his college ministry staff at Montana State University.

In May 1999, after a school year of rich lessons lessons, I said goodbye to Big Sky country. I last saw Dick and his wife Joy on the porch of their home in Bozeman on a Saturday morning. I was heading south for a dream deferred: graduate school in Texas.

Father of Grace

2010-02-19T19:19:00.000-07:00

Ash Wednesday at Canaan in the Desert

I hadn't visited the spot in nine years. It was a treat to return to this place to pray. The last time I was visited, I brought a friend who had lost a baby. This is probably the most peaceful place in the valley-you can tell that it's bathed in prayer. Even though you can hear the sounds of the city, the mountain muffles the traffic and the sound of water splashing makes a kind of music.

Ten years ago today, my friends Tamar and Derek were married in the chapel here.

The fountain

I could smell the sage

While I sat across from the fountain, I contemplated the traits of God that are inscribed around its base. I saw goodness, peace, and faithfulness, but what I wanted to see was grace. As I left, I walked around the fountain and the last trait I saw--the one I felt I needed the most--was there. The words didn't make it so, but it was good to the words and to know that this is who He is.

After Exile

2010-02-01T20:35:00.001-07:00

I got back to working on the book, In The Time of Their Affliction, today after a month of not doing much to move forward in the author department. My goal was to edit 22 pages out the text, a hurdle I happily jumped over and passed as I reached 30 pages. Then, I was ready to jump out of my skin.

New People

2010-01-23T21:27:00.000-07:00

Just about every other Friday night, I go to David and EveElise's for a small group Bible study from church. Last night was special because they had a baby girl just the week before. They acted like it was no big deal to jump back into the swing of things. We talked about Habakkuk with no significant interruptions from the new little member of the tribe.

Me and Brynn

Channing and EveElise

Carlin and EveElise

David and Brynn

By Suffering

2010-01-12T15:05:00.001-07:00

This message by Dr. Tim Savage is one of best I have heard on the topic of suffering.
http://www.cbcaz.org/uploads/92/6a/926aa0396dcd2c9a91a3d718f1890be1/1-3-10_Life-As-Suffering-Part-III-Seeking-God-With-Our-Hearts-Job.mp3

Pray Without Ceasing

2010-01-11T22:37:00.001-07:00

http://www.jesusprayer.org/

Good Things

2009-12-30T14:23:00.004-07:00

For the past couple of weeks, the local paper has been taking an inventory of the past decade. Most of the historic notes are lowlights--perhaps the most horrific of all is September 11, 2001. May we not forget.

I decided that I wanted to look at the past decade in terms of highlights. There are plenty of hard things that happened--sickness, deaths, and disappointments. Even so, I thought it would be productive to look at the good things that have occurred in my life in the past ten years--some of less magnitude than others, but blessings all the same.

2000
I got a puppy for my birthday. Wimsey is the gift that keeps on giving.

2001
I spent a lot of time with my family as I was on a one-year leave from graduate school.

2002
When a housing situation fell through, a colleague offered me a room in her lovely house for less rent than I had budgeted. The difference was exactly the increase I had been asking God for so I could support friends on the mission field.

2003
My mother graduated from college (39 years after she originally planned). I bought my first new car.

2004
I took a 10-day road trip to visit friends in Missouri and Iowa. I stopped at a Baptist cemetery in northern Missouri and found the graves of my great-great-great grandparents, who settled there in 1842.

Mt. Tabor, Atlanta, Missouri

2005
I defended my dissertation and graduated from TCU. Thank you, God!

with cousin Casie at a graduation party

2006
I started leading evening women's Bible study and made great friends. My parents celebrated 40 years of marriage.

2007

A reunion of college friends in St. Louis.

2008

My father and I celebrated our birthday together eight days before he went home to the Father.

2009

I learned how to grow flowers in the desert . . .

and I connected with my grandfather's cousin John--a WWII veteran, scientist and a gentleman.

J.W.S.

"Oh, give thanks to the Lord, for he is good; for his steadfast love endures forever!" Ps. 118:29

Jesus and Algebra

2009-12-19T13:35:00.000-07:00

Isn't it exciting to think about how God came to us to save us? He was a king who left his Father to come to us in a barn as a baby boy, specifically sent to ransom mankind from the curse of sin. On the night of Jesus's birth, God revealed this coming to lowly shepherds in the fields over Bethlehem.

When we consider this, all our struggles become like an algebraic equation: if God did x (send Jesus to us to save us), then He is big enough to solve y (our problems). Blessed be our God and Father and our Lord Jesus Christ.

Song of the Year

2009-12-13T21:30:00.003-07:00

I twitter, but only on the inside.

My twittering isn't about me telegraphing to my followers the details of what I'm doing now. It's me fluttering and fussing on the inside, my heart and soul rushing and rolling on about life--and missing something about being alive, mainly because of worry.

On the night of a great loss in late 2008, my friends Sherry and Jenny sat on the floor of my apartment with me, the Trinity Hymnal in my lap, each woman holding one of my hands, and we sang "Be Still My Soul." We decided to sing because rejoicing was a brace against trial, and the old hymn was suggested.

Over the past year, the first line of the hymn has become a counterweight to my interior twittering: Be still, my soul, the Lord is on your side.

A Bit o' the Book

2009-11-24T16:19:00.000-07:00

As I work on editing a book of 16th century letters, I daily find bits that I think are spectacular in their focus on God's glory and His promises. Invariably, I want to share these parts with someone.

Here is a part of a letter by John Bradford to London Christians in the 1550s:

Let the life you lead be in the faith of the Son of God, for the just live by faith; this faith flies from all evil, and follows the word of God, as a lantern to her feet and a light to her steps. Her eyes are above where Christ is; she beholds not the things present, but rather things to come; she glories in afflictions; she knows that the afflictions of this life are not to be compared to the glory which God will reveal to us and in us. Of this glory God grant us here a lively taste; then shall we run after the scent it sends forth. It will make us valiant men to take to us the kingdom of God: where the Lord of mercy brings us in his good time, through Christ our Lord; to whom, with the Father and the Holy Ghost, three Persons and one God, be all honor and glory, world without end. Amen.

"Hitherto the Lord Has Helped Us"

2009-11-02T16:35:00.001-07:00

For All Saints' Day, I decided to assemble a tribute to my father, now in Heaven for one year (which must be like a few seconds for him). I gathered many things that were part of his daily routine and tokens that we associate with him--like his guitar, his aftershave, his sunglasses, and a book--spread over one of his flannel shirts, which was part of his winter uniform. He was in the habit of writing reminder notes to himself and I included a note he wrote, with his distinctive block print, in the last week of his earthly life.

The truth from one of Dad's favorite passages:
"And this is the testimony, that God gave us eternal life and this life is in his Son." I John 5:11

Then Came October

2009-10-20T21:47:00.001-07:00

October 26, 2002
San Antonio, Texas

This is my favorite picture of my father and me together on our birthday in 2002. I was attending a conference in San Atone. My parents flew in from Phoenix and my brother drove over from Houston to celebrate my father's 60th birthday.

A bright spot for this year: I know my father is alive and I know I will see him again. As a new year of life, God willing, is posed before me, I think of my own transit in time and of how much time has passed so quickly.

Everything is relative to eternity. This is truth freighted with hope which carries the years so swiftly. I'm grateful for the moments that I can recognize--not being particularly burdened by anything--that everything is a gift taking me closer to home.

Come quickly, Lord Jesus.

September

2009-10-10T18:45:00.002-07:00

This is me and la madre at an event at her church.

When she gave me the picture, I immediately noticed the proptosis in my left eye, a trace from Graves Disease. It appears wider than the right one because it became slightly displaced in my illness and it will always be that way. It registered as a "what's wrong with this picture?" moment, and I pointed it out to Mom. She said, "I don't notice it." I know it's not that noticeable, and most days, I don't see it either unless I am really tired. But in this world full of mirrors, women know their own faces. After years of applying eyeliner and mascara, I know what my brain registers as normal.This woman knows that she used to look ever so slightly different.

Don't we all? I think we get an impression of how we look that is fixed in our younger years: a face that is free of the wear and tear of time. A visage without sun damage, scars, sickness, signs of sleep deprivation, or even smile lines. We all used to look different, and still, we look like ourselves.

The face that I want to see someday is the one that has no traces of being part of a fallen world--the one that reflects the light from the face of Christ. I don't know if there will be mirrors in Heaven (I almost hope not), but that doesn't matter. I know I'll be able to see exactly what I'm looking for in the faces of you and you and you--my friends, my family, my God. We will all look different, and yet, we will all look like ourselves.

More from Dad's Letter

2009-08-27T16:03:00.000-07:00

"My dear child, you have the opportunity to blossom into a magnificent instrument of the Lord. Do not compromise on the principles you have been taught from childhood. Although family and studies and life and living each have their importance, put God first in all things and hold forth the name of our Lord. . . . Remember what you have been taught. Remember me in your prayers. Do the best that you can in your studies and enjoy the circumstances that the Lord has provided for you."

Nostalgia

2009-08-26T21:48:00.000-07:00

In late August many years ago, my parents left me at Hillsdale College in Michigan. I was a transfer student and it was my junior year. Our parting, on their wedding anniversary, was difficult. I had never seen my father shed a tear--not even when his mother died, but he cried at our goodbye. We knew we wouldn't see each other for four months.

My father wrote to me every week while I was away--every single week. I don't think he missed a week in the two years I was there. All my housemates came to expect to see the letter waiting for me on Saturday mornings.

I've been thinking of those letters since my dad died. I saved them all. Tonight, I finally pulled the file box out and found the first letter he sent. Here is some of what he said:

"I'm sure you know that leaving you was one of the hardest things I (and your mom) have ever had to do. Frankly, I didn't want to go but it was necessary. As result of our departure you were able to get on with what you needed to do--mainly adjust--which I am sure you are able to do. You are a good woman with a good head on your shoulders and I have no doubt that you will be very OK. I cried for you and I pray for you. You will show your class and do me proud."

I miss that man.

I have come to recognize that most of our adult lives are negotiating one adjustment after the other--the comings and goings, the births and deaths, the new years and the old. We make our deepest grooves, creating permanent spaces, in the love we give and receive from the heart.

What Became of the Seeds

2009-08-20T17:15:00.001-07:00

Dahlia

Zinnia

Many, many weeks ago, I planted dahlia and zinnia seeds in my flower garden. Summer has turned the seeds from little sprouting plants to flowers. For this, I am very grateful. It is so hot and dry here in the desert, and I didn't know if I would see my hopes become anything. In a year of many firsts, I have my first flowers from seeds. They are a marvel to me. So intricate, transitory, and beautiful in the light of day. I count the small gains that have grown up in time.

Under the Influence

2009-08-14T17:33:00.000-07:00

La Reine de Saba

On Monday, I was in search of a recipe in Bon Appetit and I came under the influence of the latest Julia Child craze. There on the website was a picture of a chocolate cake from Mastering the Art of French Cooking. My mom loves chocolate cake, so I copied the recipe and stuck it in a file for future reference. I didn't know that the cake was going to be in the film Julie and Julia, which Mom and I went to see yesterday. After we left the theater, Mom mentioned the cake. I told her I had the recipe.

"You do?" She was a little incredulous. I just happened to have all the ingredients on hand, but I didn't tell her. The name of the cake is translated the Queen of Sheba.

While Queen Mom was at work, I left a message on her voice mail this afternoon saying I had a surprise for her and that it was edible.

She liked it. It's hard not to rejoice at the marriage of chocolate, butter and eggs.

Who's Next?

2009-08-11T20:07:00.000-07:00

At the Wrigley Mansion

Summer 2009

My friend Sherry came to town to visit her parents and I had the pleasure of meeting her mom, touring one of the beautiful Wrigley homes, and enjoying lunch with Sherry and Betty. I want to know who's coming over next?

In the Light

2009-07-14T13:46:00.000-07:00

Di at the Light Well

Phoenix Art Museum

At the art museum fountain

My TCU friend Diann came into town for 36 hours to visit me. It was 114 degrees when I took her to the airport. She said she wouldn't visit in the summer again, but I'm glad she braved the heat this time.

Words, Words, Words

2009-07-07T19:02:00.000-07:00

Thanks to Tagcrowd (http://tagcrowd.com/), I found out which 50 words occurred most frequently in my dissertation. My new work is a riff on the same theme. Pray for me--that I'll get new words written.

Writing Avoidance and The Holy Sonnets

2009-06-28T13:34:00.000-07:00

I think about writing every day. In fact, I write in my head . . . more than anyone will ever know because I haven't committed my words to paper. Sometimes, I'll pull out the notebook I almost always carry with me and write something down, but more often, I'll just stream words in my head. Part of the problem of this practice is that I have no memory for this type of writing. I have a terrific memory for details about my friends, but it is no kind of trap when it comes to the ephemera of words. I have a growing sense of conviction to quit writing in my head and start writing on paper (or the computer screen). It's not that the head work doesn't count, but it doesn't leave a discernable trace.

I also avoid the writing I'm supposed to be doing for profit, which is shameful since I have no excuse for not doing it other than not wanting to. Last weekend, I heard an interview with Larry David, who is more than marginally successful, and he mentioned being more interested in things that would let him avoid writing. I thought, "Ah, a kindred spirit!" I was very happy to know he was like me.

My task avoidance isn't unique. Lots of writers are expert procrastinators, but as a Christian, it's a dilemma. If I am not using my talents in doing what I am supposed to do, what do I say to God?: "Sorry, but I just felt like wasting my life by wasting my time." It's not a matter of wasting a little time--it's the accretion of time over days and months and years.

I'm trying to find my way up and out. Like Donne, who didn't avoid a good thing when he put the Holy Sonnets on paper, I need a force greater than myself to make a way:

Batter my heart, three-person'd God, for you
As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend;
That I may rise and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend
Your force to break, blow, burn, and make me new.

The only way I'm going to be free of my faults is asking God to lead me out of them. If I ask, I know He will. So, lead me.

On the Last Day in May

2009-06-17T21:00:00.001-07:00

With Chihuly

Not Chihuly

Desert Botanical Gardens

It was a crazy stunt, but we could take it because we're natives. And, it was the last day of the glass exhibit. On a very hot and dry Sunday afternoon at 2 p.m., we trailed through the desert to see the Chihuly glass installation at the Desert Botanical Gardens. The place is a lot more garden-y, by Sonoran Desert standards, than the pictures reveal. How I miss Fort Worth--the grasses, the roses, the water and trees, even the squirrels running across the streets. But I'm grateful I got to be here on the last day in May.

Memorial Day

2009-05-25T12:42:00.000-07:00

La Mariposa

2009-05-09T11:07:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, as I was preparing to mow the back yard, a large yellow butterfly with brown markings caught my attention. I was standing under the citrus tree and the butterfly flew in front of me and hovered at a low branch to inspect a new bud. It fluttered for several moments just a few feet away from me. My eyes filled with tears. I was in the shade on a Friday morning, with the will and the strength to work on the yard, watching a butterfly created by God. It was beautiful.

Besides my commitment to keeping my Dad's lawn pretty, I thought I would talk about where I spend some my time, what I'm doing, and include a few pictures.

This is my oak desk which I bought at Butler's on 8th Avenue in Fort Worth. I miss the huge windows it used to sit in front of at my old apartment. Supposedly, I'm working on a book. That's been a process of fits and starts. This morning, I had a little bit of Holy Spirit conviction because I haven't applied myself to what I know God wants me to do. I wrote most of my dissertation in my little tree fort on Elizabeth Boulevard and I thought that I would find the same sort of drive on Stella Lane. Not so.

I spend a lot of time with this pretty girl, Wimsey. She was mine when she first came into the family, then she became my father's baby, and now she acts like I'm the one again.

After my dad died, my mother let me use a Home Depot gift card he had received for his birthday to buy plants for his flower beds. A friend and I planted the autumn salvia and petunias a few days after the memorial service. I have since become a flower fiend. My best friend, who is a born gardener, told me that "there's always room for another flower." I have taken this to be gospel truth and I am deeply happy when I am looking at the lovely colors in the flower garden. Bugs have started to nibble on the leaves, which I consider trespassing, and I need to figure out what to do about that. I am asking God to spare the plants, to bless the ground and to help the seedlings grow.

I spend a lot of time with this pretty lady. Mom, as was in the family plan before Dad went to Heaven, bought a new car this spring. I got to go with her as she went through the process. We are now, as she says, a Hyundai family.

We turned in Dad's PT Cruiser to Chrysler. I'm not sure what possessed my father to lease a vehicle. He could have owned it outright for what he paid over the course of the lease. Mom would have liked to keep it, but the deal was no deal, and so it went.

Most evenings, I cook dinner for my mother and myself. Tomorrow, we'll have a family meal with sisters and cousins to celebrate Mother's Day.

I will close for now by coming back to the butterfly. After spending six hours in the yard, I saw her again as I was finishing my work. She flew past the patio to the flower garden. I knew it was no mistake that I saw the creature once more. She was a sign of grace, bookending my work, reminding me that God makes all things new in His time.

Something Good

2009-04-23T20:08:00.001-07:00

Lovely Kara at Mojo's

Ava, 2 1/2

Blake, Kara, Ava and Penn (4 months new)
Scottsdale, Az

I received a wonderful blessing last weekend. My friends, Blake and Kara, were in the Valley on a family vacation. Kara and I had a good visit over frozen yogurt, then we joined up with the rest of the family so I could see the kids. The Simonsons and I were in the same care group at church for over two years. Fellowship with them has ever been a delight to me. I wish Fort Worth friends could visit every weekend.

Safely To Arrive At Home

2008-11-27T19:17:00.000-07:00

TCU Homecoming

Dutch's, Fort Worth

October 25, 2008

Last October, my parents made what I now consider a providential visit to Fort Worth so my father and I could celebrate our mutual birthday together. I was unable to secure time off at Christmas, so my folks decided to visit me for the natal day. My brother drove up from Houston to join us. He hadn't seen my father in a year when our immediate family was together in Phoenix to celebrate Dad's 65th birthday. On our birthday in 2008, we went to church together in the morning and had brunch at Bistro Louise. We spent the rest of the afternoon just being together and around 4 p.m., I took my parents to the airport. I casually kissed my father good-bye, thinking I'd see him again in January when I planned a visit over the MLK weekend.

Phoenix, November 2008

At dusk on November 3rd, I took out my trash and heard my landlord open his backdoor. He motioned me over to the deck and asked for my trash can. I was confused--why did he want my trash can? I gave it to him and he handed me his phone, saying, "It's your mom." You know it's something bad when your mom is trying to reach you through someone else.

Mom said, "It's Dad. He's gone."

I didn't wonder where. I knew.

Mom had gone outside after a nap and found Dad sitting in a chair on the side porch. He had died with some dignity and grace. Dad puttered in the yard most afternoons. On this day, Mom found his shovel and gloves propped against the fence, the back gate still open. Dad had made his way to a chair in a moment of physical weakness. He took off his glasses, placed them on the table, and closed his eyes. Shortly thereafter, he died in a spot where he spent many hours reading, drinking coffee, and talking to my mom. This remains a beautiful grace.

Whatever sadness that has attended and still attends this hard turn is overreached by a sense of satisfaction and joy--the satisfaction of knowing that one of us has finished a great race and joy at the prospect and perspective of our eternity in Christ.

Speak to Me

2008-10-14T17:38:00.000-07:00

After work, I went to a visitation for a colleague who died on Friday after suffering from cancer. On the way to the funeral home, the rain came down hard and fast--it was difficult to see further than a few car lengths. When started toward home, the rain had stopped and the clouds had drifted. As I neared Henderson Street, a grey van pulled out down the lane and I could tell from the writing on the side, in Spanish, that it was a church vehicle. There was a verse on the back of the van in big black letters: "Mas el justo por la fe vivira." I knew it said something about life, faith and the just. The reference was Romans 1:17. So, at a stop light I pulled out my car Bible and found the verse: "but the righteous will live by faith." The van was in front of me for a little while longer and I kept looking at the verse--marking the space between life and death, knowing that the Word was there for me, and hoping to see its manifestation in my life.

Calvin on Providence

2008-09-29T19:31:00.000-07:00

Since I work in a job that depends to a great extent on banks being solvent, I've been reflecting on financial security and trusting the provision of God. This evening, I listened to Frank James talk about "The Calvin I Never Knew." He quoted from a letter that John Calvin wrote to another pastor who had suffered a great loss and I received a humble admonition:

"Our principal source of consolation consists in this: that by the good and admirable providence of God, the things that we consider adverse somehow contribute to our salvation. We defraud God unless each of us lives and dies in utter dependence upon his sovereign and good will."

Terrible Beauty

2008-09-16T15:54:00.001-07:00

Houston, Texas

My brother took this picture in his neighborhood near Rice University. I was struck by how beautiful the trees are even without their leaves. This vista looks like a good place for a story to begin.

The Greats of 1918

2008-08-03T17:20:00.000-07:00

Alexander Solzhenitsyn has died at age 89.

When I was working for Russell Kirk in 1993, the good doctor celebrated his 75th birthday in October. In a short span thereafter, I figured out that two other men of import in the 20th century were also born in 1918: Billy Graham and Solzhenitsyn.

Here is Alexander the Great in his own words, from his Nobel Lecture in 1970:

"A work of art contains its verification in itself: artificial, strained concepts do not withstand the test of being turned into images; they fall to pieces, turn out to be sickly and pale, convince no one. Works which draw on truth and present it to us in live and concentrated form grip us, compellingly involve us, and no one ever, not even ages hence, will come forth to refute them.

Perhaps then the old trinity of Truth, Goodness, and Beauty is not simply the dressed-up, worn-out formula we thought it in our presumptuous, materialistic youth? If the crowns of these three trees meet, as scholars have asserted, and if the too obvious, too straight sprouts of Truth and Goodness have been knocked down, cut off, not let grow, perhaps the whimsical, unpredictable, unexpected branches of Beauty will work their way through, rise up TO THAT VERY PLACE, and thus complete the work of all three?

Then what Dostoevsky wrote--"Beauty will save the world"--is not a slip of the tongue but a prophecy. After all, he had the gift of seeing much, a man wondrously filled with light."

Another Reunion

2008-07-12T18:09:00.000-07:00

Laura at the T & P

Today, I had lunch with a friend from Hillsdale whom I hadn't seen in eight years. Laura and I graduated together on a beautiful day in May, then travelled in Europe with a couple of friends for a few weeks. Laura brought pictures of our Continental adventures. As I flipped through the first few pictures, I said, "I think I took these." Sure enough, my handwriting was on the back of each print stating the place. I told Laura that I had a picture of Highgate Cemetery in London on my wall at home. I dragged her there at the end of our trip because I wanted to see Christina Rossetti's grave. Laura said that she was glad we went and that she remembered how remarkable Highgate was. We had fun reminiscing about the ups and downs of backpacking and subsisting on bread, cheese and chocolate. I offered to take her back to the train station at the Texas & Pacific Lofts, and when we walked into the foyer, we remembered how much time we spent together on trains and in train stations all those years ago.

A Reunion

2008-07-10T19:22:00.000-07:00

Hadassah (6 1/2)
Josiah (3) and Hadassah

On Wednesday, I met a college friend at the Kimbell. Tamar and her family moved here a couple of weeks ago from El Paso. I hadn't seen her since April 2005 at my aunt's funeral in Phoenix (the city where we grew up). I had never seen Josiah, who was in his mom's belly at our last meeting. The kids warmed to me quickly--probably because they'd been prepped on how they were going to get to see the legendary Auntie Jacq when they moved to Fort Worth.

Wild Turkeys

2008-07-05T17:43:00.001-07:00

Ben and Elliot
Denton County

Yesterday, I watched the Ryan Place Parade for the first time in the four years that I've lived here. I was informed by a friend the day before the 4th that he'd be participating in the parade. My response was, "You don't live in the neighborhood," and his was, "So." He let me know that the parade started at 10 and I said I'd try to be up.

At 9:58, I got my act together and went downstairs. I had to wait a long time for Ben to pass by in in 195os Corvette with his grandson. I think he was surprised to see me and he thanked me for getting out of bed.

Today, I went to look at a property near Denton. As I drove the area, I noticed that birds were just beginning to cross the road. I thought they were ducks, but as I got nearer I knew they weren't. They looked like little turkeys to me and they took their sweet time crossing the street.

An Airport Excursion

2008-06-25T16:06:00.000-07:00

Terminal C

I met my family at the airport on Monday afternoon. They were on a layover to Columbus, Ohio, en route to a conference and to visit with relatives. Before I left my office, I checked the airline's website and the airport's website to confirm the connecting gate. I gave my family instructions to meet me at Terminal D, as this was, ostensibly, the point of departure for Ohio. Not so. Once in the airport, I called information and found out they were departing from Terminal C. After a half-hour of waiting, we finally met up, but not without a little confusion on my mother's side.

Me: "Where are you?"
Mom: "In the terminal."
Me: "I told you to meet me at baggage. Where are you in the terminal?"
Mom: "By TGIF."
Me: "Mom, that's inside the terminal. Unless you have a magic ticket, I can't get in to see you."

Through the glass barricades, my sister spotted me. I was exasperated with my mother for not paying attention to details like "you must have a ticket to enter the terminal."

As I learned when she was here in February, she pays attention to details--they are just very different details than the ones I pay attention to. Have I said that my mother is a much more patient, kind and generous person than I am? She said that I have a lot of rules and that my rules have rules. As a man in fatigues passed by, I explained that this is how things get done and noted that the military was a good case in point.

My military dad is in my camp (or I'm in his), but I always need to check myself for impertinence and exasperation because I would not be the person that I am if I didn't have the great mother that I do. Incidentally, my mother cannot see the physical resemblance between the two of us; she thinks I look like my dad.

One, Two, Four

2008-06-17T17:34:00.001-07:00

John Arthur, Abraham, and Titus

Six little feet in the pool

The boys and their parents
Jennifer, John, Edi and David

On Saturday night, I had three boys at my house. They brought their parents, who got along smashingly. We all had a lovely time, even with unwanted dog kisses and having to wait forever (in kid time) for dessert.

Kiki Grows Up

2008-06-16T10:51:00.000-07:00

Promotion Day

May 20 - Phoenix

My little second cousin Casie, age 13, was promoted from the 8th grade a few weeks ago. My sister sent pictures and they were a bit of a time-goes-by shock. I was in the delivery room with my cousin Irma in 1994 when Casie was born. I've told Casie, more than once in the past year, that I wish I could make her go back to being two (she was super cute, as two year olds are). My grandmother used to say the same thing about my brother, who was the youngest grandchild, and I thought it was a strange wish. Now, I get it.

Vista

2008-06-07T18:27:00.000-07:00

Sherman, Texas

One thing I like about my job is the occasional day when I'm required to look at property in person--not just on an aerial or in pictures. My latest project led me to Sherman and the countryside thereabout.

I love the look of an empty road bordered by trees. Perhaps this is because I grew up in the desert, where there are trees, but palm trees and weeping willows don't provide leafy shade. Later in my Sherman foray, I found myself on a road completely arched over by trees--fabulous, but a little creepy in its remoteness.

Beside dwelling in the presence of God's holiness, living free from sin, and in the beauty, worship and work of Christ, my idea of heaven is thick green grass and lots of trees, hills, brooks, streams, creeks, rivers and lakes. Heaven is the anti-desert.

This Is for You, Louanne

2008-06-06T15:03:00.000-07:00

What was I doing 10 years ago?
I was working in college campus ministry at Eastern Michigan University, raising support to go to Montana State University

What are five things on my to-do list today (not in any particular order)?
Try not to feel bad about what I didn't get done today (like pay medical bills), swim, and talk to my best friend, Laurel

What snacks do I enjoy?
Chocolate, sweet potato chips, almonds, Boursin cheese and crackers

What are some places I’ve lived?
--Phoenix, Arizona
--Mecosta, Michigan (a village of 300 in central MI) to intern with Russell Kirk after college
--Washington, D.C. to intern at a journalism center
--Ypsilanti, Michigan (school, again)
--Bozeman, Montana (college campus ministry)
--Fort Worth, Texas to attend TCU

What things would I do if I were a billionaire?
I would be an artist and write (from my home in England), and be a philanthropist. I'd endow the Trinity Institute in Tehuacana, scholarships at my alma mater, Hillsdale, and one for PCA members going to seminary.

O, For A Month of Sundays

2008-06-03T18:00:00.000-07:00

Liz
Sierra, Matt, & Dakota
Rachel
Laura

I have good news: I am starting to feel better (3+ months post surgery). Thank you, God. Time has certainly been a test.

Twice in the past month, I've had guests over for an early Sunday dinner. My friend Liz told me she wanted her kids to see my casita, so they came over for a tea party two weeks ago. Even though I was happy to have them, it took all the energy I had to get ready. This past Sunday, Rachel and Laura came for dinner. I could tell remarkable difference in my energy level compared to the previous dinner. And today, one of my colleagues noted that I seemed peppier than I have been in months. I am peppier and I hope (and pray) I stay this way.

Though the Darkness Hide Thee

2008-04-14T17:51:00.000-07:00

Each week, I meet with my friend Liz so we can pray for each other. We usually head to the Starbucks at Montgomery Plaza and settle into the corner if we can nab it.

A couple of weeks ago, while we were still in the car, Liz spoke of disappointment with God. In turn, I talked about a fragment that had recently surfaced in my memory and pointed to the sovereignty of God, reminding me how we don't get the full picture of His work in our moment in time, but how we have to trust His good plans for us.

When the old memory shot up, I had been thinking about being in the hospital in February. There, I was very uncomfortable--no fever, but I was in pain from my system's response to low calcium, and the pain kept me awake. During the night, I prayed for relief but it didn't come, and when I rose in the morning, I felt even worse. After getting out of bed, I would go in the bathroom, put a wash-cloth over my face and sob. When my mother arrived, I would be a shaking, miserable mess, and would say in quiet despair, "I don't understand why God doesn't help me." This scene took place a couple of days in a row.

The recollection of this experience became connected to the far-past. Here is the memory:

When I was four, I had scarletina accompanied by a high fever. At the pediatrician's office, I was placed on a table surrounded by nurses and the doctor who were placing cool, wet cloths on my bare limbs, chest and head. It was horrible and I kicked and screamed, but they held me down. I cried and turned my head over my shoulder where I could see my father standing in the corner of the room watching the scene with his hands in his pockets. He didn't say anything and he didn't do anything. I remember feeling betrayed--though I didn't have the word for it--that he stood by while they did this to me. I didn't know it then, but he was letting them help me.

I'm looking forward to the day when I forget, because I feel so good, that I have Graves Disease. I'm not there yet, and I still wrestle with the disappointment of how the past two years have felt, but I'm holding on to what John Weiser said to me: we can't let our feelings dictate who God is to us. We have to hold on to His promises, which accurately tell us about the character of God.

These Thousand Hills

2008-04-07T17:24:00.001-07:00

Archer County, Texas

On Friday, I had to go to Wichita Falls to inspect a property. I took an alternative path home so I could stop in Archer City and visit Larry McMurtry's bookstore. On my way back to Fort Worth, I passed several fields of grazing cattle. I kept thinking of the psalm that declares God's ownership of the cattle "on a thousand hills," and I contemplated His sufficiency for all my lacks.

"For every beast of the forest is mine, the cattle on a thousand hills. I know all the birds of the hills, and all that moves in the field is mine." Psalm 50:10,11

The Reading Chair

2008-03-30T12:31:00.000-07:00

For several months, my friend Kara has been on a mission to help me find a gently used armchair. The week, the mission was at last a success. I now have a very comfortable place to sit and read. The chair was only forty-five bones and it is in very good condition. Eventually, I'll have it recovered in a less frilly fabric.

My friend Rachel agreed to go with me to pick it up and helped me carry it up the stairs. I let her sit in it first. She got up and said, "Now you sit in it." I did and declared aloud my thanks to Jesus. My apartment has always been homey, but at last it felt just right.

Easter

2008-03-23T16:37:00.000-07:00

"You need to be more concerned for the glory of God than you are for the attitudes of men. But another thing you need to realize is the person who loves you most will tell you the most truth. One of the greatest distinguishing marks of a false prophet is that he will always tell you what you want to hear." --Paul David Washer

Trust Me, I'm A Doctor

2008-03-20T15:41:00.000-07:00

On Tuesday evening, as I considered my baleful day, my friend Diann called me. When she rang, I was listening to Dustin Salter's memorial service. Remembering Dustin's teaching on providence is always a corrective. Salt water washes out self pity.

Diann exclaimed, "I'm coming to town!" for Weatherford to Fort Worth--interstates and all--is a bit of a haul. We met for lunch at Central Market and revelled in each other's company.

Diann is my closest friend from my TCU days. She finished her Ph.D. last November, almost two years to the day after I completed mine. Graduation was a very happy affair, and since completing her degree, I can tell that Di is happier for it. Defending one's dissertation is like losing a 1,000 pound psychic burden. It automatically makes you a more cheerful person. Di, who has been a source of love and light, has grown brighter.

If Jesus Would Just IM Me

2008-03-18T15:45:00.000-07:00

Today was a frustrating day at work. Word files that wouldn't format and link with Excel files took up the majority of the day. Plus, I could feel the weight of the rain and grey inside--even from my sunless cube. As one who was born and reared in the dry desert, I love rain. Grey days, if broken up by sun, don't generally bother me. But as the day went on, I became a citizen of Crank City. And when things don't go my way, I can see a collective of disappointments in radiant rays--an array of pities for myself.

When I got home, my landlady asked me how my day went. I quietly said, "It was difficult." A few minutes later, she tried to coax one of the black labs into my apartment to give me company. The dog wouldn't have it--she brought the mama's boy instead of the one who would do anything for a treat.

I decided to work on some research for a book I'm thinking about writing. Immediately after sitting down at my computer, I thought, "I wish Jesus could IM me." Then, I started to think about my desire. What I really wanted Him to say was, "I love you. Everything is going to be okay." I know that someone who ever lives to intercede is always already saying those things, but today, I wished He had a gmail account and that I could see a chat box pop up.

Jesus:"It's me."
JPS: "Hey."
Jesus: "I know you had a hard day."
JPS: "Yes."
Jesus: "I love you."
JPS: "Thank you."
Jesus: "Everything is going to be okay."
JPS: "I wish you were here."

Eliza Is One

2008-03-11T05:35:00.001-07:00

Ron, Eliza, and Jenny

March 9, 2008

I was the only person without children at Eliza's first birthday. Before I entered the house, I thought that the mass of kids might be overwhelming, but it wasn't. They all entertained each other as the adults chatted. The standard interruption was, "Mom, can I have another cupcake?," with the standard response, "How many have you had?" I thought it was sweet that the kids asked because they could have gotten away without asking.

Eliza had as much cake as she wanted (she's a frosting girl)--no asking required.

What Kara Wrought

2008-03-08T13:45:00.000-07:00

Souffle

On Monday night, Kara was supposed to bring me dinner, but when she called to set up the time, I asked if it would be easier if I went to her house--since she has a toddler. We made a plan and I arrived in a light rain just before 6 p.m. as Blake was headed out the door for class. As usual, Kara made a great dinner and it ended with a confection made from chocolate I gave her in January. When I told Laurel about Kara's feast, she exclaimed, "You and your dinner-making friends!" I said, "I know. It's good to be Presbyterian."

God Stories

2008-03-02T14:39:00.000-07:00

Two stories bookend my recent stay at Baylor All Saints Hospital.

Just after 7:15 a.m. on Wednesday, February 13th, a nurse came to take me up to the surgery floor. She told my mother she could come up in the elevator with me. I started to feel anxious as I was wheeled to the elevator and began to ask God, "Please go with me, please go with me." I had a strong impression in response that I was not going to be alone. I felt anxious because this place was not where I wanted my Graves Disease to be resolved. I had prayed to be healed, and I had to accept what was about to happen, so I kept praying, "Please go with me."

When we got out of the elevator, the nurse turned to my mom and said, "This is where you say good-bye." Mom bent down and kissed me twice, then patted my head when she saw a tear fall from my left eye. She took my glasses and I was pushed into a prep room. There, a few more tears fell.

Seconds passed and I saw a man approach my bed. He stood at then foot for a moment, then came to my left side, sat down on a stool and began stroking my arm. I looked over, squinted, and saw that it was Lance, a nurse who is a member of my church. Lance recently completed a master's degree in anesthesiology. I asked him when he got there that day. He replied, "Six o'clock." I said, "God knew you'd be here with me," and I cried more. He went to find out who my nurse would be and came back to tell me that it would be a friend of his, someone he'd gone to school with at TCU. I was relieved to know that someone, besides the surgeon, would be attending to me throughout the procedure.

When I woke up in recovery five hours later, the nurse who was taking care of me was a woman named Jennifer. I recognized her immediately. She is the friend of a friend, and I met her on a couple of occasions over a year ago. In my post-surgery fog, I said, "Jennifer, I thought you took care of the babies." She said, "I did until three weeks ago. Now I take care of the big ones." I was astounded by God's attention to detail--that at the beginning and the end, I had people I knew with me.

What followed over the next five days I have bracketed as the longest night of my life. I had hypocalcemia and had to stay in the hospital much longer than I had anticipated. My calcium levels would not stabilize. Who knew how important calcium is to one's whole physical well-being? I bucked having to stay until the doctor explained that I could die if I went home.

On Sunday morning, the results of my 6 a.m. blood draw showed that my calcium level dropped to 6.3. The lab was concerned that the blood draw was inaccurate since I had been in the 7s at midnight. The blood was tested again and the level registered at 6.8. I had a couple of calcium crashing episodes that morning and was given a high dose of calcium intravenously. The calcium crash feels like a weird, painful shock all over, but the intensity is in the hands, feet, face and chest. My response to the crash was to gush tears, which I cannot do spontaneously.

At noon, my calcium level registered at 8.8--solidly normal. The doctor came in my room about an hour later and said that he was sure the morning's blood draw was wrong, even though it had been tested twice. He explained that it was physically impossible to go from a 6.8 to an 8.8, even with the IV. My mother and I discussed this later, and I said, "Mom, I know I was low. You saw me crashing." She agreed.

That evening, a friend said, "We prayed for you in church this morning. Darwin mentioned you and Jeff Tanner (who has cancer) by name before the sermon." It took a little time for the miracle to register. What was physically impossible with men was possible with God. In the next twenty-four hours, every blood draw registered in the normal range and I was released from the hospital on Monday afternoon.

John, one of the elders of my church, shared this verse with me on Sunday afternoon: "When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you;when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you. For I am the Lord your God,the Holy One of Israel, your Savior." Isaiah 43:2-3

The New Normal

2008-02-26T20:33:00.000-07:00

Patrick and Jacquelyn

2/22/08

Last Wednesday, my brother drove up from Houston to visit my mother and I. He had planned to come Saturday, but I was still in the hospital and the weather (I heard) was bad. Packy spent Thursday with us, and after spending time with friends, joined us Friday morning for breakfast at the Paris Cafe on Magnolia. My brother talks a lot, but mostly directs what he says to my mother who listens with rapt attention. He's not a smiler, but I got him to sort of smile for this picture.

I'm feeling better everyday and my friends can hear it in my voice. I don't feel like playing much yet, but I feel hopeful that in a few weeks I will feel even better. I sleep through the night--which I hadn't done in weeks--and I don't feel jittery anymore. Sickness filtered my life for eighteen months. I'm glad there was a way out, even if it wasn't the way I wanted.

Better Than I Thought

2008-02-21T10:44:00.000-07:00

February 20, 2008

When friends came to see me at the hospital, they'd say, "You look good." I found this comment odd and told my mother that it was mildly insulting if I considered how I normally looked. In hospital, I thought I looked awful. My eyes were inflamed from Graves proptosis, my face was puffy from Prednisone, and I was sleep deprived. Maybe I didn't look well normally? My mother suggested that the perception was relative: "Maybe they thought you were going to look really bad, and were pleased that you didn't." I, vain thing, still thought I looked really bad. My scar, however, was a nice surprise. It was much lower than I thought it was going to be and is no bigger than the surgeon predicted. In time, it should turn into a fine line. Internally at the site, my throat is tender--it hurts a little to laugh, but I've been very grateful that I've had a few things to laugh at since I got out of the hospital on Monday.

One Week

2008-02-06T22:20:00.000-07:00

High Fives in Cubes

2008-01-22T19:56:00.000-07:00

Mark, Jackson, and TJ

My colleague Mark had a visit from his six-month old son today. I was in another office when the visitor arrived, but when I rounded the corner, there stood Jessica and Mark with baby boy in hand. They were looking for me. That blessed my heart. I held Jackson for a few minutes and chatted with his parents. After I returned to my desk, I heard TJ asking the boy for a high five. Smart kid.

Death Threat

2008-01-15T18:39:00.000-07:00

Emmeline

Erin, Rayshelle, and Emmeline
January 2008

During the course of lunch on Saturday, my friend Rayshelle reluctantly talked about her dissertation. As she talked about future plans, she said--more than once--"if I quit," referring to school.

I said, "Rayshelle, you're quitting over my dead body."

She calmly replied, "Jacquelyn, I may have to kill you."

Doug and Jan

2008-01-09T18:32:00.000-07:00

December 2007

Today, my missionary friends returned to their base in Austria after a two and a half year educational furlough. After over a dozen years on the mission field, Doug completed a master's degree at Wheaton. Now, he and Jan are returning to full-time work with Child Evangelism Fellowship. If you're reading this, pray for them. They're going to minister in a country that has less than 100 confessing Christians.

I met Doug and Jan when I was fifteen. They were my trainers at a CEF intensive course on evangelism. At that time, they spoke with a passion of ministering in eastern Europe. I thought they were crazy. They were serious and they proved it with their lives.

When It's Full

2008-01-05T21:38:00.000-07:00

Overland, MO

June 2007

On New Year's Eve, I was at the home of friends. We were huddled by an outdoor fire pit when the hostess asked us to reminisce about the highlight of our lives in the past year. Immediately, I thought, "I don't want to answer this." On the spot, I couldn't recollect a memory that would serve at the zenith of 2007. I'm usually good at recall of both good and bad things, but at that moment, I was wearing the cloak of a hard year. Thank God, I could listen to people tell their stories and not worry about what I was going to say--and I was never called upon because the subject shifted during conversation.

The next day, I was bothered that I couldn't remember something really good in the arc of the year. I took a little inventory: I went to Phoenix four times and each trip marked a celebration. In April, my cousin turned 50 and I surprised her with my visit. In August, a friend married a good man. In October, my father turned 65. And in December, I celebrated the feast of the Incarnation with my family. But what else happened?

I looked at my pictures and the highlight struck me. A darling, bold, articulate two and a half year old girl showed up in several photos. How could I forget the first weekend of June? I went to Missouri to visit college friends and their daughter. My best friend Laurel, who is also a college friend, drove down from central Iowa to join us. We celebrated being together all weekend long and Emma was a little focal point, eager for attention and busy noticing things about us.

On Friday afternoon, the day both Laurel and I arrived, Emma and I were alone on the back patio. She carried at all times a pink lame purse marked with an "E" and she was arranging its contents (Post-It notes and money). I said to Emma, "I like your purse."

She looked up at me and frankly replied, "I like it when it's full."

Recollecting the moment, I found a new category for remembering the times of my life: I like it when it's full.

Quotes of the Year

2007-12-26T20:43:00.000-07:00

"It's not hot." --My Dad to Casie
"But you eat Tabasco." --Casie

"I believe in God and I believe in prayer, and I also believe that God made people to be doctors."--Dr. Lackan

"I'm not being mean-spirited. I'm being jovial." --Laurel

"You should tell him he should love you." --Wells

Last Day, I

2007-12-19T22:04:00.000-07:00

When I was twenty-one, I was in a Spring term seminar led by Dan Sundahl on modernizing the sonnet form. One of my cohorts called me in the fall to enlist me for the writing troops. On an autumn afternoon, I remember Scott's cajoling voice, "C'mon, we need a certain number for the class to make." I remember being scared. I wanted to be writer, but I didn't want to be a writer who shared writing. I signed up anyway.

My maternal grandmother, the last of my grandparents, died on the first Friday night of the Spring semester. I was up late reading, but had enough sleep to meet my best friend Stephanie for breakfast at the dining hall. She was the student manager and when I arrived, she was on the phone. I didn't know it then, but she was talking to my mother. Stephanie was very quiet while we ate and while I read Oswald Chambers aloud after our meal (it was January 23rd in My Utmost). Upon returning to Waterman Residence, I found a package on the mail table--the friend who had pointed the way to Hillsdale sent a volume of Francis Thompson's poems, knowing that I was thinking of the Hound of Heaven. Stephanie was not far behind. She asked if she could study with me. Not long after, the phone in my room rang. I stood on the couch, very chipper, ready to chat with the caller, my mother. Stephanie sat on my bed and the morning sun poured over her.

Later, Stephanie said that it was odd to watch me fall from an inward height. She noted that I was very happy--standing on the sofa, hearing my mother's voice, in possession of a new volume, and in the company of a friend--then she watched me fall from that happiness. My mother's voice was tired when she sighed and said, "Grandma died last night." Still standing on the couch, I cried out, "Stephanie!," and she ran across the room, arms open and folded me in as I sobbed. In a moment, from within the silent house, there was a gathering at the door of my room. Everyone else knew. They were the ones who had given my mother Stephanie's number at the dining hall. My mother later explained, "I didn't want you to be alone."

I missed the first day of the sonnet seminar because I was in Phoenix for the funeral. I returned on Thursday, sought out my professor on Friday, and braced myself for Monday's meeting.

That Spring, I wrote "Last Day," a sonnet about an artist's death. I wrote many other things, but I remember that it was the dying artist who made me bound out of bed in the middle of the night to find the light of my desk and write. The work started with the only line I was allowed to salvage from another sonnet: "My heart can feel the color." That was all, I was told, I could use to write the next work.

Grief is, I think, one of the best things that can happen to an artist. It breaks down your guard for a while and your life comes out in musical notes, in paint, on the stage, and in words. My life came out, for a while, in fourteen line poems.

OPC's

2007-12-09T19:18:00.001-07:00

Thanksgiving 2007

This afternoon, I had a delightful surprise when two little girls walked into a gathering at church with their dad. C and J are two of my favorite OPC's (Other People's Children).

Keri

2007-12-07T18:54:00.000-07:00

The New Boss

When I asked Keri if I could take her picture, she asked, "Why? What are you doing?" I explained that I wrote little vignettes on friends for friends. She said, "I'm scared my head will end up attached to something else in an email." I protested, and while she was reluctant, she gave me a good smile.

I want y'all to see Keri because you've heard me talk about her. She became my manager in late October. I'm very happy to be working with her. She approaches management from a mentoring perspective--she's intentional and deliberate, qualities which I deeply value in an environment where the list of things to learn is very long.

The past two days, Keri has been out of town, and though she was gone, I felt deep gratitude for having a good boss. While I've struggled in the past year to latch on to my profession, I had a purchase this week I haven't had heretofore. Today, after much weakness, I felt like I was moving forward with strength. For this, and for Keri, I am very grateful.

Waiting for God

2007-12-02T18:41:00.000-07:00

Advent Tree

I shocked my mother when I announced that I had purchased an "Advent Tree" because I am the anti-Christmas decoration girl in my mother's house. I explained that since I opted not to make an Advent wreath, I would have a little tree that could be planted in the ground after Christmas. I have a colleague who agreed to plant it at her ranch.

I don't stand upon ceremony to wait to light the different candles, even though I know the virtue of patience is symbolized in the waiting. Everyday, I need the reminders of the hope, joy, peace and love of Christ, and so, I light all the candles at once and pray for each grace to be present in my life.

Isaiah 7:14
"Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign. Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel."

Come quickly, Lord Jesus.

Sacred Brainwash

2007-11-30T21:58:00.000-07:00

A year ago today, I was diagnosed with an autoimmune disease. I went to the doctor this week and was informed that things are not getting better. No surprise--I could feel them, the things that weren't getting better.

When it was confirmed that I was ill last year, I began a short program of sacred brainwash. I wasn't going to die if I got treatment, but things weren't going to stay the same and I needed a rock to sink inside as an anchor. I listened to the hymn "I Need Thee Every Hour" about a hundred times and part of the song stuck in my soul:

I need Thee, O I need Thee, every hour I need Thee
O bless me now, my Savior, I come to Thee.
I need Thee every hour
Teach me Thy will
And Thy rich promises in me fulfill.

I felt like hell. Dustin Salter's long path to dying tempered the pity I felt for myself. I listened to him, too, over and over again, and the words "Now, suffering . . ." from his last sermon stuck in my soul, as well. He said, "Suffering will either make you a beautiful person or a bitter one." I wanted to be beautiful.

Lately, a Fernando Ortega hymn has been my renewal track, and I have listened to him many times over:

Oh Lord, be near me if I should fall
And show me how to believe and to trust You alone
There is no one else beside You
In the darkest night, in the wilderness
There is no one else beside You
At Your feet I cry
In Your arms I rest
There is no one, there is no one
There is no one beside You

This is the antidote to any animosity, any disappointment I feel toward God. I remind myself who he is.

Faithful

2007-11-17T19:54:00.000-07:00

Jennifer and Michelle

November 2007

On Wednesday, the evening Bible study group had its last meeting for this year at Sherry's lovely home. Jennifer and Michelle came even though they had some burdens to bear. Jennifer's husband's business partner died suddenly the night before. Michelle was recovering from the flu and leaving for a month-long course in Mexico the following morning. They were pictures of graceful faithfulness.

After a supper of soup and salad (and pie), we ended our study of I Peter by considering the answer to the question, "Who am I?" While Peter talks often about suffering, he also frequently mentions the importance of obedience to God. There is no obedience to God without an understanding of personal identity.

Who am I, according to Peter?

--Chosen for obedience to Christ (1:2)

--Set free by Christ's precious blood (1:14)

--Born again of an immortal parentage (1:23)

--A living stone (2:5)

--A slave in God's service (2:16)

--Called to God's eternal glory in Christ (5:10)

The list is not exhaustive, but it's a place to start for identity-shaping. The key to understanding identity and obedience is found in chapter 3, verse 15: "Hold Christ in your hearts in reverence as Lord." If we do this, we cannot fail.

Kate: A Reason to Teach

2007-11-11T13:51:00.001-07:00

For a few years, I've wondered about the best student I had at Texas Christian University. Kate was a part of my sophomore composition class during the last semester I taught at TCU. Midway through the term, we met for coffee at the TCU bookstore to talk about opportunities for English majors. She shared that she was leaving TCU because the culture was, in large, one of self-absorbed, party-oriented youth. She wanted to be in a place where people saw education as something that carried them past themselves and into the wider world to do good. Kate wanted to live a meaningful life and she wanted her education to be part of that journey. After the semester ended, I received a thank you note from Kate in the mail. She expressed her gratitude for my commitment to the classroom and for my role in her education. I have the note in my red box of memories.

Since then, I have prayed for Kate now and then, and have wondered where she would end up working after school. I found out yesterday. After a short search on the Internet, I knew that she was well and doing good. She works as an a food bank and coordinates community education to end hunger. I know she'll do more good than she can ever know herself. Students like Kate made teaching wholly worthwhile--she, and her like, are what I miss about being in the classroom. At the same time, I'm glad I'm not in school anymore--I've got other lives to live. But I feel very, very fortunate to have been a small, small part of this great heart's life for a short while.

Wimsey at the Window

2007-10-25T07:47:00.001-07:00

Last November, I attended a Government Services Administration meeting in Phoenix. When my mother was going out the door to take me to the airport, the family dog, Wimsey, became distressed about my mother's departure. She did something none of us had seen her do in the six years she'd been in the family. Her paws went up on the table and she watched out the window for my mother. After this initial anxiety attack, Wimsey started putting her paws on the table any time my parents left--much to my mother's dismay. Mom says there are scratches on the table; Dad says he can't see any. My cousin Bobby took this picture of her. I'd be willing to bet that she was watching my father, her beloved master, leave.

I'm flying to Phoenix today so I can celebrate my father's 65th birthday with him tomorrow. Whenever I visit my parents, I look forward to a "reunion special" with Wimsey. She started out in life as my dog, but she (and my Dad) decided that she didn't want to be a TCU Horned Frog, so she became my father's puppy. When I walk in that door, though, there's crying and twirling and jumping that goes on. Then, it's time to play ball.

It's All From Your Hands

2007-10-15T20:50:00.000-07:00

Tonight at dinner, I was talking with a friend about things not turning out they way I wanted them. She's experienced the same feelings, as I'm sure most post-moderns have. In this age of affluence and luxury, we anticipate that things will fall in place for us because, in our own ways, we have worked for certain things to fall in place. And our work deserves a reward . . . here and now. We spoke of gratitude and how it rose up and fell like waves in our lives.

For me, gratitude gets a smack down when I forget that none of this that I have worked for is really mine. It's all temporary. I used to be able to say thank you quickly when I had very little, comparatively (all Americans experience a type of wealth, even the poorest, not afforded to many people in the world), because I very clearly could see my need to be absolutely dependent on God while a student. As I gathered strength about me, I ceased being as grateful as I'd once been. Ingratitude came as an accretion--not all at once, but in the holding on a many little disappointments. I'm in a place now where I have lost some sense of the depth of grace that is mine, even though I don't have everything I want.

I know I'll get to where I need to be because when I deign to give God my attention (because I have gotten desperate), I get glimpses of eternity and the assurance that I'm being drawn into the truth. Last week, my pastor preached on Christ being done to death, in humiliation, outside the camp. One morning on my way to work, I started to imagine that place--outside the camp--and saw a sliver of what had been done for me. I was given something that I couldn't work for and that I didn't deserve. In my soul, I felt a small well of glory rise up. In that moment, I knew that if I could comprehend what had really been done for me, if I could really grasp the completeness and depth of my redemption, that I would never stop saying, "Thank you."

Nearer, Still Nearer

2007-10-09T16:12:00.001-07:00

At work today, I listened to three Ricky Jones sermons from the RUF Summer Conference. As ever, I must recommend a listen:
http://www.ruf.org/messages/messages.htm

Reverend Ricky said something that grabbed my intellect--I knew what he said was true. I wrote it down to feed it to my heart: "Jesus uses the afflictions of this life to wean us away from the affections of this world and to bring us to his unfailing love."

Have I been brought to the unfailing love of Jesus? I don't feel like I've passed the test of the last eighteen months. That is, I see myself still struggling against the grain of affliction.

Driving to church on Sunday, quite late, I knew as I went that I was exactly where I was supposed to be--the man on the radio spoke of embracing hardship, of being grateful, of laying aside anger and fear and trusting in the grace of the Holy Spirit. I needed to hear that.

Between work and Graves Disease, I'm exhausted. I feel much, much better than I did a year ago, but I also feel worn and spent. My analogy is that of a gas tank with a hole in it. What energy I pick up in rest quickly spills out. I had a car with the same problem years ago. It ran just fine, but I didn't realize that a spark could have sent me up in a blaze with the car. My loving father had the gas tank replaced behind my back (I had left it at my cousin's during Christmas break and he took the car to be repaired). I'm fairly certain that a spark could send me up now.

Perhaps I haven't seen the miracle of hanging on because I'm in the middle of it. I've held on through many prayers in my little afflictions, and through the love of my family and friends. Perhaps all their love was the unfailing love of Jesus being brought very near to me.

"This Is The Stuff"

2007-10-05T21:44:00.001-07:00

Louann and Nadia Li Yun

September 2007

From the beginning of my friendship with vivacious Louann, I knew that she and her husband were waiting to adopt a girl from China. It was a very long process and I often wondered why God didn't hurry things up so an orphaned child could be with her new family sooner rather than later. When I received Nadia's arrival announcement in the mail, I thought, "With God, all things are possible." Though I still don't understand the timing, I know the timing was just right. Her parents wrote, "After fifty-one months of waiting, seven flights and 20,960 miles, we are proud to announce the arrival of our daughter." Thank you, God!

I highly recommend (2 thumbs up) the "Gotcha Day" video, when Nadia was placed in the loving arms of Mike and Louann. The scene will break then build up your heart:
http://www.dwimble.com/video/

Christ the King

2007-10-01T18:54:00.000-07:00

Late Saturday afternoon, my dear friend Penelope married her longtime-beau Steve at Christ the King Episcopalian Church in west Fort Worth. The wedding was beautiful--as lovely as the church that held it. Christ the King was once a country Baptist church one county to the west. Built in 1907, its congregation had dwindled in the 1950s. In 1975, a benefactor had it moved to its present spot on Lackland.

It has been a season of weddings this summer. I'm glad I've been able to rejoice with those who rejoice, especially because all my subjects have been dear to my heart. Next wedding on the agenda is in November--I think that will be the end.

It has also been a little season of baby baptisms. Last Sunday, little Nadia--all the way from China--was baptized, and yesterday, my beloved Henry and his baby sister Eliza were sprinkled with water and covered in prayer.

On top of all these riches in friends, a good gift came my way on Saturday. Terri gave me a copy of the Jesus Storybook Bible by Sally Lloyd-Jones.

Sarum Primer

2007-09-20T04:56:00.000-07:00

When I was enrolled at a little private high school in Phoenix, each choir concert ended with the centuries-old hymn, "God Be In My Head." Alumni from the choir were invited to join in the chorus for this song-prayer. Sung in four part harmony, the acapella verse was rich in beauty. The notes were beautiful, and so were the words. They have remained with me, as I imagine they remained with so many alums who stood with us to sing.

I sang this song to myself as I prepared to haul my tired self down to Fort Worth Pres for Bible study. Here is the prayer:

God be in my head, and in my understanding;
God be in mine eyes, and in my looking;
God be in my mouth, and in my speaking;
God be in my heart, and in my thinking;
God be at mine end, and at my departing.
Sarum Primer, 1558

What She Hoped For

2007-09-17T18:03:00.000-07:00

Anna

September 15, 2007

Another joyous wedding this weekend--this time Anna and Brian (Penelope and Steve's nuptials are in two weeks). Sherry reminded me that at this time last year, Anna was asking us to pray for patience as she waited on God (and Brian) for marriage. The proposal came on New Year's Eve--Anna has been beaming ever since.

At the beginning of the summer, friend Blake, of "Blake and Kara" fame, said, "I could use a good wedding reception." He got his wish. A bunch of Presbyterians had fun dancing with the bride and groom, who could not have looked more smashing, nor more happy.

Horton Foote

2007-09-15T12:42:00.001-07:00

Horton Foote, October 2006

University of Texas at Arlington

On a Sunday afternoon last August, I was paging through the Sunday paper while talking to my mother on the telephone. I spotted playwright Horton Foote's name in the paper, then began talking excitedly. "Horton Foote is coming to Arlington!," I told my mother. "He's coming in October. I can go!" Still on the phone, I marked the date on my kitchen calendar and went on talking about how excited I was. My mother said, "Good, you have something to look forward to."

Foote is my favorite living playwright, a native of Wharton, Texas, which became the setting for many of his stories. The previous October, my cousin gave me a copy of the film The Trip to Bountiful for my birthday. I first saw it when I was fifteen and was struck by the beautiful simplicity of the story--one critic describes Foote's work as elegaic, and it is.

At his lecture in Arlington, the ninety-year old Foote talked about the original stage production of Bountiful fifty years earlier and its genesis into film in the 1980s. His daughter, actress Hallie, sat with him on the stage, and at the end of the lecture, they sang a verse of "Softly and Tenderly" together--a perfect ending.

I've been thinking about Foote often since then--of his commitment to writing the truth about what he knew. I was in Houston this past week for a class and, everyday, I thought about driving down to Wharton, one of hundreds of Texas towns shrouded in history.

Liz

2007-09-04T15:58:00.000-07:00

Liz and I have "prunch" every Tuesday. We eat lunch and pray for each other, hence the name prunch. I'm grateful for her friendship, which has been an encouragement in challenging days. Her disposition is whole-heartedly cheerful and she deeply desires to be a positive influence amongst her friends and colleagues. We have consistently petitioned God for certain things, and while we are waiting on Him, we have learned to bless His name.

In the Fullest Measure

2007-08-26T18:04:00.000-07:00

Spring 2007

The Wednesday after Labor Day, the women's evening Bible study will start at church. Fourteen women have signed up. I'm excited because we have great potential for good discussion and I'm looking forward to hearing about what God is doing in each person's life.

We'll be reading and meditating on I Peter. One thing I've already gained from preparation is an addition to the words of blessing I use to close correspondence. In general, with family and friends, I say "grace and peace." The apostle Peter says, "Grace and peace to you in the fullest measure." I've taken on in the fullest measure--I want that for my beloved and for myself. I trust the Lord will show us all what that looks like.

Click On This

2007-08-23T18:50:00.001-07:00

To hear Joseph Arthur's "In the Sun."

To Dust You Shall Return

2007-08-20T17:13:00.000-07:00

Silas, Alabama

After church yesterday, the usual young family crew had lunch at Jason's Deli. Leigh Anne Salter sat two chairs down from me. I asked her about her trip to Alabama and if she had been to Dustin's grave. She offered to send me pictures, unless, she qualified, I thought it was wierd. I explained that I had pictures of graves hanging in my house. I told Leigh Anne that I like the reminder that a hole in the ground is where my body will eventually end up--it reminds me not to make too much of little stuff.

In August 2004, on my way from St. Louis to Boone, Iowa, I stopped in the tiny village of Atlanta, in Macon County, Missouri. I had plotted out directions to the cemetery at Mount Tabor Baptist Church, where I knew my great-great-greats, George and Ardena, were buried. I started at the easternmost side of the cemetery and went up and down the rows, with a tape recorder in hand for when I found the graves. The afternoon sun was baking my arms and I knew I had to hurry if I was going to make it to my Iowa destination at a reasonable hour. Almost forty-five minutes later, and two-thirds of the way through the cemetery, I found my family's graves. I turned on the recorder and started talking about what I saw; later, I gave the tape to my father. A few months ago, I found out that my other set of great-great-greats from that line, Hiram and Lee Anne Defries Stone, are also buried at Mount Tabor. When I found the graves, I ceased walking the rows because of sun and time. The picture I have on my wall shows my grandmother's headstone, broken off from its pedestal and resting on its back, face up to the sun.

When I opened the picture files of Dustin Salter's headstone, tears came to my eyes. Since talking to Leigh Anne yesterday, I've been ruminating again on the "why?" of the loss of the husband, father, counselor, and friend. Really wrestling with D's death as I know others have. I don't get it. Then, I remember Dustin's words about God's hands from his last sermon, "They are good hands."

Dustin's last sermon, along with others, is available at:
http://ourfrienddustin.blogspot.com/

"Here Is A Place of Disaffection"

2007-08-18T17:27:00.000-07:00

Work desk (with help from T.S. Eliot)

"Time before and time after": I'm putting off feeling overwhelmed. I've got more work than I can do in a manageable period of time.

"In a dim light": I'm where I'm supposed to be for now.

"Investing form with lucid stillness": Trusting God for more clarity, strength, and hope.

Hello, Chargers

2007-08-06T18:26:00.001-07:00

Laurie, JPS, Julie, and Ellen

Another wedding. This one was in my hometown, Phoenix. Julie moved to the Valley to teach after we graduated--I meandered my way back for a short while and we reconnected in early 1995. After eleven years, on the mission field in Germany, Julie wed her marvelous match, Paul, on Saturday. I had the honor of reading the Scripture from Colossians 3. I really wanted to read from the book of Revelation, thinking, "And I opened the scroll and saw . . . ," had more pizazz. I had not seen Laurie and Ellen since we graduated in May of 1993 from our beloved Hillsdale College in south central Michigan. We had fun in fellowship again. The day was all goodness, mercy, and love.

Looking Toward Home

2007-07-30T17:30:00.001-07:00

Cousins, August 2006

Last summer, when my siblings and I hosted an open house in Phoenix for my parents 40th anniversary, I got to spend some time with my 12-old cousin, Casie. She has always been a skinny mini, so I've been able to pick her up with ease. I think she broke 60 pounds when she was 11. I will see Casie this weekend when I visit Phoenix for the wedding of my college friend, Julie. I think Casie may be past the picking up stage because she's fixin' to be 13 in a few weeks.

The passage of time is astounding. I very clearly remember being awakened in the early morning hours by my mother. "They've been at the hospital all night. It's time," she said, the light from the hall breaking the darkness. I sat bolt-upright in bed, pulled myself together in a few minutes and we were off to the hospital. When I got to my cousin Irma's room, I wasn't prepared to see a woman literally vibrating in pain. I reached over to touch her, she flung my hand away. I left the room until after she had her epidural. When I came back, she asked me, "Where have you been?" This was around 7:30 a.m. People from the families came and went. My aunt said, "Bring us a girl, Irma." I can still hear that echo through time.

At 9:30, pushing commenced. By 12:30, still no baby. The forceps came out--a very unpleasant sight that led to a good end: a big push and we had a baby. I was at my cousin's shoulder with her video camera. The nurse said, "Here he is." Looking through the camera lens, I thought, "That's not a boy!" And, it wasn't.

Sally Is A Bride

2007-07-22T18:45:00.000-07:00

July 21, 2007

Sally and Neill were married in a lovely ceremony last night. Here's the beautiful bride, wearing her mother's veil, at the reception at the Fort Worth Club.

Henry at Sonic

2007-07-09T17:30:00.000-07:00

Henry, age 4.8

On Saturday, I took Madeline and Henry to see Ratatouille. This spring, Henry was insistent that he wanted me to babysit him (which his mother relays with, "I'm not trying to get you to watch my kids. I just want to tell you that Henry said . . ."). I wanted to take the kids out and the movie as a venue worked well. For a four year old, an almost two-hour feature is too long. I was asked, in a whispery voice, three times, "Is the movie almost over?"

As we walked toward the theater, I pointed out a penny on the ground. Henry picked it up and took it to a nearby fountain. "I'm going to make a wish," he said.

After tossing in his penny, Henry told us what he wished for: ice cream.

Madeline said, "You should have wished that you'd behave so you can get some ice cream."

Ice cream was the promised treat after the movie "if you behave."

Here we are at Sonic, and all is well.

Convivio

2007-07-02T19:20:00.000-07:00

Angela became a Doctor of Philosophy last Wednesday. A few colleagues gathered at her dissertation director's house on Saturday night to send her off to her new post at Whitworth College in Spokane. Here, we toast her success. She's going to do well--she's passionate about teaching writing.

I felt a bit of trepidation about going because I didn't get a job teaching at a college, and I dread the question, "What are you doing now?" In the presence of my teaching friends, I struggle with the feeling that I didn't try hard enough to be a professor. But two years of trying was enough for me. I let go of the fear of the opinions of others and went to the party. I'm so glad I did--I received a good gift in seeing Angela before she left.

Map of the Problematique

2007-06-29T16:53:00.000-07:00

This is Eli, whom I refer to as the cutest boy in the world. He was practically kidnapped today--by his owner, who took him to Richland Chambers for 11 days. I was hoping that Eli would be forgotten and left behind, at least for a few days. Not so. I don't like it when the dogs, and their family, aren't here.

My small group planned to go to a concert in the Botanical Gardens, but rain poured down in the late afternoon. We cancelled and I'm dealing with the "I didn't think I was going to be here this evening" parallel. I have to enter into the quiet and tell myself, "This must be the way things are supposed to be."

I was very encouraged a couple of weeks ago when I listened to an mp3 of a Donald Miller lecture. He said that loneliness existed before the fall. That word resonated in my heart and resolved a struggle that began when I left my parents' home many years ago. I know that as a human I'm made for fellowship, and I know that fellowship is intentional. Sometimes, the plans don't work out--like tonight. Whatever loneliness I feel is natural. There's no one here and I feel it. It's a feeling and it will pass.

Rebecca and I are going to walk in the morning--unless it's raining. The chances are precipitation are lower than they were today. I told her that I needed the exercise and the fellowship with someone who isn't in the real estate business.

Humility Is Endless

2007-06-19T18:08:00.000-07:00

At work, I've been listening to Rev. John Stone via ear buds plugged into the speaker of my desktop. The sermons are on justification--what Christ has accomplished for us through His death.

I was in a twist when I began to listen--still tired from working many hours over the weekend, including staying up until 12:30a on Monday and rising at 5:30a. Sleep deprivation didn't set a good tone for peace of soul. By noon, my heart was beating hard from stress. My weary eyes were peering into the future. I had deadlines to meet, then more work waiting for me at home (the writing project, which has not yet paid off--but it will). I had to prepare for the St. Louis trip. In frenzy, I couldn't anticipate the journey with joy. I've read, many times, that perfectionism is a joy stealer. And, on that afternoon, I had the dread feeling that I wasn't doing things right. Listening to John Stone helped me untwist. If you have the opportunity, listen. The truth will strengthen your heart. http://www.ruf.org/messages/messages.htm

Hearing the word of the Lord spoken out loud and believing in the reward of its application helped me come undone in the best way. My heart stopped beating hard, I heard and received hope, and my eyes were revived. I could see that the work of my hands had to rest in Christ. I need to hear this every, every day. I can't keep going on if I don't.

Yet, I try to live by my own strength and I'm confounded in my own means. I think, "If only you'd speak louder or come closer, God, I wouldn't forget you." Jesus understood that His life was in the Father. I need that same humility. I know that, but I forget it. Help me to remember.