The Garden...or the Good Times? (June blog)

 

         “Summertime, and the livin’ is…” stressful!
          All of us who live in Montana’s short beautiful summer know what that means—all the outside work, all the outdoor fun, all the visiting company, all the places to go, all the family reunions, weddings, celebrations—happen all at once.
          It’s enough to make a type A, easily distracted, perfectionist like me little crazy. I find myself losing concentration on what I’m doing as I scroll long lists of all the other things I have to do. Or beating myself up with how little I do perfectly or even very well.
          For example, I spent a recent weekend at a grandson’s soccer tournament worrying about the flowers I needed to plant, regretting the extra day it took to watch him play in their division championship.
          How foolish!  For I got to see something that doesn’t come along every day: his team actually winning that championship. I saw his big grin as they hung a medal around his neck and posed for a joyous picture with his team.
          That was worth all the flowers in the world.
          I learned years ago, during Montana’s short, glorious summers, that I can have a perfect yard or I can enjoy the season. I can’t do both. It’s a lesson I have to re-learn every year.
          Now I’m not the gardener my mother was. Years of battling with Montana’s fickle weather—killing frost in July, snow in August—have worn out my enthusiasm for growing vegetables. But there are flower beds around the house; they must wear something besides weeds. There’s enough left of my mother’s perfectionism to want them to look good.
          However, if I want to have peace and enjoy this season, I must lay that down.
          So yes, my flowers are finally in. But no, the colors I wanted were gone by the time I got to the nursery. I see weeds everywhere. I’ll pull most of them… eventually. And trim the long grass around the garden…eventually.
          The garden is a long way from perfect, but it’s good enough.
          If I want perfection I’ll walk around my neighborhood and admire my neighbors’ gardens. They won’t be mine. But that’s okay.
          Life is short and precious.
          Years from now, I won’t recall what kind of garden I planted or how it looked. But I will always remember that tournament and the joy on my grandson’s face.
          Summers are short and precious, too. I pray for the wisdom to let the stress, the perfectionism, the distraction go. To enjoy the people, the fun and the season.
          Before all is gone.

           

           

A Prayer for Graduation Season (Column)

Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it. Proverbs 22:6 RSV

           It’s graduation season again—something I’ve made an object of prayer ever since my sons’ schoolmate was killed in a horrible accident at a pre-graduation party. Two days before graduation that year, we went to a funeral. I’ll never forget the shock and sorrow on those young faces.

          This year, my prayers have special fervency. My oldest grandson is among the graduates.
         We watch this young bird teetering on the edge of the nest, flapping his wings, eager to soar into the open sky. As all families do, we feel pride in his achievements, joy in the blooming promise of his life and a shiver of fear.
          Years ago, I read the story of a wildlife biologist who was following a nest of golden eagles in Texas. As he watched one day, one of the adolescents plummeted toward the ground in a full stoop, diving at a high rate of speed with wings folded back. To his horror, the bird didn’t pull up in time. There was a cloud of dust and feathers.
          The young eagle was dead.
          We who have made the transition to adulthood know it holds serious, sometimes deadly, risk. Dangers and predators wait to gobble up the foolish and unwary. That’s downright scary for those of us who watch.
          And we’re also aware, as they are not, of just how tough life in the adult world can be. I remember the moment, months after my own graduation, when I looked at our tiny apartment, our income to match and found myself wishing for my old college life where someone else paid the bills.
          Yet this is their time, their moment. Like young birds on the nest edge, they vibrate with joy and expectation. Everything in them calls them out…and we who love them wouldn’t hold them back for the world.
          That’s where our prayers come in.
          We turn to the One Who created these young birds, Who has known and cared for them since before their birth, Who holds them in His loving hands. And we trust that this ancient promise proves true, that the foundation we have laid of love and wisdom and truth will hold when the storms and challenges of life threaten them, as we know they will.
          This is graduation season and we …rejoice.

First published in Bozeman Daily Chronicle, May 14, 2017.

         

         

A Whole Life Ahead (Easter Column)

Behold, two men stood by them in dazzling apparel; and as they (the women) were frightened and bowed their faces to the ground, the men said to them, “Why do you seek the living among the dead? He is not here but has risen.” Luke 24:4,5 RSV (Ancient text added)

          Clearly, it’s the last thing they expected.
          They had watched Him die, these women from Galilee, saw Joseph lay the body in his own tomb, making careful note of where it was.         
         Reeling from grief and shock, (think 9/11 here) they must have spent that sad Sabbath in tears, wondering, “But why? But how? But we thought…? But where is God?” as they feared the next strike, the tread of soldiers’ sandals on the stairs, the pounding on the door.
          Their situation was beyond awful. Marked by dress and accent and occupation, they were strangers in a city in uproar. Should they run…and call attention to themselves? Should they hide…with Judas still out there? He’d betrayed Jesus, after all; the rest of them were easy.     
          But there was work to be done—sad, ugly work. And like women everywhere, they got to it: gritted their teeth, picked up their spices and oils, and crept out to the tombs. Early, so they wouldn’t be seen.
          Whereupon they were greeted by the most wonderful news the world has ever heard: “He lives; He is risen!”
          Imagine.
          A precious picture book of mine, entitled “He Was One of Us,” pictures Mary Magdalene running from the tomb, her face alight, yellow flame circling her body.
          The poem accompanying it reads, “She’s afire with joy! Flames burst out of her/She starts living at last.”
          That’s how it must have been.
          Though their hard-nosed, practical brothers from Galilee didn’t believe the women at first, thinking it “an idle tale” (vs. 11) they soon became so convinced that they went out and “turned the world upside down.” (Acts 17:6)
          Something happened: something unexpected, amazing, wonderful, life-altering.
          The Resurrection.
          And that’s what we celebrate today: not bunnies and bonnets and eggs and chocolate, fun as all of that is. We celebrate something far more profound and important, something the disciples didn’t even understand on that first miraculous Sunday. We celebrate the incredible promise Jesus made the night before He died:
          “…because I live, you will live also.” (John 14:19)  Let those words soak in slowly.         
          The One Who conquered death offers life eternal to all who believe. Easter was not just then and there, but here and now.
          Christ is risen! Like Mary Magdalene, we can live…at last!

FATHER GOD: It’s Easter! Let us party like we have a whole future ahead of us. Because we do! Amen.

First published in Bozeman Daily Chronicle, April 16, 2017.

         

         

         

What Now?

Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland. Isaiah 43:18,19 NIV

           It’s Wednesday morning after Easter and I’m not on deadline. After 32 years of Wednesday mornings, that feels more weird than I can tell you.

          I knew this would happen…eventually. A weekly Christian column in a secular newspaper was too endangered a species to last forever.  Sooner or later, it would be done.

          The rules have changed. Now I’m to write only once a month.

          The ground has shifted under my feet. It feels like God is doing a new thing, but I don’t quite perceive it. Not yet. I’m in transition. Like all folks in this odd place, I wonder:

          What now?
          I’m sure the disciples wondered the same thing in this time after Easter.         
         Though Jesus had tried to warn them, they weren’t prepared for that awe-full week in Jerusalem. If they thought about it ahead of time, they probably imagined Jesus would finally declare Himself as the Messiah they’d waited for, the one who would free Israel from the hated Romans. They would stand with Him then and fight--perhaps even to die. But arrest, trial, crucifixion?
          No! Not that.
          Yet it happened. All their expectations crushed, Jesus’ followers fled Gethsemane like scared rabbits, hiding wherever they could, fearing they were next on the execution list. Peter denied he even knew Jesus. And I’ll bet he wasn’t the only one.
          Then came Sunday, the first breath of hope. Mary claimed to have seen Him; the other women, Peter and John met angels who told them unbelievable news: Jesus had, indeed, risen from the grave.
          The news was almost too good to be true. They were still hiding behind locked doors when Jesus appeared to them all. (See John 20:19)
          There was great joy, but no instruction. As they came together still reeling from the events with its roller coaster of emotions--terror, grief, anger, joy--I’m sure they asked:
          What now?
          The gospels tell different stories about what happened next. Likely, when it was safe, they blended in with the crowds leaving the city and staggered back to Galilee. Some of them probably tried to resume their former lives. Peter and his colleagues even went fishing. (See John 21.)
          It didn’t work. The ground had shifted. God had another plan. He was doing a new thing.
          But they weren’t able to perceive it. Not yet.
          They were only told they would be witnesses. (See Luke 24:48.) How this was to happen, they didn’t know. God would make a way through the uncertainty around them, step by step.
          As He will for me. For I’ve been called as His witness, too. He will reveal how I’m to go on, step by step.
          What I must do now is relax…and trust Him.

         

Keep On Keeping On (March Column)

…is your life full of difficulties and temptations? Then be happy, for when the way is rough, your patience has a chance to grow. So let it grow and don’t try to squirm out of your problems. For when your patience is finally in full bloom, then you will be ready for anything, strong in character, full and complete. James 1:2-4
    

          Sometimes the most powerful thing you can do is to put one foot ahead of another.

           That insight came to me through a great little devotional book (“Promises of Hope for Difficult Times”) by Jane Kirkpatrick.

          She says she asked a group of second graders to describe what the word “powerful” meant to them. After discussing the usual definitions, one little boy “…in the front row took my breath away when he said, ‘Oh no. Powerful is when you want to quit but you keep going.’”

           Wow. Took my breath away, too.

           For I have been going through a difficult period, as you know. And when you’re in one it often feels as if everything is wrong. The losses just seem to pile up and threaten to overwhelm you.

           Last week, along with the recurring illness, I found myself grieving winter. Yes, I know I “should” be happy for the first signs of spring, but I’m not. I loved the fun I used to have in the winter, the people I used to have it with. Lately, winter—and skiing--is over ‘way too soon. And the people I cherish have died or are unable to ski anymore. For example, our old leader now has dementia, drifts away daily. My heart breaks.

          I must accept a new normal…there, as well as other areas of my life. I’ve never accepted changes well. There are moments when I just want to quit.

          However.

         Every athlete knows that more time in practice means better performance in competition. Those muscles must be stretched and worked and taught to endure so you won’t quit when the going gets hard. The results are worth the pain.

          James tells us these life-trials are similar. We have a chance to stretch and work out our muscles of faith. We must develop patience, which Kirkpatrick says means “endurance with calmness.” 

           If I want that patience and power, if I want to be “ready for anything, strong in character, full and complete,” then I can’t quit, either.

          I must keep on fighting for my health, seeking moments of joy in my right-now life, trusting that my God is with me, that He loves me and has better days ahead.

          I must believe the results will be worth the pain.

 FATHER GOD: Help me to keep on keeping on. Amen.

First published in Bozeman Daily Chronicle, March 26, 2017.








         

God's Love On Valentines Day (February Column)

If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him! (Jesus) Matthew 7:11 NIV

          The best gifts are the ones you don’t expect.

          Frankly, after 55+ years of Valentines Days, I wasn’t expecting much of an evening. True, I’d made reservations for a sleigh ride and dinner at the 320 Ranch, but I’d been fighting a cold all week. How good could it be?

          Turns out we had the most fun we’ve had in a long time.

          For it was at the 320 and the mountains behind it that we’d enjoyed our best times together as a family:  camping, riding, packing in a hunting camp, complete with a turkey, every Thanksgiving. Spending the evening at the ranch, going on a sleigh ride, seeing some elk on the hillside, brought those good memories back.

          We laughed and reminisced, sharing the old stories with each other and some of the guests, ate a great dinner in those fondly-familiar surroundings. Even my cold decided to relax its grip for a few hours.

          Then we drove home, full and happy, under the star-spangled winter sky.  It was, as the French say, “a good moment.” One I won’t forget.

          It felt like a gift from our Father-God.

          Why would He choose to bless us in this way? I don’t know. It certainly wasn’t anything I did…except to make the plan. And my best-laid plans “gang a-glee” as often as everyone else’s. That this one didn’t, that the evening was, in fact, far better than I’d hoped for, had everything to do with God and nothing with me.

          How could that happen? Why would the God of the far-flung universe notice me at all, much less love me—and you--like that? Why would He give us something we didn’t expect just to make us happy? I can’t answer these questions; I never will. Gifts like this never explain His love, only confirm it.

          Jesus gave us the reason: our Father’s love. Don’t we, as human parents, delight in giving gifts to our children? Doesn’t it warm our hearts to see our children smile? Don’t we get special joy out of giving “just because?” Why wouldn’t God delight in gifting His kids that way? 

          Sometimes His gifts are easy to see, as this one was. Other times, they are more subtle, small things hard to describe. Either way, you know He has reached out and touched you with His love.

          Our part is to recognize those gifts and be grateful.

          As I am doing now.

FATHER-GOD: Thank You for Your unexpected Valentines gift.  Amen.

First published in Bozeman Daily Chronicle, February 19, 2017.

         

Fighting Fear with Faith (January Column)

Have I not commanded you? Be strong, vigorous, and very courageous. Be not afraid, neither be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go. Joshua 1:9 Amplified

      Much better, thank you. Turns out I “just” had the same bad cold a lot of us are having…and I’m over it. The doctor looked at my sinuses yesterday and said they looked good.
      Forgive me; I panicked. It’s something I’m subject to. When something bad presents itself, I go to the worst case scenario and scare myself to death. Anxiety seems so natural to me that I almost don’t know who I am unless I’m afraid of something.
     I think the tendency runs in my family. My grandmother’s fears were legendary. I remember my aunt teasing her about locking a window in her apartment over a nine-story drop. “Mother,” she laughed. “It would take a human fly to break in here!”
     I believe her son, my father, was subject to the same anxieties and tried to drink himself brave. The alcohol, of course, only caused him (and us) grievous problems…and didn’t work. So I have a reason but not an excuse.   
     I realize that giving in to that besetting fear has stolen my peace, confidence and joy in life. This past year of illness, for instance, has left me in such a state that I’ve been afraid to take on anything new or make plans for trips…“for fear I’ll get sick.” I even was afraid to keep reading a novel I was enjoying because the hero was in such danger I feared he wouldn’t survive. And it was only a story…about people in the 13th century! Good grief.
     My Dad and my grandmother showed no evidence of fighting their fear with faith.
     But with God’s help, I intend to. I recognize that, in this broken world we live in, there’s always something to be afraid of. And our Enemy makes sure we know what it is. But courage is forward motion in the presence of fear. I can feel fear but I don’t have to allow it to control me. I can, as Joyce Meyer says, “Do it afraid.”
     Why? Because I can make a choice to believe in God. I can believe God loves me and He will take care of me, no matter what. Just before this famous command to Joshua, God said, “…I will be with you; I will not fail or forsake you.” (1:5)
     I cannot trust my circumstances to bring me the peace and joy I need. But I can trust my God. He’s been faithful all my life; He will be faithful now.
FATHER GOD: Help me meet fear with faith. Amen.
First published in Bozeman Daily Chronicle, January 22,2017.