I said . . . yes, of course!

Last night, at around 7:30 pm, on the second floor of an old, beautiful hotel, as we were sitting next to a brilliantly lit Christmas tree, David asked me to be his wife! After I recovered, I said I'd be honored.

It wasn't yet Christmas, and so I was slightly surprised, especially since a sinus headache had put me in a foul mood earlier in the day. And since I was speaking and singing in Sunday School this morning, I had grand plans to be in bed by about 9 pm. Riiiiight.

David, the early bird, woke up about 6 am Saturday--by 7 am he was asking my mother if he could marry her daughter. At 7:30 am, he was scheduled to have breakfast at IHOP with a very good friend of mine named Jack. He and his wife have become like family to me over the last several years, and Jack wanted to have a little one-on-one time with David, to get to know him a bit better and make sure he truly is the one I've been waiting for! After over 2 hours at breakfast with Jack, David had clued him in on his intentions and showed him the diamond.

Then David began a long day of waiting . . .

Our date started with a wonderful tour of a local garden that featured Christmas trees around the world. Next, the first-rate Cuban/Spanish restaurant where we had our first date. We reminisced about our first evening together in June and laughed at how comfortable we'd become. For dessert, we reordered a scrumptious dish of the most heavenly dark chocolate. My headache was easing, and my mood was definitely improving...

A nice walk through downtown, then a stroll through the hotel until David found his spot.
Surreal, yes. Happy, absolutely! Thankful? I am!

For God in his perfect way, in his perfect timing, has brought two "mature" never-been-marrieds together. We pinched each other to make sure it was real. It is.

When I called mom last night, she said she'd been praying for David for 38 years. "But I'm only 35!" I insisted. "Oh, 36 years then." Turns out she was asking God to bring me a godly spouse while she was pregnant.

Thanks, mom! And thanks be to God, who gives us immeasurably more than we could ask or imagine.

Surprise, Surprise

Sometimes people in love just make you...roll your eyes. Unless, perchance, you are the person in love. When you are the smitten, your behavior makes perfect sense. Trust me!

You do what are normally senseless things like stealing a kiss from your paramour in a crowded concert hall. You spend time dreaming up the perfect meal you might cook for your sweetie and staying up way past your bedtime talking with him or her, dreaming about your future together. And strangely, you usually aren't that tired the next day. It's the way of love, at least when it is new and fresh.

And occasionally a man might even drive three hours north in the middle of a Thursday to surprise his beloved with a dozen red roses, just because. This is the situation I found myself in a few weeks ago, when the receptionist called to tell me I had a package up front.

It makes me smile now, but at the moment I saw those roses and David sitting next to them, I was shocked and confused. I had just talked to him an hour before, while he was at "work." I halted in my tracks and mumbled something about not understanding--it was the perfect ambush, a delightful surprise.

Another case of shock and awe

Recently I was asked to teach a Sunday School class on Mary, the mother of Jesus. I knew it would definitely require research and study--I also knew it would personally be a great opportunity to discover more about her myself during this Advent and Christmas season.

So I'm digging in, eager to know more about her, to unearth her motives, her mind, and her heart.

And what I see is shocking, in all its clarity: a mere slip of a girl, 13 or 14, mostly forgettable and unusable in her day, except as a wife, which she would soon become. It would bring her dignity; it would offer her in some ways, a new life.

So, one day, out of the blue, an angel approaches you and says you're highly blessed. Your mind racing, you struggle to grasp the message you are given. But instead of doubting, you wonder, "How can this happen to me? I haven't had sex."

And when the angel explains that you will become pregnant by the Holy Spirit, you absorb his words about you...about your relative Elizabeth.....about nothing being beyond Yahweh.

And of all the things you could say, YOU SAY YES!

You put the request of God above your family, who will most certainly want nothing to do with you. You put God's plan above your own safety, knowing you could easily be stoned. You put Joseph's promise to you in jeopardy--perhaps he will only divorce you quietly...

YOU SAY YES. And the really amazing thing is, Joseph does, too. He also listens to the angel, and decides he will marry you still, giving up his right to intimacy with you until your baby is born, playing second-fiddle, serving as your midwife, fleeing with you and Jesus to keep you safe, giving all of us another first-class lesson in obedience.

But what was harder, Mary? Becoming the mother of Jesus, or moving from your role as mother to the role of disciple. Even when Jesus left you out to pursue his ministry, even when you stood by the cross, watching him die as surely as you had been present to his birth. And after he was long gone to heaven, serving faithfully in the early Church.

Here is the lesson for me about Mary. When the shock of her life came, and she was asked to give up everything for obedience, she didn't hesitate. At such a tender age, her heart was already set on faithfulness to God. The decision was made before the angel frightened her that day.

I only hope my heart would also be this open to the Holy Spirit's lead. I want what Mary has. Surprises or not. Even if it makes me uncomfortable. And even if it costs.

The giving of many thanks

So, was your Thanksgiving thanks-filled? I absolutely adore the minutes after everyone sits down to enjoy a thanksgiving feast and family members take their turns offering up what they are most grateful for.

I cherish these moments because they remind you what make your loved ones tick; I cling to their words because our daily lives often seem more filled with the grumblings within and without than the unadulterated gratefulness that is infinitely more becoming.

I love the giving of thanks.

I also love the sight of my main squeeze cooking up a juicy turkey and carving it for his family. (He's the one smiling; his brother is the one hiding!) I enjoyed meeting David's mother and father, and the sister and niece I also met for the first time this weekend. David's nearest brother and his family are thoughtful, intentional and interesting. And I look forward to meeting his other brother's family who lives out West someday in the future.

We also traveled to my sister Julie's house for another celebration on Saturday; the food was amazing, the fellowship even better.

I missed dad this weekend (as I imagine most of you missed a loved one who has passed on), and I took Shakespeare's words to heart: "He that lacks time to mourn, lacks time to mend." And so on Thanksgiving Day, after the family had left, and David and I sat together, the tears flowed.

Though the pain over the wrongness of our separation cut through my heart, the sobs also reminded me of the gift of dad's presence in my life for over 34 years. And the hope-filled assurance that I will see him again, when all wrong is made so very right.

Thank you, lover of my soul, for this deep assurance. Thank you for life, love, and even loss--for it reminds me of the gifts of life and love. I am thankful, even for the opportunity to miss these gifts, and to long for them all the more.

quote for today

“Just the knowledge that a good book is awaiting one at the end of a long day makes that day happier.”
–Kathleen Norris, Hands Full of Living

So, what good book currently awaits you at the end of the day?

Thanksgiving recap later this week...

Drink Reed's & make your stomach happy!

I drink this crazy brew every week--Reed's ginger brew--which is technically ginger ale, but with up to 25 grams of ginger in a bottle, it's like a thousand times stronger than Vernors or something.
I'm addicted, really. But this is one addiction that's actually good for me: with fruit juice instead of refined sugar, some way powerful ginger, and herbs and spices, all brewed batch by batch, it's a killer complement to any meal.
At Reed's, they treat their products like fine wine and take their health benefits seriously. David and I love the way the ginger helps you digest a meal (other health benefits extolled at reedsgingerbrew.com).
I dare you to try the "extra ginger" brew...or if you'd rather start slowly, go for the raspberry ginger brew. It delivers a happy kick that will make your stomach smile.
It's available at health food stores, and now some grocery stores, like Meijer. Drink up, then post your review here!

One Enchanted Evening

Last weekend, my fine-looking boyfriend and I had a magical time. It started with the culinary delights of The Melting Pot, a fondue restaurant.

The truth is, we are both foodies at heart, and neither of us could get over the fantastic array of vegetables and exotic cheese; the beauty of filet mignon, shrimp, and pork in a mojo broth; the exquisite richness of dark chocolate raspberry fondue covering our skewered bananas, cheesecake, and marshmallows, paired with the perfect port wine. Ooo-laa-laa!

And this is where I give you a secret from our waiter that is priceless when it comes to enjoying an evening of fondue--dump at least one of your courses in the pot, no skewers required. That is the trick when you're feeling hungry and want your food straightaway without having to slowly cook it yourself. We employed this trick with our vegetables, retrieving them with our slotted "rescue" spoon a minute and a half later, and enjoying quick fruits with almost no labor.

One final word: allow three hours from start to finish.

Then it was on to the Celtic Woman concert to enjoy a musical ensemble comprised of five Irish female artists: vocalists Chloë Agnew, Órla Fallon, Lynn Hilary and Lisa Kelly, and fiddler Máiréad Nesbitt. The group's repertoire ranges from traditional Celtic tunes to modern songs.

Fiddler Mairead Nesbitt was spellbinding, nymphlike, and joyous as she brandished her instrument, dancing and twirling while she effortlessly mastered the fiddle--in high heels, no less. It reminded me of how I believe we will offer up our giftedness in heaven, with abandon, no reservations, and with unimaginable verve. The voices of the others were airy, perfect, and sometimes strong. There was Swanee River and You Raise Me Up, Irish tunes (but of course) and rocked-out percussion sequences.

You will wonder if you should pay $40, $50, or $60 to see this wonderful sight--I can only tell you that I am a lifetime music lover, and I have never experienced its equal.

An enchanted evening, indeed. Thanks, David! You're the best.

quote for a Thursday

“Life is not orderly. No matter how we try to make life so, right in the middle of it we die, lose a leg, fall in love, drop a jar of applesauce.” Natalie Goldberg

My question...so why do we still try to control our lives so much, knowing that we can't? Please post...

To the overscheduled, he says "come"

Sometimes I get too busy and I forget so quickly how much Jesus loves me, how much he desires for me to sit quietly with him. To discover the secrets of the abundant life he desperately wants to give you and me.

And, when my life gets too crowded and the word "margin" begins to refer only to settings on my Microsoft Word documents, I can get sad, anxious, and angry all at once.

Like this week, when a woman on the phone pressed me on something, and I retorted, "Well, OBVIOUSLY NOT." (Ugly.) Or the morning I woke up and felt like I wanted to cancel every appointment or obligation on my calendar for the next 6 months or so. (Seriously.) Or how about the way I so easily take on not only my own stuff, but the burdens and expectations of others, forgetting to bring all my anxieties to my heavenly Father, knowing and believing he will take care of them. (Pride masquerading as "genuine concern.")

Busted!

But even when I find myself in the ugliest of places, Jesus' invitation from Matthew 11:28-30 stares back at me, unflinchingly, from my open Bible, and I know he's inviting me back to a place of freedom and life.

Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened (yes, I'm drowning under the load!)

...and I will give you rest. (I like to think of it as cool water and shade after a hot, dusty hike)

Take my yoke upon you (my way of doing life) and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.

(And all those words, "rest," "easy," and "light" bring peace and a smile.)

So, consider this, on the days, weeks, or months I choose busyness or productivity over sweet rest in Jesus, I am not being obedient. I am taking a load that is not mine to bear--and it shows. To my coworkers, to the man God has given me, to my girlfriends, to the friends who haven't checked into what this abundant God-life is all about. Especially to them.

And so, to the overscheduled and harried, he says "come." That is why this week I have made way for more margin, more time just to be. And that is precisely why I canceled today's Biblestudy, even though I always look forward to it. Because sometimes you have to choose the best over the very good.

Sometimes the most Jesus-like thing a girl can do is to stop and say "It's time for rest."

"Isn't it lovely?" or "Suzie falls in love at last"

True love comes quietly, without banners or flashing lights. If you hear bells, get your ears checked.
Erich Sega

Like the measles, love is most dangerous when it comes late in life.
Lord Byron

Yes! Alright already! I have fallen in love and left blogging behind for too long, until friends and acquaintances and my honey himself have begged me to write at last, to fill in all the delicious blanks in this love story, to give them reasons to smile coyly and whisper, "Well, Suzie, it's about time..."

About 6 months ago, I was on eharmony.com, partly as a diversion from the impending grief our family was experiencing at the thought of losing dad--partly because, although my dating life seemed bleak (or non-existent), I still thought there might be a single of the male species out there, over 30 years old, who loved Jesus, didn't fear commitment, and might someday love me. Maybe.

I wasn't holding my breath, and I was carefully screening all potential applicants. Within a month, I had closed out a bevy of 43-year-olds (or it seemed like they were all 43) who either weren't serious in their search or just didn't seem right for Suzie.

And so, as my options narrowed drastically, a 41-year-old from the state of Indiana named David, remained open. He looked kind, he appeared to have a good heart, and to my surprise, it seemed like I had the qualities he was looking for.

Then came the first phone call, an awkward event, where each party listens politely, and laughs more than usual. He was interesting, this David. But was he determined enough to call back? Sensitive enough for a grieving heart? Confident enough to appreciate a confident woman?

In short, yes! And so began the process of phone calls and visits, the shared interests of following Jesus, and appreciating music, fine cuisine and dark chocolate--and discovering differences, and admiring each other carefully from a distance.

I am not sure when this fondness turned to love, for it was gradual and sweet. Was it the beautiful bike ride around Mackinac Island? The day he slipped a "ring pop" on my finger and asked me to go steady? Could it be the way David, although unsure of what to say or do, stepped into the fresh grief mom and I were experiencing? Perhaps it was the day I realized that although dad had never met David, I knew for certain dad would appreciate David's strong work ethic and his faithful heart; his easy laughter and the way he opens my car door, just one of the ways he gently cares for me.

It was not a moment in time for me, but a slow understanding and awakening. I write of it now because writer Don Miller once said that if you like someone you should tell them. How much more true, I think, if you love them, and they are in a place to receive that love. Especially when they have first extended their love to you.

Of course, CS Lewis also writes that love is dangerous, and that if you want to protect your heart, you will not give it to anyone, not even an animal. But I have learned through the years, as Lewis did, the life of the imprisoned, guarded heart is no way to live. And so I choose love, no matter what comes.

Not long ago I held David's hand and said "God is good, all the time." And he said "All the time, God is good."

I'm still here!

Despite the lack of posts, I'm still here...more to come this week on this whirlwind of a life.

And for now, a quote for the day:

"One ought, every day at least, to hear a little song, read a good poem, see a fine picture, and if it were possible, to speak a few reasonable words."
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Author Madeleine L'Engle goes home

If my religion is true, it will stand up to all my questioning; there is no need to fear.
Madeleine L'Engle (1918-2007)

She passed away this last week, living behind hundreds of thousands of admirers. In writing, she believed a greater spirit of creativity came alive that almost mystically wrote through her. In her Christian faith, she embraced the tension of loving Jesus and being creative, pushing all the envelopes, never caring what others thought. She made us think deeper and broader, more critically and more openly. She will be missed.

Don't miss her beautiful little book Walking on Water.

Once Upon a Deer

Just last evening, I posted the beginning of a list of the best things in life that are free.

Tonight, God gave me a glimpse of one of those "best things" in the presence of three delicate fawns. Sure, you can say it's coincidence that I listed "watching a fawn wander through a meadow." And if you're so inclined, you can even believe it.

But I saw not one, but three white-tailed beauties frolicking through the only open, wide green space near my apartment building. All this, as I returned from a long walk where I poured out the mysteries and thoughts of my heart and mind to my Creator.

Sometimes these walks are the only way for me to process the deeper things that are moving and shifting, the questions and musings, the worries and what-ifs.

And when I saw this unlikely sight, I felt as if my Maker was holding my heart, as if he was reminding me that as I walk through life, he will be in the details, no matter what life brings. No matter what comes.

Brilliant joys, shattering lows, big transitions, unknown plot lines that have yet to be written in my story.

He may show up in the playful antics of a fawn. He may thunder into my thoughts through a lightning storm. Or hold me through the arms of a beloved. Or awaken the jaded parts of my heart through the laughter of a child.

He may do whatever he pleases. But whatever that might be, he will never stop loving me.

The best things in life are free...

• A wink or a kiss on the cheek from a cherished admirer
• a full afternoon reading a fascinating page-turner
• long, meandering walks in the woods, smelling the pine trees
• slow sunsets over Lake Michigan
• listening to or creating soulful music
• filling several journal pages with a "gratefulness list"
• lending a hand to someone in need
• watching a fawn wander through a meadow
• listening to stories from anyone over 75
• poring over a photography or art book at the library
• concocting a really wonderful dessert out of leftover ingredients
• observing an elderly couple holding hands
• and more....YOUR TURN, PLEASE POST!

Observing Grief

He is not here. I cannot pick up the phone and call. I cannot ask for his advice about anything--even if it is big, and I don't want to make the decision without his input. And when I go for a walk, I cannot feel his hand in mind; neither can I feel his quiet presence and gentleness.

These are no longer options. And the harsh reality is that his chair will be empty this Thanksgiving and Christmas, too. He will not show up on my doorstep with his tools, ready to help do something that needed doing. Some of his books are mine now, because although he loves reading, he no longer needs them. He will never need them again.

His clothing has already been given to new owners; his tools distributed; his few mementos, lovingly packed away.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Group Grieving

A few weeks ago, mom and I visited a grief group, with 8 or 9 others whose hearts were sore and ginger, whose emotions were just below the surface, waiting to gush out.

And the social worker named Clare kindly and gently explained to us what to expect from this strange process of letting go of a beloved one whom we do not quite know how to live without.

The 26-year-old new mom who lost her daddy to a 10-year fight with cancer acknowledged her pain--wishing her dad would have lived 18 days longer to meet his first grandbaby. If only. A well-mannered elderly couple lost their vibrant, 50-year-old boy, when they should have gone first; she kept a quiet composure, her husband spoke only with tears welling over.

A mom lost her teenage girl to leukemia, after a brave three-year struggle. Another lost her once strong husband whose personality loomed bigger than life--his vibrancy replaced with silence as she faces an empty house and an equally empty bed.

There is no efficiency to grieving. It upsets your life, leaving a gaping hole where life has been snuffed away, and all you can do is be willing to face it as it comes.

Yes, Clare explains, when your loved one has cancer you do experience anticipatory grief. It is a way of preparing for what's coming. But you don't get extra credit or a "get out of grief" free card. Your journey is not shortened; you must still walk the road of coming to terms with your loss.

And so we are, one day at a time; one memory here, another there; tears that start and stop, healing and grace that comes through a card or a hug. Serenity that comes through drinking in nature's beauty or sitting quietly with a friend or loved one.

Honestly, I think we are coming through the shock of his absence from us. Now we must be willing to face the pain that will surface and to acknowledge "the greater the love, the loss." I would never take back the richness of our relationships with dad or the depth of our love.

A love well-spent, to be remembered and cherished throughout eternity.

A father to the fatherless, a defender of widows, is God in his holy dwelling.
Psalm 68:5

quote for a Monday

"Earth hath no sorrow that heaven cannot heal."
-Thomas Moore

Remembering you, Dad

Here is the letter/conversation I read at dad's memorial services last week:

Dear dad:

If you were here today, and one of us was to ask how bad things—like cancer—happen to good people—like you, for instance, you would listen sincerely and nod.

You would remind us that long ago the world was broken, and that God never intended things to be broken like this. That it was people—just like us—who made it this way. So death isn’t what we’re made for. And that’s why it hurts like crazy. “That’s why it doesn’t seem right,” you would say. “Because it isn’t right.”

And then you would tell us this story of how all of us will face death—some earlier, some later, but because of one amazing rescue on our behalf, we don’t have to fear it at all.

You would smile and say the moment we breathe our last breath, like you did last Thursday, is the moment the life God intended for us really begins. This is the story of what one God-man did, sacrificing his life in place of ours, so that we could be forgiven of everything we’ve ever thought, done, or said that was wrong. And I can almost hear you now, because you’ve said it so often before: Jesus loved you, Suzie, so much that he paid with his life so you could have life—life FOREVER. A life filled with joy and free of pain.

You repeated this story hundreds of times—and you shared it in different ways, depending on who you were talking to at the time. But the heart and the truth of the story never changed.

Dad, I’ll admit, this story still sounds bigger than life and grander than our wildest dreams, but you staked your life on the belief that it is absolutely true. Truer than anything else you knew.

This story shaped your heart and informed your service. It altered the way you responded to those who meant you harm, and led to a lifestyle of servanthood. It kept you from caring about this world’s wealth and meant that you received the greatest joy from seeing others changed by the story of God’s love for us.

And if you were here right now, you would speak up to remind us that you also had faults and missteps, errors in judgment and times when you acted selfishly. And that, you would say, is exactly why God’s forgiveness and pursuit of us is so amazing; it’s why it changes everything. Because we are a messed-up lot with burdens that sometime threaten to undo us, but God’s story of rescue can bring hope where there is heartache.

This is the truth, dad: you didn’t want to leave us, not yet. You felt you still had ministry to do and people to love and you wondered why in the world your heavenly Father would send you to heaven now. Honestly, it just didn’t seem right.

But as you grew weaker, and we saw the future more clearly, we began to move toward this Story we have grown to love and believe in more than anything else. Dad, once we knew you were headed home, away from us, we began to talk about the breathtaking beauty and reality of the place where you will spend the rest of your days.

We even got excited with you about your homegoing at times, even though we dreaded the thought of saying goodbye.

Our hope and faith has been centered on something we could not see at all. Actually, the character Puddleglum from CS Lewis’ Chronicles of Narnia may describe it best, as he tells the White Witch why he will keep on believing, though he doesn’t see the world of Narnia:

“Suppose we have only dreamed, or made up, all those things—trees and grass and sun and moon and stars and Aslan himself. Suppose we have. Then all I can say is that, in that case, the made-up things seem a good deal more important than the real ones. Suppose this black pit of a kingdom of yours is the only world. Well, it strikes me as a pretty poor one . . . That’s why I’m going to stand by the play world. I’m on Aslan’s side even if there isn’t any Aslan to lead it. I’m going to live as like a Narnian as I can even if there isn’t any Narnia.”

But there IS a Narnia, dad, isn’t there? Death and evil have been defeated, haven’t they? If you were here today, I have this feeling you would tell us its streets are paved with gold, that its filled with people you knew here on this side who are loving on you. And I think you would also tell us that the sights and sounds you have now trump the best moments you ever experienced or dreamed about on this side of eternity.

I smile, dad, as I imagine you wearing a t-shirt that says, “Wish you were here.” How I do wish we were there, dad. And one day we will be—because we choose to trust in what we can’t see—in what God has done on our behalf.

With love and anticipation,

Your daughter, Suzie

Memories of Dad soon to come

Hello all:

I've had the most of annoying of technical problems, which has prevented me from posting the letter to dad I read at his funeral and memorial services. But it is soon to come--I promise.

For now, please read the article below, and grab your kleenex first.

We have made it this last week through the whirlwind of a visitation, a funeral service in one state, a memorial service in another and a graveside service just for family.

Memories include my two-year-old niece declaring that the funeral home was "heaven" and that "him was sweeping there." An attendant at the funeral service (who had never met my father) broke down and went outside to compose himself. Grown men wept at his casket, his services were filled with holy joy, tears mingled with laughter, and a multitude of loved ones, including parishioners from each of his churches, college roommates, pastor and missionary friends, even those who had meant him only once (from charismatic to United Methodists to police officers) and walked away somehow changed.

He is loved, that is for sure. And he is free...

'Til death do us part -- and soulmates forever

(written 2 weeks before dad's homegoing)

Sooner, or sometimes later, in marriage, things get difficult. I know this not from personal experience, of course, but from watching and listening to others.

Friends have let me in to their relationships, and along the way, painted a picture of less-than-nuptial bliss; the two entities of each couple I’ve known each have their own pasts, their own preferences, and their own ideas of what’s “normal.” And so, the friction that initially sparks chemistry can turn into a fire that burns and illuminates selfishness, competing goals, and differing expectations.

If carefully tended, the fire will not char and destroy the union—but it takes a healthy dose of realism and tenacity. And, in my own opinion, supernatural help from God. Fifty percent of marriages in the US will make it. Fifty percent of those who marry, unfortunately, will divorce for a variety of reasons. (The divorce statistic is supposedly 60% for those who attend church, but don’t get me started as to why that might be.)


I was born into a union that God smiled on, was in the middle of, and one in which he still has his hands on today.

But this couple, my dear parents, could not have been more opposite if one had been born in backwoods Arkansas, and one in fast-paced Manhattan. He was studious, well-read, creative, romantic, highly affectionate, a laid-back procrastinator, and from a blended family on the east side of Michigan. She was also accomplished in her studies, but that seems to be where the similarity ends. She abhorred procrastination and tardiness; she often preferred acts of service over “I love yous” or flowers; she shyed away from spontaneity and was accomplished at balancing everything that needed to be done—and then some. And she was from ‘da U.P. of Michigan. And from a strict Baptist upbringing. Enough said.

Yes, life was interesting for these opposites. But 37 years later, although certain irritations and personality clashes still exist, they are deeply, divinely, in love.

And this is how I know. My father speaks of my mother with tenderness and gratitude these days. My mother speaks of dad with commitment and love and affection. I don’t believe that they started out as soulmates; but they are soulmates now. It’s a mystery born amidst the births of three daughters, and one son who was miscarried. They rubbed shoulders as my dad served as a pastor in several churches; my mom faithfully and willingly serving as his “woman behind the curtain.” Children married and established careers, grandchildren arrived. And no one doubted they would be partners for life. Even when they drove each other crazy!

Now that I look back on things, I don’t believe dad would have made it in ministry without her; I don’t believe mom would have wanted to do life without him.


Dad is feeble now. He has cancer everywhere, and to be honest, he may be going to meet Jesus within just a few weeks. So today, on father’s day, we gathered around his hospice bed, and stroked his legs, and kissed his head, and felt the tears gathering at the corners of our eyes.

And this is how I know my parents are soulmates, that they would do anything for each other.

This weekend, dad was lying there, and my mom entered the room after waking up from a nap and crossed over to his bed. And she leaned over him gently. He said, “Hi sweets, how was your nap?” And she “good.” And he said, “What did you dream about?” And she said “You, hubs.” And he said, “What was the dream?” And she smiled and said “That you were all better!” And he said, “That was a good dream.” And she laid her head down next to his.

And this is the truth, as true as I know how to tell it: my parents have had their ups and downs together, their jubilant highs and their very lows, but they have never given up on loving each other or being for each other. They grabbed on to God first, and knew that they would serve him as one. And they had their moments, they certainly still have their “opposites,” but they knew as long as they lived, they would also have each other.


Don’t you wish you could bottle this love, that you could find it everywhere? Oh, but its rarity makes it infinitely more precious.

And this is the kind of love I have waited for. The “I love you” that is less about red-hot chemistry than candid commitment; the heartfelt affection that seeks to give rather than take; the self-sacrificing heart that seeks to show love through the work of becoming one. When two individuals resolve to give and grow together—and to become soulmates at last.

You may have heard rumors of this kind of love before, or perhaps you have witnessed it or even experienced it yourself. But if you have not—if you, like me, are still waiting for your true love—take heart.

I have seen two people we might label a “contradiction,” love each other unselfishly, imperfectly, but faithfully. And their love glows red hot today, as he lies in his hospice bed, squeezing her hand, and she tends to his needs, lovingly, unselfishly, to the very end.

“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.”
I Corinthians 13:7-8a

Dad goes home

Dear ones:

Dad slipped away peacefully, mercifully, at around 9 am this morning. He went "home"--to heaven--the place he had mentioned for several days after my sister finished reading the 23rd Psalm and as my mom sang the song "Jesus, Jesus, there's just something about that name." One of his favorites.

I was en route to Indiana when he passed and called just in time to hear my mom say he had taken his last breath. But all was as it should be, as I had my special moments with him just last Sunday and felt in my heart that might be the last time we spent together here on earth.
Thank you for holding our family up in prayer through these last many months of trial. We already miss dad's gentle spirit, and his laugh, and his affection, but he is with Jesus now, where he has always belonged. How thankful I am to know this, to be able to celebrate even as we grieve.

With joy and some sadness,
Suzie

"No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love him--but God has revealed it to us by his Spirit." I Corinthians 2:9-10

Thoughts for a Thursday

A friend sent me a devotional that included the quote below. It is written by Anne Cetas of RBC Ministries for Our Daily Bread:

“Bad things happen—tragic and horrible things. Good things happen—amazing and miraculous things. And all this happens randomly to us. But it is not random to the God who cradles our aching hearts. He knows … Suffering will come. But God is … larger than the events that seem to contradict God’s goodness.”

We will experience sickness, accidents, sorrow, and death. But we are not on our own. God is in control. “Many are the afflictions of the righteous, but the Lord delivers him out of them all” (Ps. 34:19).

For the love of dark chocolate

Hi, my name is Suzie, and I have an emotional attachment to dark chocolate. (And, no, I'm not a member of Chocoholics Anonymous--yet.) The darker the better. And if by chance I crunch on a cocoa nib, it's the closest thing to heaven.

Last Christmas, I received an amazing array of European-style truffles from an author who found them at the Chocolate Fetish in Asheville, NC. If you're wondering how to tell what's the really good stuff, visit http://www.chocolatefetish.com/

Needless to say, these truffles still exist in my imagination (and in the photo above). They were that good.

You might argue with me, and you certainly deserve to have your own opinion. My opinion though, is this: dark, beautiful chocolate creates a seritonin rush so divine that I believe chocolates should be prescribed as an antidepressant. Or at the very least the ultimate cure for a lousy day!

The bottom line is this: the rush from dark chocolate makes me deliriously happy. And when I thank God for simple pleasures, this one sometimes tops the list.

I can't quote you chapter and verse, but I believe within me that chocolate must exist in heaven. Or at least a substance like it, no matter what they call it. Perfection. Divinity. The ultimate. Whatever.

The other night, after a really long and hard day, I found a gift bag on my doorstep. I took it inside and emptied the contents on the floor. There was a lovely coupling of Bath and Body honeysuckle lotion and shower gel. It's really great and I use it often. But honestly, what brought tears to my eyes was the dark chocolate bar.

It was as if God reached down, through my anonymous friend, and said, "It's been a rough day, a rough week, a rough year, in fact. But I love you and I know you, and things will be OK. Enjoy this little treat on me."

And that is the story of my emotional attachment to dark chocolate. What's your chocolate story?

"Giving chocolate to others is an intimate form of communication, a sharing of deep, dark secrets." -Milton Zelman, publisher of "Chocolate News"

The irony of the urgent

Here I am, down in Indiana with mom and dad, hoping to offer some comfort and cheer. Hoping to make the burden a bit lighter, if that's possible. Hoping that the simplicity of my presence might help them breathe easier, sleep harder, and forget some of the difficulties the big "C" brings day after day after day.

I knew as I was driving that dad would look different than the last time I saw him; he can no longer turn his head, he lies exclusively in his hospice bed, and he just today received a catheter. Small movements bring great pain. And so I ever-so-lightly kiss the top of his bare head. And he says one of his favorite phrases: "'Preciate it." It is all he can do.

I comment on his fuzzy chin, and he offers to shave. With a smile, I tell him it doesn't matter, not at all. He is fine just the way he is. And within moments he is asleep again.

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The hospice literature tells us that in the last few months of a person's life, they begin to pull inward. They will stop keeping up with the television news, they will seldom be in the mood for a visit, they will doze off for most of the day.

And so I realize that every effort dad makes to interact with a child or grandchild, with a well-meaning parishioner, with a brother, with a friend, with a man he led to Christ, are precious gifts to us. They do not come naturally; they occur only because of intense effort on his part.

In the last few weeks, the visitors have been virtually non-stop--and don't get me wrong, I'm most grateful.

Still, it occurs to me how sad it is to wait to make these moments until the end of a person's life. Now I look back on my times with dad with fresh gratefulness; some days I regret I didn't drive to see him more often, that I didn't live closer the last few years, etc.

But mostly I learned from him to express my appreciation and love to others. As he showered affection on my sisters and I, I felt free to express my love to him, often and repeatedly. It was his way. It is perhaps the greatest gift he has given us. And in return we loved to give it back to him with our own expressions of fondness.

*********************************************
And so, this week, I felt an urge to gather those I care about close to me. I wanted to tell them I enjoy their company; to tell them I admire their fortitude, wisdom, and compassion; to tell them that I treasure time spent in their presence. And that I hope our friendships and family relationships continue to thrive and grow.

If you read this entry, will you do me a favor? Will you call your mom or dad today and remind them that you're glad they are your parents? Or if you're not quite there in your relationship, will you reach out to them in some way, to let them know you're there, and that you do care. These people who have given us life, and nurtured our growth, and put up with our personality quirks, and accept us anyway are amazing.

Perhaps your parents are gone, or estranged for some reason, and you have already walked this journey of saying goodbye or parting ways for some reason. But I believe in my heart that there is someone in your life whom you value. We hesitate to give too much of ourselves emotionally for so many reasons; but self-protectiveness does not bring life. It does not lead to real living. It's just existing.

And you want more. And you should. If by any chance this entry prompts you to move towards someone in your life, will you let me know?

Peace,
Suzie

Living and Dying

My prayer seems awkward, but it rings true: "Father, help us to continue to breathe. Help us not to hold our breathe in these our last few months together as a family. Make us experts at showing love to our dad. Work supernaturally in this transition as dad has one foot planted here, one foot reaching out for his forever tomorrow."

And I believe in my heart that God will answer this request--it is, after all, his heart to see his children lovingly home to heaven. He is already showing up. He will show up next week when new limitations present themselves, and ultimately, he will usher our dear father home. The end for us here means a new celebration in heaven. I imagine that some of those dad knew here, some of those he made an impact on, may already be waiting in anticipation. It brings tears and a smile. As it should.

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Picture 1 is me and one-week-old baby Andrew. Isn't he amazing? He slept on my chest and when I started to sing lullabies he opened his eyes and moved his head around.

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Picture 2 is dad with his Ozzy Osbourne look, holding Cassie. The hat looks kind of like real hair; Cassie, who is only 2 1/2, loves to sit on grandpa's lap and snuggle. He says that brings him the most comfort of all.

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Picture 3 is dad and I at the IMAX to see Spiderman. Thanks to my sister Christi and my brother-in-laws for helping to make this happen!

quote for the day

"One need not be a servant to be able to serve."
-Victor Frankl

A bouncing new baby boy!

The Cross family has yet to bear a small baby, but this one takes the cake! Andrew Reed was born Friday afternoon, weighing 10 lbs. 6 ounces! Amazingly, the delivery went fine and my sister Julie is recovering at home now. Attached is a picture of dad holding Andrew.

He and mom traveled two hours on Friday to see the baby, and I’m so very glad they made it. Dad has declined quite steadily over the last four weeks. He uses a lift chair now exclusively and a wheelchair. Hospice was called in yesterday for in-home care.

Until this weekend, dad was not ready to accept his declining health. He was still hoping that he might regain some mobility. He is now seeing what we realized several weeks ago. It is time for him to be gracious with himself as he walks this journey into the arms of Jesus.

If you are praying, pray that hospice will be a help in making him comfortable. Pray that my mom will have a supernatural strength to deal with the situation. Pray that we will know if it would be wise to move both of them up to Grand Rapids to stay with me. And finally, pray that I will be quickly healed of the respiratory virus that I have had for a week now.

It’s impossible for me to explain how our heavenly Father is holding and directing us right now. He feels so very near, and indeed he is. (James 4:8)

Visit www.praybigbook.com

If you've ever wondered how to pray Scripture, how to pray more boldly, or how to pray for both little and big things, this is the book for you. Check out the web site and be sure to view the video for a laugh. This is a book I've been working on for several months, and it will release on July 1.

Plenty of free prayer resources on the web site, too. You'll especially like the free ecard that tells a friend "I Prayed for You Today."

Let me know what you think.

Oh, yes, and what do you think of this quote from CS Lewis:
"Your book bill ought to be your biggest extravagance." ~CS Lewis

Update on Dad's journey

We continue to covet your prayers. Dad has been growing progressively weaker over the last three weeks or so. We’ve made adjustments by getting him a lifeline button, having a nurse in a few times a week, etc.

Last night he had to go into the emergency room because the strength in his left leg had deteriorated so significantly. He is back home now, but it is now extremely difficult for him to get up from his chair. It may be time for us to consider hospice or to get some more help.

This is the verse I’ve prayed over our family for some time:
“You brought me into a spacious place; you rescued me because you delighted in me.” Psalm 18:19

Ironically, the spacious place dad is being led to comes through a journey of pain and progressive weakness. But I believe with all my heart that God’s preparing a place that will be spacious, vibrant, and perfect for dad.

Prayers that we would respond well as he takes this journey are appreciated. Especially for mom, with mother’s day coming this weekend. And his grandson’s birth is just a week away now. We will celebrate these moments with abandon, and then we will pray that God gives us the strength to graciously release him when the time comes.

Crazy, crazy

I'm all for spontaneity, but this week I'm craving a bit more routine.

We started a new Bible study on Sunday at my apartment, I had a yearly review at work, a visit to the amazing tulip festival in Holland, Michigan, two all-day meetings, summer clothes shopping, teaching water aerobics, blogging, a mother/daughter banquet, and a visit to Indiana. Next week I will return to a life of sanity and regular exercise.

Hey, y'all come back next week when I'll have more time to say something meaningful. Word up. (For some reason, all this chaos brings me back to the 80s.) Ha!

Quote for the day

“I am grateful that I started writing at a very early age, before I realized what a daring thing it is to do, to set down words on paper, to attempt to tell a story, create characters. We have to be braver than we think we can be, because God is constantly calling us to be more than we are, to see through plastic sham to living, breathing reality, and to break down our defenses of self-protection in order to be free to receive and give love.” ~Madeleine L’Engle, Walking on Water

Guitar Heroes Rock!

OK, I've taken leave of my senses. Sunday night I was attending a barbeque with some church friends. When I heard of a strange video game called "Guitar Heroes" I found myself walking down into the basement...and into a whole new world. Really.

I didn't think I could fall for a cheap video game. But hey, we all have our quirks. I heard tell one of the 30-something guys from church is buying the game for "his 6-year-old." Yeah, right. We are forming a group for the guitar-hero addicted.

So here's the gist: you hold a pretend plastic guitar while watching the screen. It's very much like Dance Dance Revolution if you've ever encountered that. There are colored buttons that you push and then you "strum" a white plastic button. The key is to do this all in rhythm so you can be a guitar hero. You "play" through two dancing rockers on the screen. One of them even had purple tresses. Oh my.

I started slow, since I'm used to piano playing, but not guitar strumming. But once the beat took hold, I started moving a bit. And by the end of the 2nd song, my guitar was pointed upward and I was in a phrase...rocking out. You had to see it to believe it.

http://www.guitarherogame.com/gh2/

A note to all: I don't condone all the music lyrics used on this game. Be selective. And rock on! :)

Time at home

Dad was in the hospital from Thursday till Sunday. Now he's resting at home again, in his comfy tan recliner, glad to be living free from the constraints of being watched and prodded 24/7.

This weekend the cancer doctor told dad he can stop chemo and radiation at any time--these treatments will not help significantly to halt the cancer, and who wants to live with side effects indefinitely?

Dad will have one more chemo to see how it goes. Just two 1/2 weeks until his grandson arrives, so we're all anticipating how wonderful it will be to share this new life as a family.

It's no exaggeration to say that this part of the journey through Dad's cancer will be one of the most difficult. I pray we'll have the strength and wisdom to help him live graciously, with dignity and comfort, in the remaining time we have together.

This weekend, I reflected on the fact that I'm so very glad dad knows Jesus--not just casually, but as a friend, brother, and Savior. I'm so glad I know Jesus, too. It makes the pain somehow bearable, even though the pain is very real.

Stay tuned for a more light-hearted entry on my favorite new video game...guitar heroes. :)

I'll be back soon.

Living through Pain

After awhile, with cancer, it is hard to be cheerful. There are many blessings in our lives, to be sure, but constant, excruciating pain, not only wears on the patient--it wears on all who wish they could relieve it for him.

That said, thank you for your prayers. They are so very important, as the tumors on dad's neck area have grown, causing constant pain. They have doubled up the medication, and so he is more comfortable at present, but so tired he cannot function well.

Mom is tired as well--and we're so very grateful for prayers offered to strengthen, sustain, and comfort her during this time.

I will be heading down to their home on Saturday evening and returning Monday evening. Please pray that I will be able to help and comfort both of them during this time.

Here is a wonderful quote that one of my author's shared, following the tragedy in Virginia this week:

We are not alone, we are more than flesh and bone,
What is seen will pass away, what is not is going home…
I believe in the holy shores of uncreated light,
I believe there is power in the blood.
And all of the death that ever was if you set it next to life
I believe it barely fills a cup –
Cause I believe there’s power in the blood…
When you lay me down to die, you lay me down to live.
-by musician Andrew Peterson

“The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life and have it abundantly.”
-Jesus

Return to Chemo

Thank you for the many prayers you have offered up, for dad, and for our whole family. He was extremely weak this last Easter Sunday, but he read in church, and fought through the pain to stand up, to smile, to show kindness to others.

Today he is feeling quite a bit better. And that is how it goes with cancer. You never know quite what to expect. Some days he experiences less pain, some days he experiences more. And so we take each day that we have been given as a gift. A gift that brings pain, but reminds us of everything we believe in. Reminds us that following Jesus is not about platitudes and empty promises. It is real, eternal hope.

Dad re-enters chemotherapy today, and we're hoping the treatments might lessen the pain of the bone cancer in his spine.

And if you wouldn't mind praying specifically, that he will not get an infection following the chemo that would land him back in the hospital. How very wonderful it would be for him to be able to stay at home.

Thank you for your love, support, and prayers.

Gratefully, Suzie

He died, but three days later...

Quiet, contemplative, and sacred, the Good Friday service held an air of both sorrow and an undercurrent of joy.

Gathered in a small library at a local Covenant church, lights dimmed, scores of candles bright, we remembered his sacrifice. A piano led us through the liturgy. A violin crooned, sometimes mournful, sometimes soft and warm.

I was transported as I closed my eyes, and the pianist reminded us that he was pierced for our transgressions. In fact, we were the ones who persecuted him, we were the ones who brought him to Calvary, and unwittingly nailed him to the tree:

But he was pierced for our transgressions,
Jesus, all of my vile thoughts and deeds stare me in the face on Good Friday...
he was crushed for our iniquities;
My eyes begin to water as I imagine you whipped, tortured, beaten beyond recognition..."no, no!," I want to scream. My sins cannot be causing this disgrace....
The punishment that brought us peace was upon him,
Nails pounding, soldiers spitting, women weeping, "Father forgive them...Into my hands I commit my Spirit." And then you were dead. For us. For me.
and by his wounds we are healed.
Your hands, your feet, your side, your sweet head, your whole body smitten with the wounds that should have been mine. And in that moment, I was eternally healed.
Isaiah 53:5

Oh, the pain Mary must have felt in her chest, a real physical ache, a sorrow beyond all sorrows.

Until three days hence....

After the Sabbath, at dawn on the first day of the week, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to look at the tomb.
Rabbi, our friend, the man who valued us more than any other man, where are you? How can we honor your sacrifice? How can we live with this horrible ache?
There was a violent earthquake, for an angel of the Lord came down from heaven and, going to the tomb, rolled back the stone and sat on it. 3His appearance was like lightning, and his clothes were white as snow. 4The guards were so afraid of him that they shook and became like dead men.
Oh, Lord, what can this be?
The angel said to the women, "Do not be afraid, for I know that you are looking for Jesus, who was crucified. He is not here; he has risen, just as he said. Come and see the place where he lay. Then go quickly and tell his disciples: 'He has risen from the dead and is going ahead of you into Galilee. There you will see him.' Now I have told you."
Risen!?! Oh, how quickly can my sandals carry this good news...how quickly, Mary, can we run?
The women hurried away from the tomb, afraid yet filled with joy, and ran to tell his disciples.
My heart pounds, but I cannot slow down...I cannot keep this joy inside!
Suddenly Jesus met them. "Greetings," he said. They came to him, clasped his feet and worshiped him. Then Jesus said to them, "Do not be afraid. Go and tell my brothers to go to Galilee; there they will see me."
It is so hard to let go of his garment, of his hand. "We love you more than life, Rabbi. But must we go? We would never leave your side. Oh, well, if you insist. Thomas will never believe this...."
Matthew 28

Jesus is Risen! Forever and always. From here to eternity. He's risen in my heart, he's seated in the heavens, he calls my name, he intercedes for me, he waits while he prepares me a place.

He is risen, indeed.

The Joy of Jelly Bellys

You can tell a lot about a person by the way they eat jelly bellys.

Really.

For starters, everyone has their favorite flavor...tutti frutti, buttered popcorn, pina colada, or jalapeno. What's your pleasure? If you're conservative and predictable, you may opt for the standard flavors like blueberry, or lime, or orange.

If you're a spontaneous daredevil, on the other hand, you might find yourself creating your own on-the-spot recipes: kiwi & orange, strawberry & juicy pear, toasted marshmallow and chocolate. You could even go wild and concoct a licorice-strawberry cheesecake-margarita combo. (Get more "recipes" at jellybelly.com.)

I myself am either well-rounded or indecisive when it comes to jelly belly flavors, depending on how you look at it. I buy the standard mix, and I want to taste EVERY flavor (except cinnamon and licorice).

Sometimes I eat them slowly, sometimes I pop them while reading. But I'm in the habit of eating only one at a time. I want to absorb the bursting flavor and experience it to its fullest. Nancy from my water aerobics class says this makes me self-disciplined. Ha! For crying out loud, I'm eating pure sugar!

That said, jelly bellys for me are a rare indulgence. I bought them this last weekend because I knew my family would share them with me. And by the way, they are the new "reward" of choice for my two-year-old niece who is currently being potty-trained. She's partial to the "pink" ones--relying on color only to make her selection.

Well, enough is enough. I've beat this horse to death, and this might be the last time I ever speak of jelly bellys on my blog. It's time to move on to something more meaningful...like Easter.

That said, if you do happen upon these tasty morsels, I recommend placing them in a glass dish, lounging in a recliner, and slowly sucking up the delicious goodness. OK, I'm done. :)

quote for a Thursday

"We read to know we are not alone."
-CS Lewis

I'll call him Sam

A few years ago, a friend set me up with a guy I'll call "Sam." Sam was extremely good looking, kind, my age, and a book lover to boot!

Seriously, Sam and I could have talked about books for about eight hours, I think. But I knew going into my first date with Sam that there was something big that might keep us from pursuing any kind of dating relationship.

Sam is Catholic.

But I was open-minded, wanting to hear his thoughts on faith and Christian spirituality.

And, doggone it, the very thing I respect most about Sam is the thing that would keep me from continuing to see him: he was a bonafide, dyed-in-the-wool, this-is-my-life devout Catholic. (I pictured Sam's future wife as gorgeous, benevolent, and well, pregnant.)

Sure, he was raised that way, but the impressive thing about Sam was that he had studied his religious tradition for himself. He wasn't "borrowing" on his parents' faith. In the span of two dates, I learned a lot about Sam, and a lot more about Catholicism. Coming from a Baptist background, I was curious about all-things-Catholic.

So, Sam and I sat at the coffee shop, and I learned very quickly that he was opposed to birth control, and he was wholeheartedly pro-life (a bonus), but that for the rest of his life he would practice the dictates of the Catholic church to the best of his ability. He seemed wholly devoted to serving the poor and doing wonderfully good things. So I was a little sad that after our coffee date, and a date to a square dance, Sam and I would part ways.

Oh, well, I thought. We must have been destined to learn from each other. I do believe in my heart of hearts that every conversation, every "blind date" can instruct us on our journeys.

And so, occasionally Sam would call, but eventually we just lost touch.

Fast forward 1 1/2 years...our mutual friend tells me Sam is becoming a priest! He is selling all his possessions, quitting his job, and moving away from family. But the sad part of the story is that Sam says he is doing this because he cannot find a wife. He hopes that the community he might find as a priest, in seminary, might touch this void.

And if Sam goes through this schooling and decides taking the vow is not for him, he can still back out. But he would have to in all ways "start over."

When my friend shared this drastic news, I was tempted to e-mail Sam to tell him not to do it. I really think he is a wonderful man with a zillion good qualities a woman should look for in a husband. But Sam is on his own journey. He's making a choice that seems scary to me, based on his reasoning, but it is his choice.

And I wonder...what might God teach him through this season?

Sam recently mentioned to our mutual friend that I had once said something very profound about love to him that he has never forgotten. I cannot imagine what that might have been.
But Sam told my friend that God meant for the two of us to meet, even though we both realized a dating relationship would be impossible.

When my friend shared this with me, I thought about daily events that whiz by, and how my heavenly Father ordains the people, and circumstances, and chance meetings, and in a way--even the instruction of failed romances. It's the age-old reminder that our lives are being so lovingly woven into a tapestry: we see the "underbelly," ratty, ugly, and seemingly purposeless.

But He sees the colors and hues forming something beautiful, sometimes painful, but always, always something he is working for good. It might not seem so good today, but in the biggest picture, in the larger sense, it is entirely good.

Sam doesn't realize that he's reminded me to put the "dailyness" in my life back into perspective. But if I could see Sam today, I would thank him. And that is how God used a future Catholic priest to show me His love and care for me. Go figure!

Thank you, kindhearted, good-looking, hard-working, devoted Sam.

Quote of the day

"A characteristic of the great saints is their power of levity. Angels can fly because they can take themselves lightly. One 'settles down' into a sort of selfish seriousness; but one has to rise to a gay self-forgetfulness."
-GK Chesterton

And finally, home

Yes, I made it from NYC to Denver to Indiana in a one-week period. And now I'm home. (OK, I'm actually at a coffee shop right now that's about a 1/2-mile from home.)

It was good to see the city and the mountains, and yes, my family in the midwest--but it is time to nest for a few nights. To settle back into some sort of routine.

This last weekend, dad reserved all his energy so he could preach on Sunday. I didn't realize he would preach on the "Christian way of dying." He talked about how the apostle Paul's second imprisonment brought the knowledge that he would soon pass from this life to his real, true, eternal home. A place that was "better by far."

I have an author friend who quotes CS Lewis often: "If you feel in your heart there is a longing which nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that you were made for another world."

Dad's voice was weak, but his purpose was strong: he recounted how his doctors have given him a matter of months to live. Yet he reminded the congregation that he is prepared to go to heaven. He seemed quiet, yet authoritative and completely at peace.

For those of you who don't know, dad's pain has increased in his neck and lower spine. New chemo treatments have been ordered, and he's also undergoing daily radiation--measures meant to decrease his pain.

My 6-year-old niece joined me as I visited my parents, and dad gathered her on his lap and, though feeble, he read to her from the first book of The Chronicles of Narnia. I closed my eyes and listened, transported to my childhood days, when dad would read us chapters of The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe right before bed. My sister Julie and I would beg for just one more chapter before shutting our eyes for the night. Many times dad obliged.

It wasn't until my adult years when the weight of the story's symbolism hit me with fresh force. In Narnia, Lewis instructed me on the sheer wildness and audacious grace of God. This heavenly Father came to me through the roar of Aslan and through his tender sacrifice on the Stone Table. And the story still speaks....

I titled this entry "And finally, home." I meant my earthly dwelling, of course. It is good to be home. But I'm also referring to my final heavenly home. Dad is approaching our forever tomorrow. It is hard for me to fathom that he is ahead of me on the race. And I long to run up alongside him, and as I imagined myself doing with Aslan, to bury my face in his mane--or in this case, to lay it lovingly on his shoulder.

But there is a letting go I am being called to. It hurts like sheer hell and brings a literal physical ache. Still, there is a part of my spirit that soars with the knowledge of his homegoing. He's sidling up to Jesus, keeping his eyes fixed on what matters, leaving for a far better, pain-free, glorious existence.

Yes, of course, so I am jealous. And my God--the Lord of heaven and earth--wouldn't want it any other way.

This life journey can often feel long, but the end of the rainbow promises much more than gold. Maybe our biggest problem isn't being "so heavenly minded that we're no earthly good." Perhaps if we were more heavenly-minded, if we remembered all that our heavenly Father has so intentionally and lovingly planned for us, we would be of far greater use in the here-and-now. Do you agree?

Loving NYC

Sure, I know rationally that I would not survive in NY. I would tire of the noise and the pace, the crowds and the pressure. And yet, a slice of me wishes to stay here, to live in the energy, to absorb the culture, to discover how to live in such amazing diversity.

I've even got a soft spot for those with strong New York accents, sometimes pushy and forward, but also magnanimous and kind. I met a cute fireman at the Grand Central station subway stop, I dined with a local who was originally from the Phillippines, and I even argued with the very New York hotel manager. (He gave me the rate quoted with a funny "I'm not wrong" but I want your experience with Hampton to be satisfactory.)

The top 5 things I've learned about NY:
1. Many New Yorkers are not good at giving directions! Don't assume they know where to point you. New York street workers got me lost!!
2. Ignore men of any nationality who walk by you on the street and say "hey, babe." They're generally harmless, but you don't want to encourage them. :)
3. Invest in a good bag that has an adjustable strap and wear it diagonally. You'll feel that your possessions are safe even when you get lost in the crowd.
4. Don't feel like you need to do it all. You can't! Pick the top things on your list and enjoy them to the fullest. But make sure you experience some night life. That's when the city comes alive.
5. Open yourself up to meeting and interacting with a variety of people-at restaurants, subway stops, parks, etc. and your trip will be enriched by their cultures and viewpoints. And be sure to schedule time for people-watching!

I'm bone-tired and headed to bed on this Sunday night. On to Denver in the a.m., bright and early.

Picture descriptions: looking at the Brooklyn bridge from the Manhattan Seaport, classmate Dante (charming!), Suzie and her new friend Jenny (Jenny graciously gave me a NY walking tour), dancers and drums at the Times Square subway station, Times Square on a Saturday night

NYC and me

I flew out to NYC at 8 am this morning and am having a marvelous time. The urban culture is fascinating and colorful. So although the temp hovered around 25 degrees today, I was grateful to be out walking, walking, and walking some more. :)

I saw Ground Zero and walked through St. Paul's cathedral...the church that stood standing with not a window shattered when 9/11 exploded on the streets of Manhattan.

It was beautiful and poignant inside with a moving tribute to all the heroes that served the volunteers and those who were hurting emotionally and physically in the 9 months following the accident. There were chiropractors and massage therapists, cooks and counselors, thousands upon thousands who held hands and wrapped up sore feet and offered an ear to the devastated.

When you walk in, it is quiet with candles burning, and you feel a hush as people talk in low tones. It's a sacred place, and visitor after visitor lines up next to a long roll of paper to move a crayon over the sheet, leaving their condolences or blessings on our country and its heroes. Since this was my first visit to Ground Zero (and NY City in general), I felt tears welling up and an incredible sadness as I looked at so many pictures of people who were "missing" after the twin towers were struck--so many of them looked radiant and vivacious, never knowing that an event soon to come would end their lives and change the landscape of our country forever.

I imagined loved ones combing the soot-lined streets after the bombing, begging passerbys to look at their photos, to hope perchance that the missing were just that--missing but safe. Oh, the relief that came when some were found, and the tremendous anger and grief when some were permanently gone from this earth.

It is good to remember, to be grateful for life and the sunshine and your family and your livelihood. To thank God that he is still gracious and kind even when very, very bad things happen.

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The plane ride

I met two new friends today. One of them named Tim sat next to me on the airplane. Tim runs a brewery in Kalamazoo, and he's actually attending the "Extreme Beer" festival here in NYC this weekend. His brewery's chocolate dessert beer will be featured at the end of a long beer-filled meal. :)

He told me the ins and outs of NY, taught me how to navigate the subway, and gave me a plan for visiting the sites I'm interested in. Middle-aged but young at heart, Tim kept whetting my appetite for Little Italy, insisting that I must visit a particular restaurant there. (This was his second choice for my dining pleasure, since he found out I don't really eat barbeque.) Hey, what would you expect from a brewery owner?

Tim, if you ever find my blog, thanks for showing me the ropes before we landed in NY!

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Whole Foods Forever

If you've never visited whole foods, you haven't lived. Everything is natural, and living, and delicious, and I ate a scrumptious vegetarian feast, filling my body with delicious bites of eggplant, and chickpeas, and all sorts of salads that Whole Foods prepares. You can eat Moroccan, or vegetarian, or organic salads, or macaroni and cheese, or beef...you can eat anything at whole foods, except artificial ingredients.

I sat at a high table, and a lawyer took the seat across from me. He was friendly and kind, and he asked me what I do, and was only mildly turned off when I said I work to market Christian books!

He munched on his sushi while standing up, speaking with a strange Chicago/NY accent that he acquired from living in both places, of course. I had to listen intensely to follow him. And as I raved about the beauty and goodness of Whole Foods, he shrugged his shoulders. It's OK, he said. But since he can eat at Whole Foods 365 days a year, it's not really special to him anymore. How very sad, I said.

I can't imagine having so many delicious natural food choices and ever getting bored. But I guess that shows I live in the midwest, where they don't yet believe in Whole Foods in my town. But someday, someday... (written very wistfully)

Enough about my healthy food fetish...

More on NY tomorrow. Enjoy the pics. And, as always, feel free to post to say hello.