This transports me to joy. Enjoy.
A SHORT LOVE STORY IN STOP MOTION from Carlos Lascano on Vimeo.
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
13 April 2011
26 December 2010
Just a Little More. Christmas.
I awaken with a familiar pang - my mom used to talk about it every holiday. She felt the blues so strongly in the days following - she hungered for the days of family and love and togetherness to stick around. But for our family, those days were rare. With an alcoholic husband, parents who never came to visit, and relatives and friends who needed more than they gave, my mom's everydays were difficult days.
Things are different for me. I have a good husband, a great son and daughter-in-love, a precious grandson, friends who have become family and family that reminds me of my roots. But the blues are
just as strong, and I find myself needing just a little more Christmas, just a little more kindness and togetherness. Just a little more holiday. Just a little more holy day.
The more I ponder the season, the more I hunger for holy moments that begin earlier and linger longer. I long for candles and choirs and whispered prayers of loved ones. My heart hungers for the awe that comes in a night sky blazing with starlight and the angels singing. And my soul needs to feel the joy that comes from the surprise and delight of unexpected gifts - gifts given not out of obligation but out of love.
I’m ready for Christmas to be here - again.
27 January 2010
Choices & the Value of Human Life
It’s such a peaceful afternoon, and the solitude is something I’ve been craving for weeks. I have pages of notes of thoughts and stories, and had every intention of spending time enveloped in memories of purchasing my own cookware when I was nine or the beauty of a highly dysfunctional family of double-kin, halfs, strays, and ‘dopteds. But a simple post I made on Facebook yesterday afternoon changed things.
My doctor said I was too sick to carry my son to full-term. He suggested an abortion - said it was the smart thing to do. My son is 26 now. It was one of the best choices I've ever made.
Within a few minutes, several people had clicked the “like” button, while a few commented that I had made a good decision, and how my decision reinforced the importance of a woman’s right to choose. One particular statement – “I think Ronne's testimony is wonderful. The whole point was, she had a choice. She made the right choice for her.” – made by a woman I respect and admire, resonated with me.
I did indeed have a choice. When Dr Turner, the OB/GYN who believed I would miscarry, encouraged me to “take care of things rather than face the inevitable,” I could have said “yes." But I was pregnant, carrying an innocent, vulnerable human life who didn’t have a vote. Scripture after scripture told me that, even though the pregnancy was unexpected (I was actually in the hospital, hooked up to IVs while the doctors determined whether or not a hysterectomy was necessary), my baby was not an accident, not a mistake. So my decision to NOT have an abortion wasn’t the right choice for me – it was the right choice for him. He deserved every opportunity to experience life, even if the road to get there was difficult. And it was. I was in the hospital for several days as they monitored his heartbeat and health. I almost miscarried at six months, and I still carry the battle scars of a difficult delivery. But it was absolutely worth every moment of laughter and pain.
I also had a choice when I was 18. A bright-eyed freshman at the University of Oklahoma with big plans and the attention of a handsome, smart guy named Chris, I plunged head-long into a dating relationship. He and I met at a frat party (he and I were both pledge class presidents – he of the fraternity and me of the auxiliary “Little Sister” organization), and we rarely spent a day apart. I chose to have sex with him. And I got pregnant. I remember weeping as I told my mom, remember the long conversation with Chris, remember the highly logical “pros/cons” list created used to judge the value of the life I was carrying. He planned to be an attorney, and I had aspirations to be a network television anchor – and the idea of being burdened by a baby just didn’t seem palatable. So, on a chilly December morning, after finishing my first semester finals, Chris and I drove to the doctor’s office and paid our $250 (plus an extra $50 for a RhoGAM shot to protect me just in case the baby’s blood wasn’t O- like mine). I changed into a hospital gown and was moved to a room with an examination table. Placing my feet in the stirrups, the doctor told me everything would be “back to normal” in a few minutes. A long tube was inserted, and I then heard the sound of the machine. I wasn’t asleep, so I witnessed it all - literally felt life being sucked from my body. Despite the pain medication given to me, I felt every contraction as I watched the tube fill. I wanted to scream, but knew it wouldn’t matter. So I kept telling myself, “it’s all going to be better soon.”
There was no counseling before, no counseling after. No one talked to me about other choices I could have made – open adoption or keeping the child (even without the boyfriend in the picture). No one talked to me about possible medical complications that could arise from the act of abortion – medical complications that, for me, would eventually result in an inability to have children. No one talked to me about the guilt I would ultimately experience when I realized the choice I made that was “right for me” ended another person’s life.
Call it what you want. Debate the “viability of life” and “when a human becomes a human” and a woman’s right to choose and who gets the short straw in the “my life or yours” decision. Discuss at length all the variables about health and safety, and include the “incest or rape” factor that affects 1% of all women. I'm not saying choice is a bad word - remember, I've made choices. But when all is said and done, abortion is still defined as “termination” – an ending of potential for someone who didn’t get a vote.
I remember hearing a story once from a man who was on vacation in Florida with his family. They were enjoying time on the beach when they came to a fenced area with huge “CAUTION” signs posted. At first glance, nothing appeared to be inside the fence. As the family grew closer, they could read the smaller lettering on the sign. The fenced area was protecting a nest of sea turtle eggs. More than 200 eggs were under the sand, safe and sound from predators courtesy of the environmentalists who believed each of those turtles had value. Those who tampered with the nest were threatened with stiff fines and possible jail time.
I wonder what would happen if we valued human life as much as those environmentalists valued the lives of those unborn sea turtles.
Note: I have forgiven myself for the decision made so long ago. I believe with all my heart there is a precious daughter awaiting me in Heaven – perfectly whole and wholly perfect. I know she and my son will have a wonderful time getting to know each other some day.
My doctor said I was too sick to carry my son to full-term. He suggested an abortion - said it was the smart thing to do. My son is 26 now. It was one of the best choices I've ever made.
Within a few minutes, several people had clicked the “like” button, while a few commented that I had made a good decision, and how my decision reinforced the importance of a woman’s right to choose. One particular statement – “I think Ronne's testimony is wonderful. The whole point was, she had a choice. She made the right choice for her.” – made by a woman I respect and admire, resonated with me.
I did indeed have a choice. When Dr Turner, the OB/GYN who believed I would miscarry, encouraged me to “take care of things rather than face the inevitable,” I could have said “yes." But I was pregnant, carrying an innocent, vulnerable human life who didn’t have a vote. Scripture after scripture told me that, even though the pregnancy was unexpected (I was actually in the hospital, hooked up to IVs while the doctors determined whether or not a hysterectomy was necessary), my baby was not an accident, not a mistake. So my decision to NOT have an abortion wasn’t the right choice for me – it was the right choice for him. He deserved every opportunity to experience life, even if the road to get there was difficult. And it was. I was in the hospital for several days as they monitored his heartbeat and health. I almost miscarried at six months, and I still carry the battle scars of a difficult delivery. But it was absolutely worth every moment of laughter and pain.
I also had a choice when I was 18. A bright-eyed freshman at the University of Oklahoma with big plans and the attention of a handsome, smart guy named Chris, I plunged head-long into a dating relationship. He and I met at a frat party (he and I were both pledge class presidents – he of the fraternity and me of the auxiliary “Little Sister” organization), and we rarely spent a day apart. I chose to have sex with him. And I got pregnant. I remember weeping as I told my mom, remember the long conversation with Chris, remember the highly logical “pros/cons” list created used to judge the value of the life I was carrying. He planned to be an attorney, and I had aspirations to be a network television anchor – and the idea of being burdened by a baby just didn’t seem palatable. So, on a chilly December morning, after finishing my first semester finals, Chris and I drove to the doctor’s office and paid our $250 (plus an extra $50 for a RhoGAM shot to protect me just in case the baby’s blood wasn’t O- like mine). I changed into a hospital gown and was moved to a room with an examination table. Placing my feet in the stirrups, the doctor told me everything would be “back to normal” in a few minutes. A long tube was inserted, and I then heard the sound of the machine. I wasn’t asleep, so I witnessed it all - literally felt life being sucked from my body. Despite the pain medication given to me, I felt every contraction as I watched the tube fill. I wanted to scream, but knew it wouldn’t matter. So I kept telling myself, “it’s all going to be better soon.”
There was no counseling before, no counseling after. No one talked to me about other choices I could have made – open adoption or keeping the child (even without the boyfriend in the picture). No one talked to me about possible medical complications that could arise from the act of abortion – medical complications that, for me, would eventually result in an inability to have children. No one talked to me about the guilt I would ultimately experience when I realized the choice I made that was “right for me” ended another person’s life.
Call it what you want. Debate the “viability of life” and “when a human becomes a human” and a woman’s right to choose and who gets the short straw in the “my life or yours” decision. Discuss at length all the variables about health and safety, and include the “incest or rape” factor that affects 1% of all women. I'm not saying choice is a bad word - remember, I've made choices. But when all is said and done, abortion is still defined as “termination” – an ending of potential for someone who didn’t get a vote.
I remember hearing a story once from a man who was on vacation in Florida with his family. They were enjoying time on the beach when they came to a fenced area with huge “CAUTION” signs posted. At first glance, nothing appeared to be inside the fence. As the family grew closer, they could read the smaller lettering on the sign. The fenced area was protecting a nest of sea turtle eggs. More than 200 eggs were under the sand, safe and sound from predators courtesy of the environmentalists who believed each of those turtles had value. Those who tampered with the nest were threatened with stiff fines and possible jail time.
I wonder what would happen if we valued human life as much as those environmentalists valued the lives of those unborn sea turtles.
Note: I have forgiven myself for the decision made so long ago. I believe with all my heart there is a precious daughter awaiting me in Heaven – perfectly whole and wholly perfect. I know she and my son will have a wonderful time getting to know each other some day.
26 December 2009
Lifted up and thankful. A postscript on Christmas.
I explained to a friend just a few weeks ago that it feels as if I am being lifted up by the Lord right now - possibly by the scruff of the neck - as my feet continue to run in place. It's been a time of "live right now in this moment - and listen to what happens" as opposed to my "Scooby Doo" lifestyle (a play off the words "go.be.do" - and one of many nicknames my hubby uses to describe me).
What has living in this moment looked like so far? Of course, it's included food - cooking and baking
for others in the midst of celebration and pain. It's included sitting in the backseat of my own car so someone else can enjoy the best view of the Christmas lights in heated seat comfort on a cold Oklahoma night. It's included redefining birthday celebrations to ensure amazing people aren't forgotten. It's included coffee with someone who won my heart before she ever knew my name. It's included finding lap blankets in just the right colors to make wrinkled faces light up. It's included weeping with a stranger who longs to adopt children abandoned and alone, and holding a friend who feels as though she's the abandonded one. It's included smiling more and laughing more and being a little more quiet. It's included praying - because there's always time to pray.
What have I heard in the midst of the moments? "You would have missed this had your feet been touching the ground."
The go.be.do. list is still full. And should the Lord allow, there are some very exciting things in store for 2010. There's much writing to do. There's a language to learn. There's design magic ready to happen. Th
ere's school to attend. There's a business to launch. There are orphans to help. There are friends to love. There's a family to cherish. And there's skydiving mixed in there somewhere. Whatever gives Him glory...
Perhaps the best quote of the season this year came from my "cup of coffee" moment. Posted on her blog, http://thesimplypeachy.com/, it cuts to the core of my heart. I'm thankful for a God who so passionately loves me. I'm thankful for a the grace of a Saviour, the hope of the Christ, the peace of our Lord. He is life in my veins.
What has living in this moment looked like so far? Of course, it's included food - cooking and baking
for others in the midst of celebration and pain. It's included sitting in the backseat of my own car so someone else can enjoy the best view of the Christmas lights in heated seat comfort on a cold Oklahoma night. It's included redefining birthday celebrations to ensure amazing people aren't forgotten. It's included coffee with someone who won my heart before she ever knew my name. It's included finding lap blankets in just the right colors to make wrinkled faces light up. It's included weeping with a stranger who longs to adopt children abandoned and alone, and holding a friend who feels as though she's the abandonded one. It's included smiling more and laughing more and being a little more quiet. It's included praying - because there's always time to pray.What have I heard in the midst of the moments? "You would have missed this had your feet been touching the ground."
The go.be.do. list is still full. And should the Lord allow, there are some very exciting things in store for 2010. There's much writing to do. There's a language to learn. There's design magic ready to happen. Th
ere's school to attend. There's a business to launch. There are orphans to help. There are friends to love. There's a family to cherish. And there's skydiving mixed in there somewhere. Whatever gives Him glory...Perhaps the best quote of the season this year came from my "cup of coffee" moment. Posted on her blog, http://thesimplypeachy.com/, it cuts to the core of my heart. I'm thankful for a God who so passionately loves me. I'm thankful for a the grace of a Saviour, the hope of the Christ, the peace of our Lord. He is life in my veins.
“I’m tired of being a skeptic, I’m irritated by spiritual prudence and I feel bored and parched by empirical debate. I don’t want to hear it anymore. I couldn’t care less about evidence and proof and assurances. I just want God. I want God inside me. I want God to play in my bloodstream the way sunlight amuses itself on water." -Elizabeth Gilbert
12 December 2009
A letter for you. Yes, you.
Every year, I craft a Christmas letter full of updates and pictures. This year, the letter included in our seed paper cards (yes, I did say seed paper) is a bit different. Warning: there is an invitation included in the text. If you read it, I do ask that you prayerfully consider it. We've received a few requests, but to be perfectly honestly, I'm praying there are at least a few more._________________
Amazing, isn’t it, that you would be receiving a Christmas letter so early! Even if you’re not big on the whole “holiday letter” thing, I do ask that you read this one, because you’ll be answering my prayer when you do!
I would write on and on about all the amazing things that have taken place this year at CasaRock, but I wonder how much would sound like every other year. We work, we play, we are blessed to get to minister and travel some and spend at least a little time with friends and family. With others, we’ve walked through the absolute joy of new life, and have walked through the painful yet hopeful journey of death. We’ve been inspired and challenged to take risks and grow, personally and professionally. There are amazing days and boring days, all edited together into a perfectly imperfect life. Gosh, I love that imperfection, because it reminds me of how precious and beautiful life is when it’s wrapped up in the Lord’s grace and mercy.
OK, so I guess I’d better get back to the whole “you’ll be answering my prayer” part of the letter, shouldn’t I? Perhaps it’s because of that imperfectly beautiful life we’re living, or perhaps it’s because I celebrated a milestone birthday; maybe it’s because I’ve spent more time than ever with the fatherless and forgotten, or maybe we’re just tired of feeling guilty about throwing away used wrapping paper, but Brad and I have decided not to celebrate Christmas in the traditional sense this year. Rather, I’ve dubbed this season “Christ-giving” – beginning the week of Thanksgiving and continuing on well beyond Christmas Day. You see, we’ve been blessed beyond measure. We’re rich in what counts, and we’ve got more than enough to get us by. So, we are not purchasing Christmas gifts for each other th
is year. In fact, if our family and close friends agree to it, we’re not purchasing gifts for them either – because at the end of the day, we all have everything we need and more besides. Instead, we invite you to help us do something different.Tell us about people who could really use a gift this year.
The person could be someone in your neighborhood or at your church – a single mom struggling to put food on the table, or a family fighting to keep things afloat due to a medical crisis. Maybe someone needs a warm coat or a home-cooked meal. Gosh, maybe someone just needs a kind word and a smile, or a cup of coffee and a listening ear. And if that person is you, that’s OK too. Just send an email to givechristmas@gmail.com, with some details. Don’t worry - this is a private email account, and the emails will be kept that way too.
We certainly don’t have a ton of resources to share, but I keep being reminded of lyrics to a Hillsong United tune, “I know I’m filled to be emptied again, the seed I’ve received I will sow.” So, we’ll do what we can to help all we can. We’ll wrangle others to help us if needed (if you’d like to be “wrangled,” let me know). And we’ll definitely be praying for each and every person, because we believe in and have witnessed its amazing power. In fact, it’s prayer that got us to this place in the first place. We’re not that “holy” or cool – we’re just convicted to look at things in a fresh light.
I realize I’ve not been completely honest in saying we want no gifts this year, because we would like one gift from you, our family and friends. Time. Nothing would give us greater joy than to simply spend a little time with you – enjoying a good meal or relaxing on the boat or taking in the sights on a roadtrip or talking till the wee hours of the morning. We know physical time can be tough, so whether it’s in person, by phone, via email or chat or Skype, or in a real paper letter, we’d love to live just a little more life with you. We want our “Christ-giving” to last throughout the year. So let’s put something on the calendar, in ink. Seriously.
I’ll close with a commentary written by Matthew Henry – it’s about Isaiah 9 (you know the scripture even if you don’t read the Bible: “Wonderful Counselor, Almighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace,” the inspiration for “Hallelujah Chorus”).
(Jesus) was born for the benefit of us men, of us sinners, of all believers, from the beginning to the end of the world. Justly is He called Wonderful, for He is both God and man. His love is the wonder of angels and glorified saints. He is the Counselor, for He knew the counsels of God from eternity; and He gives counsel to men, in which He consults our welfare. He is the Wonderful Counselor; none teaches like Him. He is God, the mighty One. Such is the work of the Mediator, that no less power than that of the mighty God could bring it to pass. He is God, one with the Father. As the Prince of Peace, he reconciles us to God; He is the Giver of peace in the heart and conscience; and when His kingdom is fully established, men shall learn war no more. The government shall be upon Him; He shall bear the burden of it. Glorious things are spoken of Christ's government. There is no end to the increase of its peace, for the happiness of its subjects shall last forever.
It’s our real, gut-level prayer that you will get to know Jesus. He’s more than a baby in a nativity scene, and He’s more than a name used at the end of prayer. A lot more.
A most merry and joyful “Christ-giving” season to you.
Love,
Ronne (with a hearty endorsement from Brad)
P.S. If you want to keep up with our comings and goings, you can find us on Facebook and on Twitter (@LoveWriteCook and @bradleykrock). And if you’d like to read about the journey of a gal who loves to tell stories, you can find my blog at http://christstumbler.blogspot.com.
P.S. If you want to keep up with our comings and goings, you can find us on Facebook and on Twitter (@LoveWriteCook and @bradleykrock). And if you’d like to read about the journey of a gal who loves to tell stories, you can find my blog at http://christstumbler.blogspot.com.
31 January 2009
Bright and Dark.
When I think about the blessings in my life, the list grows quickly:
•My prince of a husband, who continues to lavish me with love even when I’m far from lovable
•My precious son – truly the apple of my eye, who causes my heart to leap every time I think of him
•My wonderful daughter-in-love – I always dreamed of having a daughter, and the Lord has answered my prayer in ways too powerful for words
•My “family” – a wonderful mixed bag of real relatives and adopted ones who sustain me, bless me, and remind me of the importance of community
•My Millie and the ever-enthusiastic Reese Rock
The list would be cluttered with amazing experiences that gently linger like the warm fragrance of my sweetheart’s cologne after he’s hugged me or the scent of rosemary on my hands when I clip sprigs for a recipe. There would be the vibrant hues of the turquoise and teal ocean lapping on the shore of the beach at Petit St Vincent, or the sound snow makes when the skis gently glide on it at the Nordic Center at Breckenridge. The list would certainly contain the kiss of the sun when the boat is anchored in a cove at Lake Travis, the joyous pile of messy dishes stacked every Sunday evening at the end of a great dinner with my adopted family, and the experience of watching a movie under a blanket of stars at night in the backyard, with the fire glowing nearby. Laughter would be on that list. Lots of laughter. Oh, how I love laughter.
There would be words on the list – beautiful words.
“I am smitten with you.”
“You have a healthy baby boy!”
“Ian and Gina Rock.”
“You are a rare bird.”
“Your son did an amazing job preaching last night.”
On the list, too, would be blessings of another kind. Blessings that, to the untrained eye, may look more like tragedy, more like curses. But with the passage of time and, through the tender lens of eternity, I find myself so thankful for each messy, dark, haunting moment.
I might find myself a bit reticent to continue the list – perhaps because I wonder what others might think of me should they stumble upon it. But I’m not one of great consequence beyond that which the Lord allows, so the list could very well end up being a personal “treasure” if He opts not to have anyone find it. And should it be discovered at all, perhaps it would inspire someone to embrace each moment, each experience, as a piece of a Divine gift of redemption, mercy, grace, forgiveness, sanctification, and joy.
The dark blessings, like the bright ones, are expressed in experiences. But unlike the bright ones, these blessings are shrouded in what best can be described as a dreamy haze. The color has been drained, a soundtrack of sorts added – a blend of music and scripture and healing words.
“You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done…” (Gen. 50:20)
“And I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from God’s love. Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow—not even the powers of hell can separate us from God’s love.” (Romans 8:38)
On the list would be sexual abuse at the hands of a relative when I was a young girl and physical abuse at the hands of a spouse when I was a young adult. There would be the hunger for love from an alcoholic father, and the unseemly road of relationships that same hunger led me to as a teenager. There would be the goodness of a mom’s biscuits and gravy, in a desperate attempt for comfort after a most difficult and heart-wrenching choice was made in college. And reaching for that same goodness when a mom’s gentle touch would no longer be felt.
Yes, death would be on the list – the saying “goodbye” to dreams and hopes and family and friends. Unanswered questions would be on the list. Loneliness and struggle and doubt and fear would be there. Mistakes and blunders.
There would be more words on the list – small snippets of conversations, captured like a photograph.
“I’m only staying in this marriage because of you.”
“You’ll never amount to anything.”
“Unfortunately, the baby just couldn’t survive…”
“Sweetie, she’s gone.”
”They want to do a biopsy, but I know the cancer’s back.”
Laughter would once again make its way to list. Laughter and dancing in the midst of the pain. Because again, this list is about blessings. And again, the blessings are seen through the lens of eternity.
I pray to not neglect the blessings – both bright and dark – as they continue to mold and shape this life I’ve been given. I pray to savor the experiences. I pray to always hear the laughter.
“We are assured and know that [God being a partner in their labor] all things work together and are [fitting into a plan] for good to and for those who love God and are called according to [His] design and purpose.” (Romans 8:28)
•My prince of a husband, who continues to lavish me with love even when I’m far from lovable
•My precious son – truly the apple of my eye, who causes my heart to leap every time I think of him
•My wonderful daughter-in-love – I always dreamed of having a daughter, and the Lord has answered my prayer in ways too powerful for words
•My “family” – a wonderful mixed bag of real relatives and adopted ones who sustain me, bless me, and remind me of the importance of community
•My Millie and the ever-enthusiastic Reese Rock
The list would be cluttered with amazing experiences that gently linger like the warm fragrance of my sweetheart’s cologne after he’s hugged me or the scent of rosemary on my hands when I clip sprigs for a recipe. There would be the vibrant hues of the turquoise and teal ocean lapping on the shore of the beach at Petit St Vincent, or the sound snow makes when the skis gently glide on it at the Nordic Center at Breckenridge. The list would certainly contain the kiss of the sun when the boat is anchored in a cove at Lake Travis, the joyous pile of messy dishes stacked every Sunday evening at the end of a great dinner with my adopted family, and the experience of watching a movie under a blanket of stars at night in the backyard, with the fire glowing nearby. Laughter would be on that list. Lots of laughter. Oh, how I love laughter.
There would be words on the list – beautiful words.
“I am smitten with you.”
“You have a healthy baby boy!”
“Ian and Gina Rock.”
“You are a rare bird.”
“Your son did an amazing job preaching last night.”
On the list, too, would be blessings of another kind. Blessings that, to the untrained eye, may look more like tragedy, more like curses. But with the passage of time and, through the tender lens of eternity, I find myself so thankful for each messy, dark, haunting moment.
I might find myself a bit reticent to continue the list – perhaps because I wonder what others might think of me should they stumble upon it. But I’m not one of great consequence beyond that which the Lord allows, so the list could very well end up being a personal “treasure” if He opts not to have anyone find it. And should it be discovered at all, perhaps it would inspire someone to embrace each moment, each experience, as a piece of a Divine gift of redemption, mercy, grace, forgiveness, sanctification, and joy.
The dark blessings, like the bright ones, are expressed in experiences. But unlike the bright ones, these blessings are shrouded in what best can be described as a dreamy haze. The color has been drained, a soundtrack of sorts added – a blend of music and scripture and healing words.
“You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done…” (Gen. 50:20)
“And I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from God’s love. Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow—not even the powers of hell can separate us from God’s love.” (Romans 8:38)
On the list would be sexual abuse at the hands of a relative when I was a young girl and physical abuse at the hands of a spouse when I was a young adult. There would be the hunger for love from an alcoholic father, and the unseemly road of relationships that same hunger led me to as a teenager. There would be the goodness of a mom’s biscuits and gravy, in a desperate attempt for comfort after a most difficult and heart-wrenching choice was made in college. And reaching for that same goodness when a mom’s gentle touch would no longer be felt.
Yes, death would be on the list – the saying “goodbye” to dreams and hopes and family and friends. Unanswered questions would be on the list. Loneliness and struggle and doubt and fear would be there. Mistakes and blunders.
There would be more words on the list – small snippets of conversations, captured like a photograph.
“I’m only staying in this marriage because of you.”
“You’ll never amount to anything.”
“Unfortunately, the baby just couldn’t survive…”
“Sweetie, she’s gone.”
”They want to do a biopsy, but I know the cancer’s back.”
Laughter would once again make its way to list. Laughter and dancing in the midst of the pain. Because again, this list is about blessings. And again, the blessings are seen through the lens of eternity.
I pray to not neglect the blessings – both bright and dark – as they continue to mold and shape this life I’ve been given. I pray to savor the experiences. I pray to always hear the laughter.
“We are assured and know that [God being a partner in their labor] all things work together and are [fitting into a plan] for good to and for those who love God and are called according to [His] design and purpose.” (Romans 8:28)
29 December 2008
A New Song.
Psalm 149:1-4 Hallelujah! Sing to GOD a brand-new song,
praise Him in the company of all who love Him.
Let all Israel celebrate their Sovereign Creator,
Zion's children exult in their King.
Let them praise His name in dance;
strike up the band and make great music!
And why? Because GOD delights in His people,
festoons plain folk with salvation garlands!
I’m not a songwriter. And while I love to dance, I don’t necessarily fancy myself a great one. So to think about singing to God a NEW song – a song that has not yet ever been sung – is difficult for me to comprehend.
Music is such a powerful thing in my life. My husband laughs that my brain is a repository for any and every song I’ve ever heard (a road trip with satellite radio brought that fact to light for him). The melodies, the harmonies, the lyrics all blending together, cutting through the silence with mood and emotion and message-
What would a new song sound like, if I penned it? What would others hear if they listened to the song of my life? If it were written right now, reflecting back on 2008, perhaps it would be a symphony in 5 movements. The theme would be time.
There would be strings, hauntingly beautiful, with words of heartache and tenderness. My journeys to Guatemala and Honduras, my travels to the US/Mexico border. My visits to Beaumont, Midland, and Lubbock. Precious moments spent with beautiful children abandoned, rejected, cast aside.
There would the precious sounds of flute and harp and piano. Juxtaposed against the strings, even more beautiful and delicate, the movement would celebrate unity and love and life and tenderness. My husband. My children. My gifts.
There would be an overture of woodwinds – oboe and sax, filled with struggle and angst against a backdrop of drums. My endless hours on the road, trying so hard to remain faithful to the cause despite the whispers and attacks. The music would be enough – no words. And the movement would end abruptly, with one lingering note played from the oboe as the journey ends.
An interlude of flute and strings would then join the oboe. Hope and love remain.
There would be guitar – simple, rich acoustic guitar – filling the room with tender melodies and lyrics of refreshing and healing. The time spent with family and friends in gentle conversation, in worship, in laughter, in writings. The movement would resonate with names of the guardians of my heart.
And the final movement would be voices – children’s voices singing “Holy holy holy.” Voices singing “Great is Thy faithfulness.” Voices singing “I am Thine.” Voices singing to the power and the presence of a truly ALL Mighty, ALL Powerful God. A God Who delights in me and adorns me with His salvation. He indeed is worth celebrating. He indeed deserves a new song.
praise Him in the company of all who love Him.
Let all Israel celebrate their Sovereign Creator,
Zion's children exult in their King.
Let them praise His name in dance;
strike up the band and make great music!
And why? Because GOD delights in His people,
festoons plain folk with salvation garlands!
I’m not a songwriter. And while I love to dance, I don’t necessarily fancy myself a great one. So to think about singing to God a NEW song – a song that has not yet ever been sung – is difficult for me to comprehend.
Music is such a powerful thing in my life. My husband laughs that my brain is a repository for any and every song I’ve ever heard (a road trip with satellite radio brought that fact to light for him). The melodies, the harmonies, the lyrics all blending together, cutting through the silence with mood and emotion and message-
What would a new song sound like, if I penned it? What would others hear if they listened to the song of my life? If it were written right now, reflecting back on 2008, perhaps it would be a symphony in 5 movements. The theme would be time.
There would be strings, hauntingly beautiful, with words of heartache and tenderness. My journeys to Guatemala and Honduras, my travels to the US/Mexico border. My visits to Beaumont, Midland, and Lubbock. Precious moments spent with beautiful children abandoned, rejected, cast aside.
There would the precious sounds of flute and harp and piano. Juxtaposed against the strings, even more beautiful and delicate, the movement would celebrate unity and love and life and tenderness. My husband. My children. My gifts.
There would be an overture of woodwinds – oboe and sax, filled with struggle and angst against a backdrop of drums. My endless hours on the road, trying so hard to remain faithful to the cause despite the whispers and attacks. The music would be enough – no words. And the movement would end abruptly, with one lingering note played from the oboe as the journey ends.
An interlude of flute and strings would then join the oboe. Hope and love remain.
There would be guitar – simple, rich acoustic guitar – filling the room with tender melodies and lyrics of refreshing and healing. The time spent with family and friends in gentle conversation, in worship, in laughter, in writings. The movement would resonate with names of the guardians of my heart.
And the final movement would be voices – children’s voices singing “Holy holy holy.” Voices singing “Great is Thy faithfulness.” Voices singing “I am Thine.” Voices singing to the power and the presence of a truly ALL Mighty, ALL Powerful God. A God Who delights in me and adorns me with His salvation. He indeed is worth celebrating. He indeed deserves a new song.
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