Spencer's Mom

Except a kernel of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone: but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit.

Spencersmom.com Turns 10!

 I press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus. Philippians 3:14

Blog: (noun) a website containing a writer’s or group of writers’ own experiences, observations, opinions, etc.

Blogged, blogging (verb)

 August 2011, ten years ago, I wrote my first blog. I blogged. I looked it up first, and when I saw I could just throw my opinion out there on the World Wide Web, like casting a trawl net into the ocean, I was intrigued. And so it began. Blogging. You can read my first blog here.

It was inspired by a refrigerator magnet that I still have. It says:

Everyone is entitled to my opinion.

 I still think that is hysterical, partly because I believe it’s true. My mother’s nickname for me as a mouthy little girl was “last word Lucy.” My words have gotten me into a world of trouble. Taming my tongue has been hard, even discouraging. But God in His long-suffering mercy is teaching me Grace and Silence too. He has also shown me the power of words that are used for His glory, like an arrow pulled back and steadying its aim.

Spencersmom.com began with those in mind, who like myself, were traveling the hidden path, the hard climb with no map in hand. The loss of a child is unquestionably the worst devastation a life can endure. But I have discovered there are many life experiences that derail a soul. Other losses, betrayals, rejection and loneliness. The craving for hope is as universal as the need for air. So, I’ve taken my words and aimed upward. Through all circumstances, and I’ve blogged through many that would seem “unspiritual,” including the Marathon Bomber, Post Concussive Syndrome and Grumpy Old Men, I can point to a lodestar, a safe harbor – a place of healing and redemption. Same answer always – Jesus Christ. You will find no other on this blog. But you will find an opinion that has been tried. As Job declared:

But he knows the way that I take; when he has tried me, I shall come out as gold. Job 23:10

 We live in a world that’s smothered by opinion. I do recognize that mine is not essential. But it seems to me, (in my opinion) that opinions begin and end in the frontal lobe, conceived through intellect and reasoning. Thought out, but never tried in the adversity of lived life. The bigger the brains, the better the opinion. Eventually, you don’t even need your own perspective or belief set – you can just borrow them from others who seem smarter. The danger of “parroting” opinion is that it bears no weight or value. It’s a two-dimensional hand-me-down. Your “view” is a cheap knock-off of the original, and even the original, for all of its glitz and bling, may be faux gold.

Perhaps the best way to discover what you really believe is to suffer, and suffer hard. The refining furnace of pain has a way of whittling away the endless dross of opinion, peripheral doctrine and beliefs. When I buried my son, I was humbled by the house of cards I had built. The neat stack of principles and policies I had constructed for God imploded immediately. In the smoldering heap of ruin, God in His patience and mercy, helped me rebuild. But this time, there would be no house of cards, no neat set of equations and balancing scales. I found that most of my opinions don’t matter. Weightless fluff.

There is a clarity and discernment that is pure and unblemished, a fearlessness of life or death when you finally come through the furnace. It was just Jesus within the fire and there, waiting, when I emerged – more majestic and mysterious than ever. “Follow me,” was my only direction. All obstacles had been stripped away, and the path was clear, His word a lamp for my feet. I find it is most difficult to follow Jesus on a good day – when the sun is bright and the way seems smooth. C.S. Lewis writes, in Screwtape Letters,

“Indeed the safest road to Hell is the gradual one–the gentle slope, soft underfoot, without sudden turnings, without milestones, without signposts.”

Soon we begin to gather those things we at one time surrendered. Our plans, position, our bitterness and self-pity. Sometimes it’s the “blessings” of God that most incumber us. If we’re not careful, we begin to resent God Himself, and His messengers. We are, on this side of heaven, in the flesh and inclined to pitch our tent towards all that dazzles ­and draws our hearts away from the rough climb upward. My son Spencer wrote:

“This life is nothing more than a pilgrimage to heaven. This journey is a journey of the heart.”

 Ah yes! It is more than just a set of footprints. It is a journey of the heart, and that’s why Jesus knew He was handing us enough with just one simple command: Love one another. Ten years goes by in a flash. And in all of my stumbling and fumbling, have I gotten any better at this? I guess others would have to answer that for me. As my words lift into the clamor of opinion, whether spoken, blogged, podcasted or spray-painted, the question is; Do they matter? And most importantly to me– do they glorify God? Have I “walked in love” (Ephesians 5:2)? Have I hit the mark?

 Let your speech always be gracious, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how you ought to answer each person. Colossians 4:6

“Always?” Not me, not yet, but this I still strive for, “pressing towards the mark.”

Thank you, dear friend and reader, for 10 years of following along, or maybe just stopping by once, and sifting my words. Thank you for GRACE. May you find pure gold and words that edify and equip you for this journey – the call upward in Christ Jesus, a “journey of the heart.” And that’s much more than just my opinion. It’s the Way, the Truth and Life. It is the answer.

Ten years later, still on the fridge!

 

On The Other Side of the Bed : Six Take-a-Ways From a Nurse Who Became a Patient

My tail is showing!

I held the remote loosely in my hand, respectful of the power within. How many times had I reviewed the colored buttons? The yellow light bulb, green TV in big letters flanked by volume and channel buttons, then the large red button at the top, which for many years had a nurse icon of a woman wearing a hat. “That’s me in the hat.” I’d say. Some laughed, some didn’t.

My thumb moved up to the red button and I drew a breath and pressed. It lit up and I could hear what sounded like a soft “ding…ding…ding” echoing up the hall. Interesting, I thought. It doesn’t sound that quiet at the nurses’ station, where it merges with at least four other alarms at any given time. Once I counted eight.

I had intentionally waited past change-of-shift- report, and in my mind I saw a nurse on the phone or in another patient’s room, a CNA or tech as they were called at this hospital, trying to make her rounds glancing at my light on, and the mental bulletin board that now has one more thing tacked to it. And I also knew that if I tried to get up to the bathroom on my own,  an alarm that must’ve been created by a prison warden would sound, and then a small crowd of harried personnel would descend upon me, part angry, part relieved that I am not splayed across the floor. So I waited.

I thought about my over 30 years of taking care of people like me, wearing oversized johnnies, helpless, grumpy – how sometimes I would see them as broken objects that required multiple tasks and interventions just to keep them alive (ER nursing), or as almost inanimate beings that had been culled apart into varying systems that somehow would become a whole (ICU). I remember my disappointment on my first day as a critical care nurse when I realized that for the most part, none of my patients could respond. They were intubated, surrounded by chirping pumps, flashing numbers and squawking ventilators. For this reason, I have always been drawn back to bedside nursing. Holding the hand of dying man or dancing in the bathroom with an Alzheimer’s patient, finding a place of trust and truth with the addict, or just making someone laugh; I know it’s a gift God gave me.

“Thank you for your care,” an elderly man told me a few weeks ago. “You have a way of taking away my anxiety.” We can’t always fix everyone, but we can make the day a little less daunting. I think I would’ve loved working with Florence Nightingale – the Grand Dame of the bedside. She was tough but compassionate, a zealous advocate for her patients. Maybe I could carry her lamp.

They say nurses make the worst patients. Define “worst.” I’ve cared for sick people for decades  in a huge variety of settings. Nurses don’t normally like the tables turned. Really, we can take care of ourselves. Yet I was humbled during my recent three night stay which was supposed to be just one. Oh, those irritating little complications which just seemed to pop up like a Whack-a-mole game in an arcade. My vison for my surgery was an easy one – hopping away with accolades from the healthcare team. I would overhear someone say, “Isn’t she remarkable, how quickly she was up and running!” Well, no – it didn’t go that way at all, starting in recovery when my blood pressure read 70 then a pesky bleed that required three units of blood, then a night of muscle spasms so intense I begged the nurse to empty the full arsenal of available pain killers into my mouth and veins. My last words to this kind soul were, “Do you think I might stop breathing?” Honestly, I didn’t care. Maybe she didn’t either. I woke up six hours later knowing right away I was not in heaven, but pain free. If you know me well at all, words like Stubborn, Obstinate, Willful might be in your descriptive cache, but I can argue (obstinately) that those are sometimes good traits. Yet as I lay in bed, unable to do anything on my own other than work the remote with the big red button at the top, I was humbled. And grateful.

I did not like being called a hero during the Covid pandemic. Yes, I cared for Covid patients. I became a nurse during the AIDS epidemic, when all anyone knew about it was that it killed. We didn’t know how, we just knew if we got it, we would die. So we wore what looked like Hazmat suits into their rooms, not knowing any better. Eventually we learned the truth, and we could sit next to them and hug them if they needed it. They often did. That’s a hero, looking beyond the disease and loving someone. The nurses on our Covid floor and ICU who went beyond the call of duty to make sure no one had to die alone – that’s a hero. But so is the nurse’s aide who bathes the withdrawing alcoholic from head to toe, shaves him and combs his hair so that some sort of dignity is retained. We are humans with a gift to love the un-loveables and bring mercy and light to those gripped by the sudden unknowns of sickness and injury. Sometimes we heal; sometimes we just hold hands. Or dance.

       Oh yeah! Now for six take-aways in no particular order.

  1. For my peers – every nurse, tech, aide, call bell-answerer – don’t take every patient personally. We are not mad at you! We just found out we’re not in control, and maybe a bit scared. Or grumpy, even sad. No reflection on YOU – just be kind. Smile. Be your beautiful self.
  2. Don’t be a nurse if you don’t care. Or doctor, or PA or NP. The patient can tell and is not wowed by your MENSA IQ, your flip dismissal of their true needs or seeing your name on the bleeping whiteboard.
  3. Patients – past, present and future. Just because your nurse is sitting down doesn’t mean she is shopping on Amazon. He or she could be saving your life by checking your labs, vital signs, meds and orders. If it sounds quiet, it could be because everyone is in another room saving a life, or cleaning up a colossal mess. Short answer; you don’t know.
  4. Your nurse or aide is not your Personal Care Assistant. We are REALLY busy with other patients and families, trying to help the sickest first. Be glad you are NOT the sickest! This is 2021 – resources are scarce, including our time. We are stretched to the outermost. Add this to the “new Normal.”
  5. I pray in the parking lot every morning before work. I ask Jesus to make me more like Him, to be a slice of God’s light in an often dark place. Sometimes, when the light starts to dim, I have to pray again in the bathroom. God doesn’t care. Same for when I was a patient, although my prayer was more like this: Help!!! He likes that one too. So if you don’t know Jesus, you really should. He hears us.
  6. Don’t bring make-up or even a hairbrush to the hospital. Something about those hospital johnnies liberates you from caring one iota about how you look.

I am home and hobbled for a while, but I think about my coworkers more than I thought I would. I work with an amazing team of nurses, CNA’s, NPs, docs and housekeepers. And an amazing manager. Pandemic or not, they are my heroes. And this is coming from a nurse who just crossed over into the bed. And was humbled.

“My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.” — Psalm 73:26

 

Home!

 

 

 

 

If You Have a Cough, Fever or You’ve Just Had Enough

He will be the sure foundation for your times, a rich store of salvation and wisdom and knowledge; the fear of the LORD is the key to this treasure. Isaiah 36:6

  “If you have a cough, sore throat or fever, please report immediately to airport security at your terminal.” Then in Chinese, the same message would follow. It was January 6th 2020, and I was in the Hong Kong International Airport for a three-hour layover. I would hear this message repeat approximately 15 times before I left. By then, it had become a droning din along with all the other announcements in mostly Chinese. But looking back, I should’ve wondered just a little. I should’ve felt the earth rumble beneath my feet, the world shifting and groaning for the unthinkable – a world-wide pandemic. Instead I climbed aboard a 737 jet stuffed with college students from China returning to school in the US after a long winter break. As I settled in for a 20hour flight, my last leg home from Malaysia after visiting my son and his family for Christmas, the last thing on my mind was how a small microbe from China would change the world. Just three days later, the WHO announced what the Hong Kong airport already knew – the discovery of a mysterious virus in Wuhan China.

Little microbes everywhere!

Fast-forward one year. My car is littered with masks. I have learned the Social Distance dance, where body language determines intimacy, as we dosey – dose into an elbow bump or maybe just a flapping hand that looks like a wounded pigeon. We are New Englanders here, so the six feet rule in itself is no hardship. Yet for loved ones, especially those who are vulnerable, we are charting new waters without a compass. We are too cautious or blatantly reckless. No one gets it just right.

Tomorrow marks 19 years since my son Spencer died. The earth did more than rumble that day – it opened up and swallowed me whole. When I could emerge and look around, my world was completely changed. Anyone who’s lost a child knows this – you don’t put your life back together. You must build a new one. Nineteen years later, I can see back to those early days of smoke and rubble. Yet there was one thing that did not change – my God. I couldn’t feel it or even see it for a while, but I had a foundation to build on, I had a Helper to build alongside of me. “Come to me,” Jesus says, “and I will give you rest.” As long as I stayed close by, it wasn’t even hard. Tedious, tiresome and slow. But there was rest.

Nineteen years is a long time to miss your boy. But I look at what God has built, in my life and the lives of those I love most and prayed for most, and I am grateful. When Moses shuddered and stalled before stepping back into Egypt to face Pharaoh,  God simply said, “Tell them I AM sent you.”

I AM answers every question before it’s even asked.

I AM omnipotent.

I AM omniscient.

I AM the Beginning and the End – the Author and Finisher of your faith.

I AM mercy and wrath, justice and grace, holy and Love everlasting.

And a sure foundation.

I’ve never had a problem with fearing God. The One who strings the stars also formed me in the womb. He heard my cry from the wreckage of a life lived without him, and He reached into the sludge and rescued me. I am more in awe of His power and grace now, 33 years later, than then. I don’t want to take a step without Him. It’s a holy fear – the good kind. And when I met Jesus, the one He sent to redeem and save us, all of heaven threw a party. All of God’s kids get a party – they really know how to have fun in heaven

There’s different kinds of devastation. Losing your child is a head-on collision. In one second – it’s all over. Covid-19 is a slow leak. We think we can fix it, or at least slow it down, but then we see another leak. For all we’ve done, or not done, it’s worse than ever. We’re tired now, just doggie-paddling with the current, masks on.  Uncertainty blankets the future, anxiety morphs into hopelessness. I will not give you more numbers – percentage spikes in addiction, suicide and violence. Bleak economic predictions. It’s just not good.

“Come to me all you who are weary and heavy-laden.” Jesus again. How does He know? Refer back to the I AM part of this blog.

I admit I get weary too. I’m not sure when I can fly to Malaysia again. I’m not sure my vaccination will work or won’t kill me. I’m a nurse in a hospital filled up with Covid patients and I want to die when I put on PPE that feels like I’m shrink-wrapped and talking through a wad of Wet Wipes.

God is there and He’s waiting. In a world that can’t control a microbe, God is still in control. A sure foundation – won’t you go to Him? Jesus has His arms open wide, and once He has you, He will never let you go.  Heaven waits for another party and I hope it’s yours.

 

In Christ Alone

By Celtic Worship

 

 

 

The Prize

 

“God help me to know and to live like the time is short. To give you all I have today. Tomorrow is really not promised.

  • Spencer Macleod

 

The quote you just read was written by a 19-year-old. Less than three years later, he left this world forever, his life complete three weeks short of his 22nd birthday. Above my bureau, which is splayed with earrings and makeup and half-used perfume bottles, a picture of Spencer hangs, printed on a board with his words etched across the top. He is holding a microphone, he’s in South Africa, sharing his testimony and Christian rap he wrote with hundreds of high school students. His face is tan, focused.  And he is looking upward.

Looking up – I have to post reminders around my chaotic life, reminders to reorient my perspective, my vision. Things are fairly dismal on planet earth. We try to speak hopefully of “maybe next year,” when things will return to normal, when we can meet for coffee without being assaulted with a book of rules (a restaurant today asked me to complete a form for the CDC. I declined.) We seek truth, we long for hope. We’re so tired we didn’t even go buy batteries and water for Hurricane Isaias. And God knows we all have enough toilet paper.

I think when you lose a child, you gain a piece of eternity. For the longest time, I simply wanted Spencer back. Don’t tell me he’s in a better place. A better place is sitting at my table, having coffee or pot roast. But slowly my gaze has shifted over the years. I’m looking up. “I press towards the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus” Philippians 3:12. This has been on a blackboard in my dining room for almost 10 years. I used to change the verse, but this one stayed. As my eyes catch the chalked scrawl, I am reminded of what matters. Look up.

So what is the prize? I’m not sure. Heaven, just for starters, and that’s reason enough. But I think to God it’s much more specific. He weaves and pulls and stops. And I think sometimes He just steps back and watches and waits. God is not in a hurry, not in a panic over all this. What seems like a fretful mess to us is not a surprise to God Almighty. He is big enough to name the stars of an immeasurable universe, but close enough to speak in a still small voice.

“This is life eternal, that they may know You, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom you have sent.” John 17:3

It sounds like life eternal can start right here. I think that was something my son Spencer figured out as a teenager. He knew heaven was closer than we think. “To give you all I have today.” That’s exactly what God is waiting for.

I learned a new phrase a couple of years ago when my son Miles and his family sold everything and moved to Malaysia. “Third Culture Kids” or TCK’s, are children who spend much of their formative years in a culture other than their parents’ or passport culture. Three of my grandchildren are TCK’s now. Brooklynn, almost 12 and Olive, 10 have had to reconcile their lives to a place that is really not “home” culturally, but have also let go of a place they left over two years ago called “home.” They are in a sense, homeless,  although they love Malaysia. Quincy, age four, thinks he’s Malaysian, even though a classmate calls him “Olaf” who is a snowman. The “third culture” is neither here nor back there. It is a unique life that is separate from both worlds, shared with other TCK’s.

Homeless.  I started to think about this, how it must be hard for these two girls at times, but then I realized they are way ahead of most of us. If we call ourselves Christians, followers of Jesus Christ, then we are all homeless.  We are all TCK’s.

Jesus told us clearly that His kingdom was not of this world. Paul wrote,

“But our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ.” Philippians 3:20

What am I holding on to? What am I keeping in my back pocket “just in case?” What am I stockpiling? Money? Facebook friends? Retirement plans? We have not chosen God – He has  chosen us. If His word is Truth, then “we are not our own, we are bought with a price.” (1Corinthians 6:20)

For a long time after Spence died, the world seemed one-dimensional to me. The life I lived before was gone, and none of it mattered anyway – career, friends, approval. I was holding on to my other two sons with a tenuous grip, but all else seemed pointless.  Even an ocean sunrise or fall foliage looked tacky and fake. My heart had disconnected and I deeply yearned for home, to just check on my son, and maybe have a small conference with Jesus.

Eventually, I resigned myself to life on earth.  Beauty came, but it was not in the ocean or the mountains. It was in the projects of Pawtucket, the faces of all the children who walked through the doors of our little storefront church, many scanning the countertops for something to put in their pocket for later. I found beauty in sitting at a breakfast table with three mentally retarded men, delighted in the new day and amused at their guest. Though my heart still ached for heaven, I had found contentment in the hidden places that God pointed to. Then one day, God gave me His joy. It wasn’t in my work, or even my family. It was when I looked up, across the clouds that blazed behind a dirty city landscape. I was looking for Him and He surprised me with a splash of joy, real joy that brings renewal and hope – just a taste of what’s to come. It’s enough.

Plant your feet firmly therefore within the freedom that Christ has won for us, and do not let yourselves be caught again in the shackles of slavery. Galatians 5:1 Philips

We are Third Culture Kids. We can’t go back; we seem to not quite fit in here. And as Spencer wisely noted 20 years ago now, “Tomorrow is really not promised.”  But there is a beautiful freedom in that, and we DO have a home, a better place, and joy within the journey. On that day, our homecoming, we will be complete.

Look up! Let’s keep our eyes on the prize – the high calling in Christ Jesus.

 

 

 

“God Be With You” by Selah.  Enjoy!

 

Five Hard Lessons for the Christian (or Read the Fine Print)

Enter by the narrow gate; for wide is the gate and broad is the way that leads to destruction, and there are many who go in by it. Because narrow is the gate and difficult is the way which leads to life, and there are few who find it. Matthew 7:13-14

                I feel like I say this a lot lately, “Life is hard. It’s supposed to be.” I say it to crowds, or friends or sometimes strangers. I would not have to say this in most other countries except maybe France, because they know this already. And sometimes I get this back: Blink. Blink. Respectful silence. I know they want to argue. Many know it can be difficult, but most do not agree that it should be. In fact, our culture sets comfort as a priority.

             Okay, I admit I like comfort too. I love my flannel sheets in winter, and I secretly covet those car-starter-uppers on days when snow and wind make just a short walk to the driveway feel like an arctic trek. But I also have learned the benefit of being challenged – at work, at home, in church. Here is where Pride collides with our incompetence or sometimes laziness, where a mirror is held up to self-righteousness and we are uncovered. Our first instinct is to cover and deflect. We get angry, petulant. “I have my rights.” Well, actually you don’t.

Hard Lesson #1. God’s kingdom is not a democracy.

           There are no rights for God’s children because it is an unimaginable privilege and undeserved gift to even know Him, let alone be “joint heirs” to all that is His. Leave your rights at the foot of the cross and make sure you read this disclaimer carefully:

And if children, then heirs—heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ, provided we suffer with him in order that we may also be glorified with him. Romans 8:17

           Ah, the hard part!

Hard Lesson #2: You will suffer if you follow Christ. No sissies allowed. Read this too:

Count it all joy, my brothers,[ when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing. James 1:2-4

            Don’t worry – be happy! We get a variety of trials and they are good for us, because there is no other way to have a faith that is real and unshakeable. And then you get to be perfect, complete, lacking NOTHING. Wow! But first, the fire…

Hard Lesson #3 God does always answer prayer, but sometimes He says No.

           He’s God. He can do whatever He wants and it’s always right and for our good.

Hard Lesson #4 You have to love everyone. E-ver-y-one! No exceptions.

           In fact, God will intentionally bring you unlovables, all those people you really can’t stand. (refer back to Hard Lesson #2).

Hard Lesson #5 It’s not fair.

So the last will be first, and the first last. For many are called, but few chosen. Matthew 20:16 

            Back to the narrow gate. It’s not that Jesus doesn’t want us all crushing the gate, or having to create a wait-list because the line is so long. Jesus really is calling, but few are answering this call. They hear the call, but opt out of the “difficult” part. We want results, guarantees, position. On this side of heaven, there is no reward. Instead you will likely be laughed at, scorned as foolish or ludicrous.

            You don’t mean to tell me that you believe the whole Bible? My mother would ask, one eyebrow raised as if to coach me away from saying something she considered idiotic.

            Yes, I would say. The whole thing. Because it’s not just a book, it is life, from the Giver of Life.

            But what about Blessing? The Promises? Ah yes – lots of those. But read the fine print…

And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are called according to his purpose. Romans 8:28 

            Do you love me? Jesus asked this of Peter three times. Exasperated, Peter finally said, “Lord, you know all things.” He does, He knows what is love and what is just lip-service or lukewarm compliance.

            Called according to His purpose. What if His purpose for my life is obscurity? Or more humiliating than that – a laughing stock, an offense? Elisabeth Elliot noted:

Did the earthly life of our Lord appear to be a thundering success? Would the statistics of souls won, crowds made into fruitful disciples, sermons heeded, commands obeyed, be impressive? Hardly.

            At the foot of the cross, there is a lot of room. There’s no box seats, or roped off sections. It’s you, it’s me, staring into this unfathomable love despite the seeds of evil that are implanted deep in every heart. He is calling me from death to life, into a love I am incapable of but for His immeasurable grace. 

            Follow me. The way is difficult, uncertain. I stumble, waver or sometimes stop dead in my tracks. Which way now?

Jesus Christ had to fathom every sin and every sorrow man could experience, and that is what makes Him seem strange. When we see Him in this aspect we do not know Him, we do not recognize one feature of His life, and we do not know how to begin to follow Him. – Oswald Chambers

            There are times where nothing is familiar. No GPS.

And your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying, “This is the way, walk in it,” when you turn to the right or when you turn to the left. Isaiah 30:21

            God is there, always. Even in the dark, or when the pain is so loud you can’t hear him. Jehovah Shammah: “the Lord is there.” And I am His, the only one that I care to please, and He will lead me according to HIS purpose. Then one day, I will meet him at the narrow gate. I don’t know for sure, but I think Jesus will be there with a huge smile, holding it open just for us. I hope I see you there too, as we enter into the fullness of His joy and glory. Then real life, the one we were made for from the start, will begin.

 

 When Love Was Slain by Selah – Enjoy!

 https://youtu.be/6mcxNJ1BFLU

 

 

Happy New Day

                                          Quincy waving hello from a tuk-tuk

          

                The rooster crowed into the darkness around me. I squinted at my phone – 2:30 am. I could hear the music outside still playing, hints of western pop with a Khmer karaoke overlay which sounded not as bad as you’d imagine, or maybe I was just amused. My New Year was ringing in, even though I was too exhausted to stay awake until midnight, despite the neighborhood dogs barking into the thick smoky Cambodian air. Our “deranged rooster” as my daughter-in-law aptly named him, was heralding 2020 a bit early, but I lay awake now, fully alert to all of the unfamiliar sounds around me. At a time when most people. including me, are prone to looking ahead – to a new year, new start, new diet, I lingered in the moment, letting my senses capture the strange land around me. My granddaughter’s rhythmic breathing beside me brought an other-worldly peace beneath the din and revelry outside the window. 

            We talk a lot about vision and that’s not a bad thing. Humans need hope just to survive. Soldiers dream of the girl at home, of mom’s baking while the earth turns to fire around them. The castaway hopes for a ship passing by. Maybe this year you want a new job, a husband or health. The ability to dream, to look ahead is God-given. It is the mark that faith aims at. But it is not faith.

            Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. Hebrews 11:1

            Some translations use the word assurance instead of substance. That means we already know that we have what we hope for. It is a robust, whole and complete hope, not a desperate or vague hope. It is knowing that whether we are in Cambodia or Cape Cod, we are still sojourners. We are not there yet; this is not our home. We are assured of that and we can not only rest in that, we can live fully and walk with purpose and conviction because we know where we are going. Our vision? Bringing others along. Using our God-given gifts to point them to Jesus. the Fountain of Life, so that they need nothing more along the Way.

            But whoever drinks of the water that I shall give him will never thirst. But the water that I shall give him will become in him a fountain of water springing up into everlasting life.” John 4:14

            “Whoever.” Malaysians, Cambodians, Koreans, Chinese, Nepalese, Iranians, West Africans, Pakistani. I was privileged to worship Jesus alongside all of these nationalities while I was vising my son and his family over Christmas but in God’s eyes we are just His kids, with all of the stumbling and wandering tendencies that children have. We don’t need a vision, or even a plan. We need to come to Him daily, sometimes moment to moment – and never thirst.

            “I’ve learned to stop looking ahead,” a friend told me recently. She and her husband have been side by side in the trenches ever since his cancer diagnosis several months ago. “I’ve got today, and that is enough. I just trust God with the rest.” There was so much wisdom in that, for all of us. That’s what got me thinking about the moment, how many God has hidden in each day, like He’s saying, “Look! Over here!” Use your eyes and ears and hands and heart right here, right now.
           For from his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace. John 1:14(ESV)

            Everlasting, eternal grace.

            I am 63. There is a lot more road behind me than before me. Maybe that’s one reason why I can linger now in the priceless moments God gives me. An out of sync rooster, watching my grandchildren play with children they can’t understand but each knowing the universal language of laughter, or singing Feliz Navidad in a Cambodian church (they really love this song for some reason) and the joy we share that transcends culture.

            All these people died in faith, without having received the things they were promised. However, they saw them and welcomed them from afar. And they acknowledged that they were strangers and exiles on the earth. Hebrews 11:1           

            We already have everything we need to make it to 2021, and each year after, until God’s children pass through the heavenly gates. But it’s what we do along the way that matters most. Let’s pray God opens our eyes to the moment, so we can love those He brings our way, and show them the way home – step by step, grace upon grace.

            Happy 2020 friends – and Happy Sunday or whatever day you’re in. May the road lead you to Christ Jesus, Fountain of Everlasting Life, and His hidden treasure along the Way.

 

(Below is clip of children playing:)

IMG_1829