Tuesday, December 10, 2013

the Kingdom amid the dying and the living

Last week as the family of Alese Coco said goodbye to her, another young girl was born and with her another family...Laura and Adam became parents of the very premature Madisen at one pound, seven ounces. no doubt "touch and go" can't begin to describe the tentativeness of these days of waiting to see if Madi will make it through several more months of NICU to emerge like a little butterfly from a cocoon of plastic and medical miracles to become a functional human being. Pray for them; such shock, such adjustment and such a commitment that must be made to this long and difficult process. But in and through the tentative new life comes the healing of other wounds and the resting of other fears and conflicts that had plagued.

Last week, Ian Paisley, the darling of the staunchest of the opposers to any kind of joint government in Northern Ireland, took a co-regency of sorts with the former head of Sinn Fein and thus laid to rest his years of words and pomposity about those horrible Catholics he had so viciously hated and so vocally decried. I heard him more than once in the sixties as he came here to seek support for a "protestant" government and way of life. No one seemed to take into account that it was the same Jesus. the same God. the same Mary and Joseph, for heaven's sake, that they hated over! But now, at 81, it seems that he has thought better of setting up an orange state, that perhaps orange and green aren't such a horrid combination. Other fears and conflicts laid to rest. Other new challenges birthed. Pray for them, too.

And today, Jerry Falwell, the man of the hour at the height of the moral majority, died. He, too, spent much time defaming and decrying liberals, people who weren't like him, even people who worshiped the same Jesus and loved the same God but did so with a different sense of social conscience than his. He, like Paisley, wanted to see a "protestant state" in this country, a political and legal "return" to a sort of theocracy that most of us would not have recognized as such had it been made possible. But in the words of the "begats" of scripture, "and he died."

In contrast, the Wittenburg Door (to which if you are not a subscriber, shame on you!) interviewed a young man in this issue whose call to other young people to a "new monasticism" draws from a wide array of spiritual fountains...some of which both Ian and Jerry would decry and others they would immediately embrace. But the point is, the nub of the discussion, is that regardless of the labeling, God's kingdom is coming, one heart at a time, not one political system or candidate or flavor of religion at a time. In essence, what Ian and Jerry both wanted for their countries was effectively Sharia law...it's just that it would have been a Sharia law of "protestant Christianity" and not of Islam.

But because the Kingdom of God does not come through political systems but through changed hearts, Sharia law (whether Islamic or Christian) does not work. A society of people who show love, that give grace, that see the poor fed and the dead raised does not come through "top-down" organization, not even to the tune of millions of conservative donation dollars per year. It is like the parable of the yeast: that kind of change, comes only one life, one heart, one moment, at a time.

Paisley has perhaps recognized in his age that the question he will answer before His God is not, "Did you make Northern Ireland into a Protestant nation, with your glorious self at the helm?" but "Did you love others in such a way that they were irresistably drawn to the Kingdom of God, to the Christ that both you and your political opponents love and adore?"

Change happens, loss comes, babies are born and politicians of many stripes pass into oblivion. But the Kingdom of the King who never dies is the only Kingdom worthy of our pledge of fealty, our devotion and our trust: His is the kingdom, the power and the glory forever...a kingdom not of this world, a power built not on politics or money and a glory that cannot fade away like the raucous words of an angry politician on a rant.

It's not hard to join this kingdom. Agree that He is who He says He is, that He died to pay the penalty you should be paying for your sin, invite Him to take all of you and make you all you never could be on your own...in Jesus' name! It is the simplest and most profound act of loyalty ever: it places us in a family, a kingdom that can never be taken from us, never be replaced by any political or social power. Let the politicians rant. They will die. Let them try to bring Christian Sharia; they will not succeed, for the Kingdom comes inevitably, in the King's perfect way--one heart at a time.

The Idol of Good Theology

Having been sent a critique of a people of this mind tend to be idolators--and the idols (like the golden calf which "represented" Yahweh in Exodus) are "correct theology" or "being Biblical"--and although both of these things are of paramount importance, turning them into idols to be placed above God Himself is a very common, very real danger in Christianity these days. This astounding judgmentalism is quite completely accepted in most Christian circles: However, it makes ME into God (because I have the correct theology, I know the truth, etc.)...and i then qualify myself to judge everyone by MY PERFECT STANDARD. What was it that was said in the book? We live in such an environment of this kind of judgmentalism that we are like fish in water; this is the air we breathe. And it takes quite a bit to shake us out of thinking we have the answers to everything. We don't. And the sooner that the Body of Christ values humility, gentleness, patience and other fruit of God's Spirit over someone's rant about their denomination's brand of biblical truth and how someone else doesn't measure up, the more likely we are to mature into a Body that functions instead of eating itself up with self-righteous bitterness. Hm.............I'm not quite living up to Ephesians 4:1-4 here, am i? pray for me, that i will better learn to love those who believe they are able to judge all, that they are the "only ones left" ("the elijah complex," as my old pastor used to call it), that they can't fellowship with others whose theologies don't "line up" with their version of God's Word, no matter what the other's level of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness and self-control might be. Living out the fruit of God's Spirit isn't enough... One final comment: this book is a WORK OF FICTION. It is, if you will, a parable, a modern-day putting into images we instantly "get" (like people of Bible times "got" things about fig trees we are clueless about). It is not a theological treatise. And to those who treat everything (CS Lewis, Tolkein, L'Engle, MacDonald) as if works of fiction are theological treatises which need to be "answered"--you are not only barking up the wrong tree, you are barking up a straw man and calling it a tree! Here are the review points: You want to recreate God in your own image; (This misses the purpose of Christ's coming: Try Philippians 2: 5-10. This was not an attempt to create God in our own image! This is what i mean when i say it's not apples to apples. The point of the three "people" at the shack was specific to Mack's need in the story, not to make a theological statement. Jesus came in the image of MAN so that we could know who the Father is!) You find Isaiah's portrayal of a holy God seated upon His throne to be a disturbing image; (No one said they did!This is another "straw man" concept set up by the reviewer to make him/herself appear to me "more worshipful than you"--the same old Pharisees live. God's holiness, power and perfection are NEVER questioned in the story, excpet as Mack speaks out of his pain and self-focused lack of understanding--which is something every darn last one of us has! Even the highest-minded reviewer, with the best and most un-self-focused intentions still lacks understanding. yeah, all of us. Romans 3:10. If we want to quote Isaiah, how about, "we are all like sheep who've gone astray...and the Lord God laid on Him the iniquity of us all.." i don't have a Bible here, so i'm at a little disadvantage for looking up stuff. But that is Isaiah 50-53, i believe!)You would prefer to metaphorically cast God the Father as a loving and large black woman named "Papa," Jesus as a laid back and friendly Middle Eastern man, and the Holy Spirit as a calm and cool Asian woman; (Ah. does the reviewer have an issue with El Shaddai, "the breasted one"? here's a definition from the ole internet: "El-Shaddai means God Almighty. El points to the power of God Himself. Shaddai seems to be derived from another word meaning breast, which implies that Shaddai signifies one who nourishes, supplies, and satisfies. It is God as El who helps, but it is God as Shaddai who abundantly blesses with all manner of blessings." Again, this is a story. the way God reveals Himself is related directly to the need of the main character!!! ACK! And if Jesus is Middle Eastern, why's He in jeans? This is another one of those classic lines by that very Guy--"You strain out the gnat and swallow the camel!" After all, if you were going to portray the Trinity in ways that could make sense to 21st century humans, how would YOU portray them? As someone like the wizard in The Wizard of OZ?) You want a God so small that you and she/he/she can just hang out together as best buddies; (Another total assumption that is based on the reviewer's reading into instead of getting the point. There are numerous places in the book where God points out His power, His complete sovereignty--which includes His looking like a terrific cook if He wants to! the point is not that God is so small, but that HE IS SO BIG that He is ABLE to hang out with microscopic us! He is not off being too holy, too busy, to whatever, to know us intimately. To think LESS of Him than that is to have no faith in His character and attempt to keep Him at arm's length so that again I AND MY THEOLOGY--perfect as it is--get to have the last say, not God Himself. I've known many a guy who ranted on about the sovereignty of God but prayed as if God were not only NOT sovereign, but also disinterested in him and even a little dull witted. Faith is a scary business. so if i can keep God in a box--even a box marked "sovereignty"--i am still attempting to be my own god with MY theology as the idol of MEEMEME!!!)You regard the Bible as an extremely biased, narrow-minded, and insufficient revelation of God in leather binding with "guilt edges" (page 65); (Maybe this reviewer didn't grow up with the same people i did. Or maybe he is still one of them. But yeah, the Body is full of people who twist Scripture to make it a vehicle for fear, guilt and performance-based living, instead of perfect love that casts out fear (1 john 4), freedom from guilt (all of Romans!) and the unconditional grace of God. i know them personally. This reviewer would probably take offense at the idea that he is dissing the grace of God but, well, he's doing his best to keep the fear/guilt/performance vehicle rolling. after all, take the wheels off that one and all you've got are dead, helpless sinners who can only repent, gain forgiveness and be given a powerful, guilt-free life by a God who deals only with sinners-- not the righteous. Wasn't it that Jesus fellow who said, "I have come to call sinners, not the righteous, to repentance." Was he saying that there were folks who weren't sinners? No. He was saying that there are folks whose self-righteousness keeps them from admitting the truth that they are "dead in trespasses and sin" (Romans 5) and therefore, there's little point to offering them forgiveness...because they believe they don't need it. This is another gnat that has a camel swimming right behind it!)You therefore believe that God talks to people today, and that whatever she or he says to people trumps biblical truth (page 66);(Oh, get off it. In a novel, in which we already from the beginning, buy into Papa typing notes He puts into mailboxes--and who says HE CAN'T?!--we are in a FICTIONAL situation here. But the first objection is to the notion that God even talks to people today. YES God talks to people today! This poor reviewer must never have had any conversations with his Loving Papa who really would like to talk back! But the second part is completely off base: nowhere does the book advocate that biblical truth is trumped by some "thing God said." There are plenty of those people out there, too. But the caveat attached to this is that if you do not know Scripture, you will not have anything against which to test what you are hearing. SO it won't matte if God is talking to you or not! God gave us His Word so that we would have the owner's manual, the truth, the Mind of Christ. however, our lives are not meant to be a long siege of sitting on our overly-wise butts reading the owner's manual--He also wants us to apply and live out what we know: get out of our easy chairs, turn the key and drive the car. And He is completely able to tell us which way to turn--if we will trust Him to do so!) You believe that God is never to be feared (page 90); (God is meant to be feared first and always, in the sense of awed respect--not in the sense of being afraid. The intimate relationship He offers is not at odds with this. This reviewer is not defining terms at all, so it's hard to know what he means by "fear God." The book doesn't advocate not "fearing God" but to fear Him in the sense that He is far beyond anything i can comprehend, in the sense that i fear hurting the person i love most. But "Perfect love casts out fear" in the sense of tormenting fear.) You believe that Jesus' miracles do not affirm Him as God, but prove only "that Jesus is truly human" (page 99); Did the reviewer read the book? This isn't even worthy of a pissing contest. Yes, Jesus was truly human. Where has this guy been? Did he not read the whole section about Jesus being truly God but choosing to limit Himself?You want a God who does not hold people accountable for, nor punishes sin (page 119); The point was, there are enough natural consequences that punishment ensues! Look up the number of times in the New Testament that "judgment" is referred to. What is judgment? Is it that God is standing up there looking for ways to punish us? That was the point of the book, that this notion of God the Punisher is something which comes from selective "reading for guilt and maximum manipulation." Remember Mack's dad? Nuff said. You want a God who does not demand that you submit to him or her, but one who submits to YOU (page 145); HUH? Wow. Just read the Bible! God does not demand that i submit to Him. he just tells me what the natural consequence will be if i don't! He tells me to submit to human authority, to everyone around me (Ephesians 5)...but talking about submission when it comes to the Love of my heart...why would it even be a question? I have found Him whom my soul loves! We're not keeping score and seeing who does what to whom. This is love, not theology!You want a God who accepts everyone -- "Buddhists...Muslims, bankers and bookies" -- as his or her children no matter what their beliefs or behavior, and that Jesus has "no desire to make them Christian" (page 223); I remember so vividly answering this very question for a group of people in India, some of whom were muslim and some hindu. What i told them was that Jesus does not care whether you're muslim, hindu, buddhist...He wants you to follow Him. There will be lots of folks in heaven who might not have fully understood that they were no longer "muslim" or whatever once they followed Jesus with their whole hearts. They may not have had the information to make them into mainstream american evangelicals who listen to Christian radio. But GOD LOOKS at the heart, said old Samuel (2 Samuel 15, i believe.) He is One who knows. He is the Way, the Truth, and the Life. But He may not really care if people in other cultures don't look like evangelicals. He made the cultures in which they live. maybe God LIKES curry! Maybe He's not offended by praying with one's forehead on the ground like a muslim. Maybe He is BIG enough that He is not threatened by cultural differences. The reviewer has likely grown up here in this country but God's got a bigger plan. Remember, Jesus wasn't a Christian. Horrors! And God's family looks like the whole world, not like cultural american christianity. You believe that Jesus lied when He warned, "Broad is the road that leads to destruction" (Matthew 7:13), because in The Shack Jesus says, "Most roads don't lead anywhere." OOHHHHH. that is such a straw man! So if i like the book, this reviewer wants to charge me with calling Jesus a liar. this is so like the wonderful fundamentalist folk with whom i grew up. Amazing. Jesus said what He said in Scripture. No one has a question about that, do they? Except the Jesus Seminar folks, i think most of us can agree. Now this reviewer has taken one statement out of its context (a favorite practice of those scripture-wresters he so decries)...and is trying to tell us that we're calling Jesus a liar. Do you see the logic here? Or perhaps the nonsequiter? Jesus said "A." The book, a work of fiction, has Jesus saying, "B". A and B have no parallel, no common ground, nor do we have context for either here. However, you'd better run in fear because this reviewer says that if you read the book and didn't hate it, you are calling Jesus a liar. That is a very cheap scare tactic to throw at Christian brothers and sisters who may not know enough to recognize this kind of "guilt by association" fearmongering. Make no mistake... 90% of this book is spot on. But isn't that exactly what makes its 10% error so insidiously deadly? Look, we can allegorize many things, but we don't mess with the Trinity. This book is a Trojan horse subtly infiltrating the Christian community -- one that makes our God extremely small and completely manageable, a God who, in the final analysis, is no God at all. WOW. First of all, this is not the first time the Trinity has been allegorized. This reviewer needs to read Lewis and others. Second, if this book is a subtle infiltration, then is not OUR GOD is big enough to deal with it? He is completely sovereign. He will have the last word. He is fully able to take the worst thing and bring good out of it. That is His character and His nature. And when i recall the place in the book where Papa points out to Mack that in Jesus' complete obedience and dependence on he Father, taking the cross willingly, was the reconciliation of all things in Him.--does our reviewer not see the stunning power of that? That is not a "God who is extremely manageable." That is the God of Scripture, the God of Creation who has done all He can do to bring grace to His creation (2 corinthians 5). All i can say is, "Therefore God also has highly exalted Him and given Him the name which is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord to the glory of God the Father." this book is so NOT about messing with the Trinity that i can't even figure out where this reviewer is coming from. This is all about a God who is SO sovereign, so BIG, so FAR beyond our "vain imaginations, our misguided pieties" that we can only fall upon our knees and say, "PAPA!"

midway through another year.

how could it be june already? seriously. who stole the first five months of this year and let me think that this year would be the regular 12 months? fooled again by father time. oi. notice that it's not mother time. mother time might be a little more expansive and forgiving but no, father time marches on. he's got an agenda. always marching toward the future. can't stop. no potty breaks. hmmm....this father/mother analogy might be a little deeper than i thought.

when you were the kid in the back seat, which parent heard your plea for a potty break? or did your mother have to lobby your father to get him to stop (you know she'll wet the back seat and then you'll really be upset!)...who gave you the extra dime for a snack when you came back through the gas station? tho my dad was not a good stopper, he was the extra dime pushover. mom wanted you to feel guilty about it. you should not want those shiny wrapped bad things. you should want to wait for denny's limp lettuce and warmed over peas.

which brings us to the famous june pastime beyond weddings and graduations--vacations. Did the road trip of the past disappear with the dissolution of the family unit? How many road trips did your family do? I certainly subjected my kids to plenty, seldom with a dad of any sort in tow. They seemed to not want to go with the women and children. and i'm talking two separate men.

the best-equipped people on the planet

Many people talk about "going to church" as "being fed" (which is a misnomer, but that's the subject for another rant). However, Daniel made an interesting analogy last Sunday: going to church is, more than anything else, like buying equipment.


Imagine Fred. He says he wants to become a rock climber. Fred hangs out with rock climbers often. He reads rock climbing publications, watches rock climbing videos and TV shows. He knows some of the terms about rock climbing. He can talk about it pretty intelligently. And he's got equipment. Every week, he goes to his favorite rock climbing equipment shop. He buys rope. He buys carabiners. He has the cool shoes and the harness vest. He has the neat hammer with which to pound in those pitons he bought. Right down to the super-strength sunscreen and an ice axe, Fred has the stuff. The right stuff. The best-quality stuff. He oculd conquer Everest with this stuff.

Fred's living room is piled high with equipment. He no longer sits on the sofa; he can only see the TV by pushing aside some piles of line. In fact, he's thinking of putting his flat screen up high so that he doesn't have to move anything...

But with all of that equipment, Fred has never put on the harness. He hasn't hammered in a piton nor clipped a carabiner to a line. He did try on his cool shoes and wear them around, hoping someone would notice that he was wearing them and engage him in conversation about rock climbing...but no one did.

Fred's gone out to stand near the practice wall. He's watched other people practice climb and even grabbed a couple of handholds once or twice. He went once to the nearest rock face--one with the routes all marked and the pitons already placed--he watched for a long time, but even with his car filled with equipment (which he later replaced in his living room), he simply could not bring himself to haul it out and commit to giving climbing a try.


This is the state of the American consumer church. We are Fred.

We 'followers of Jesus' have all of the equipment. We have the best equipment--equipment with which to conquer the biggest problem, the most daunting difficulty. But rather than using what we have, we spend most of our time getting more and more equipped. God calls us to do something that requires commitment and sweat. It might call forth everything we have! And we're not sure we'd like that.

So to avoid having to commit or sweat, we just keep showing up and buying more equipment. We figure no one will notice that we aren't really doing anything. After all, we're not the only ones! And besides, we're hanging out with some really great climbers--people who will try any face, who will clamber up any rock--and they are a really good influence, right? On top of that, we watch a lot of climbers. That's our main pastime, watching other climbers. We watch them on TV, listen to them on the media circuit, read their books, watch their videos...but there we stand in our cool climbing shoes, watching them climb, excited when they make it to the top, intimidated when they lose their grip...but we aren't climbing. We'll read publication after publication, watch report after report...but climb? Nope, too safe here, too risky there.

Mother Teresa used to say "you must be the change you wish to see." (OK, maybe it was original with Ghandi. who knows.)

But while we're in India, let me loosely quote Sadhu Sundar Singh:

On the mountains, torrents flow right along, cutting channels for themselves.

In the plain, men must painfully, slowly cut channels for the lifegiving water.

So it is with the Holy Spirit of God: He will flow powerfully and make new paths if we will let Him; but most of us would rather cut those channels, slowly, inefficiently, because we are afraid to let go of our supposed control. He might flow somewhere we don't want to go.


So it is with Fred, with us. We have met the posers and they is us, as Pogo would say.

How do we grab hold and choose to move beyond the endless equipping, the continual glut of information and enlightenment that doesn't seem to motivate us to lives beyond watching American Idol and eating delivered pizza? It's so easy, so very easy, to keep thinking we are living when we are just posing. It's so easy to say, as James noted, "be warmed and filled! I'll pray for you!" while we gently close the doors to turn back to our shows.

Maybe it's just Keith Green and the Holy Spirit nagging at the back of my own "poser" consciousness:

"Open up! Open and give yourselves away!

You see the need, you hear the cry, so how can you delay?

God's calling and you're the one,

But like Jonah, you run;

He's called you to speak, but you keep holding it in.

Can't you see it's such sin?

The world is sleeping in the dark,

But the church just can't fight, cause we're asleep in the light...

How can we be so dead when we've been so well-fed (or well-equipped)?"

Yeah, i'm preaching to me, not you. Meet you at the rock face?

Sparrow's Fall



11.28.2013

It was early Thanksgiving morning when the harp sparrow hit the high window over our front door. We were sitting quietly, talking about what we were grateful for, when the THUNK of a head-on hit resounded into the quiet.
As for the sparrow, he never felt a thing; his last anticipation was that the seed on the north side of the house would soon be breakfast. One of many who have hit that window, he saw sky and open space where there was none, like so many of us.
However, being Thanksgiving, leaving him in front of the doormat, perfect, eyes open, just completely stopped in midflight, was not an option. I gently scooped the beautiful little body into a planter bowl and set it aside, not giving it another thought.
We have Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners at two in the afternoon. Except for her silverware, it’s the sole holdover from my grandmother’s tradition (and like other traditions of that kind, I have no idea whether she started it or picked it up from her grandmother). We no longer try to make turkey like hers (none of our guests seems to appreciate it) nor do we eat the same things she cooked (rarely do we have family for this holiday, and even they were not part of her tradition, so we’ve devolved to green bean casserole . . .but that’s another story entirely.)
Two o’clock came and went (no one else on the planet shares this tradition, apparently), but by three, there was a full cadre, including five children ranging from just two to almost ten.
After dinner, it was still light long enough for the kids to run in and out, around the house and through the side gate, doing that thing all kids do—chasing each other for the heck of it. Ashlynn is nine, Philana is seven, Damien is six, Pyper is five, and Audrina is two. They were all running, chasing, tromping through the dust recently sprinkled into stickiness by intermittent showers, drawing on the driveway with chalk, when Ashlynn found the sparrow’s body in the planter bowl.
I was putting something away in the garage when she came to me, aghast. “What HAPPENED?”
They gathered, shocked as only children can be at the awfulness of this death. I explained that birds often hit windows because they can’t tell it is not sky, and that this little one had never felt any pain and on and on.
“How often do they hit this window?” asked Ashlynn.
“Oh, at least one a year.” (And now I realize that it’s probably about six a year since I began throwing seed on the patio. O dear. I have created an irresistible hazard!)
Damien looked up, as serious as only a six-year-old can be. “We have to bury him.”
They set to work. With hand tools they found on the bench, they began to construct the most elaborate grave any bird could wish for, if funeral preparation ever entered their minds. They lay the little body in a shallow depression in soft soil (and managed to avoid digging up the irrigation hose). They rearranged the river stones for a perimeter, picked and lay clovers over the dirt inside the perimeter. One of them drew a picture of the bird on a paper leaf and lay it on the rocks at the foot of the grave (an unmarked grave is sadder than no grave at all!). They protected the picture with the discarded garage door handle, weighted by another river stone. At the head, they placed a small birdhouse-shaped decoration that had been part of a dilapidated pot-holder-chair built by Forrest, who passed away in August. It was a perfect headstone.
Around the perimeter, Philana scooped and scattered yet another perimeter of new gravel (just laid and not for decorative purposes!).

But then, Pyper said breathlessly, “We need to have a funeral. We need to pray!”
And she prayed for a good minute, words that reflect her own mother’s sweet heart. That child had far more words than most could muster for such an occasion, so perhaps they funerate for birds often.
“Dear God, thank You for this bird. He was a good bird. We hope he is in heaven . . . ” she prayed an extensive prayer for someone not quite seven—but she’s recently been to her great-grandfather’s funeral, so maybe she had some ammunition from that as well.

I then told them that Jesus talked specifically about sparrows: He said not a single sparrow falls without God noticing, so this one mattered to God, too.


Where did they get such extensive grave-decorating ideas? Such words for prayers? There is no doubt that this is the final resting place of a bird that was highly celebrated—at least, until some other critter digs him up.
(There was interest in that, too—Ashlynn wanted to know where the others were buried. O dear—perhaps I tossed them into the trash can . . . not a good confession for one so passionate about funerals.)

But no sparrow in history has been more honored in its death than this one. And I have no doubt that every one of these kids will be looking for him in heaven.


Sunday, November 25, 2012

Juanita Flies Away

I wrote this on the plane coming home from Idaho last Sunday night: 


My mother has been in heaven for about 12 hours. At around 6 AM this morning, I woke from an hour of deep, restful sleep and the song playing in my head was “The Sands of Time Are Sinking.”
I thought it odd but didn’t connect it with my mother’s entrance into glory. It wasn’t until around 7:45, when Bob went to check for an answer to a question from me, that he realized she was no longer breathing, but still warm.

I am stunned. I am not sad yet. I am still in take care of it mode.
But her body was picked up around noon.

 I listen to Anonymous Four sing “In the sweet By and By”
We shall sing on that beautiful shore
the melodious songs of the blest
And our spirits shall sorrow no more,
not a sigh for the blessing of rest.

This reminds me of that high, open-to-heaven weathered gray church I pictured so many times while she was in the hospital in 2006. I thought she was going to die then.  I sorrowed. I worried. We sang “Angel Band,”  over and over, wondering if this would be the time she might go…but no.

This past March 1, she had some kind of a meltdown, no one knew what exactly; again, I worried and sorrowed and tried to grab hold of the peace of Jesus. She came home, got better, but never better enough to get out of bed. She got to the first step of doing the commode on her own…for Haley, she walked a bit. She wanted to get better. At least she wanted me to believe she wanted to get better. Last Saturday night she decided to stop drinking: that would do it. But her teeth were sticking to her lips, and she wasn’t crazy about the prospect of drying up to die.

She fell last Saturday while I was gone. Always while I am gone, yes? That is the passive-aggressive pattern that says, “You were not here for me. I wasn’t sufficiently cared for.” As on March 1, when I was gone an extra day without her knowledge or permission. Not sure it was her desired to control so much as she really didn’t trust anyone on the planet except Al, Lew and me . . . I think.

She had forgotten where she was by the beginning of this week. “Where am I?” she asked, as I finished tucking her in after she’d gotten back into bed.
“You’re home.”
“Your house?”
“Yes.”
I didn't ask if she knew who I was. No point. But she didn’t have to go to a home. She was at her daughter’s home. That would have to do!

And Anonymous Four sings, “My Shepherd Will Supply My Need” which ends, “No more a stranger or a guest, but like a child at home.” Now she is fully, completely home. I could imagine Lew cocking his head to look at her and saying, “Hi there, Sis!”

I have no idea what my dad might have said. He so deeply wanted her to be something she either could not be or refused to be….again, whether it was desire for control as much as it was fear and mistrust that kept her from throwing herself into his arms and simply loving him, I will never know in this life.

Do they have group therapy in heaven? 

And of course, as always happens, the change doesn’t come until you have learned the lesson. The night before I left for this trip, she called me four or five times. She had lost the ability to figure out anything except her need. “Anxiety! Anxiety!” And I was able to take care of her without getting mad, just frustrated…we had tried Norco and it wasn’t so good. I left Jan a note that she might be better off with morphine because Norco made her nuts.

So for about a week she was non compus menus. Not a bad deal, although she had to wait a long eight months to get to that week.
And of course, that all rolled together while I was gone.
The dynamics of that are another mystery to me. But to know that Bob and Surabhi spent an hour between 2-3 AM on Saturday when she was agitated—holding her, touching her, talking to her and giving her love that she finally had to receive…she fell asleep holding Bob’s hand. From there it was just the wait for things to stop. I am guessing that the hour of agitation was her brain’s final attempt, final unraveling, final struggle to make sense of a world that often seemed to mystify her.

What shall we say then? Brittany wants her Bible, especially one that has notes, poems, etc. in it that were important to her. Hard to understand that this woman probably was functionally illiterate In some ways, possibly dyslexic? Hard to know, but she did finally say several times in the past months, “You know, I really don’t read.” Indeed. No wonder she was excited that I read and read and wrote and wrote. She wrote beautiful letters and wrote them with a lovely hand, but that was at her own pace, not with the pressure of reading a number of pages at a time. She majored in speech, probably hoping that would keep her focus on talking and eliminate the need for much reading.

Then there was the accident, when school went by the board in favor of survival. In her weakest moments, she saw Jesus standing at the end of the bed, waiting to take her home. He waited a long time for her to finally come with Him. But He is infinitely patient; it was only a moment between that day in a hospital bed with more broken bones and shards of glass in her than she could count…and yet, she survived to give birth, quite improbably, to two children at old ages. 36 and 44. Raised them.

And Anonymous Four sing, “O Come, Angel band. Come and around me stand. O bear me away on your snowy wings to my immortal home…”

This is great music to grieve to. Thank you, Lynnette and Debbie.

Friday, July 27, 2012

I see that my last post on this blog was one year ago. And twenty years ago, we were in the Eastern Sierras--Tony and Jonathan conquering Mt. Whitney while Jon was still 10, and Benn and Levi and I camping, fishing and hiking in somewhat random fashion while we waited for the other two to return from the mountain.
Today is Tony's 78th birthday, although he did not live past 65. His ability to create adventure will long be remembered by us all.