A New Chapter Begins

                                                                     

I sat staring out the plane's tiny window into the darkness. I'm not sure if it was the uneven rhythm of my breathing or the closed air vent above me that caused the air to be so thick. My eyes darted quickly about the plane for exit signs and the strangers seated around me. Even with my short legs I was grateful for a bulkhead seat. A tall man with perfect splashes of gray at his temples took a seat in the isle across from me. His long and lanky legs barely missed the wall in front of him. I looked down at my own legs and felt a sense of guilt; as if I had stolen a covetous seat from someone much more deserving.


As the last few passengers filed past, a young mother with a little girl stood looking for their seats. The lines of her brow didn't seem to match her age. She looked my way and I offered a halfhearted smile, trying to mask my own insecurity. As if frightened that I may look into her eyes, she looked away and continued down the long narrow isle. After a few moments the flight attendant began speaking over the intercom. I focused on her explanation of what to do in case of lowered air pressure or a crash over water. She pointed to each exit and the instructions on how to open the door in case of an emergency. Though her smile was friendly it didn't calm the stirring inside of me. I took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, I felt a bit dizzy. Glancing at the empty seats next to me I was relieved. Conversation or small talk was not on my agenda, especially so early in the morning. I needed space. Space to think, to pray, and to consider the magnitude of the journey ahead of me. I needed space to breathe. Breathe, breathe. I inhaled deeply as the plane began to ascend. And as I closed my eyes I clutched the seat tighter and began to silently pray. 

Once we reached the desired altitude and began leveling out I opened my eyes and looked toward the tall man in the next isle. He held a newspaper to his face and was studying one of the headlines. I wondered about his story? Where was he going and where was he from? He looked calm and appeared to be a frequent traveler. Business or pleasure, I wondered? Business, definitely business. The young woman next to him appeared to be asleep, but maybe she too was praying, who knows? Her long blonde hair was in a pony tail, and she donned a ISU sweat shirt, jeans and a pair of UGGs. What took her out of class so early in the semester? Even with my own attempts to focus elsewhere, an unnerving restlessness continued to hover over me. As I reached for a piece of gum and the over priced book that I had purchased before boarding a baby began crying a few rows behind me. Poor thing,  I thought to myself, his ears are probably bothering him. I hoped the book would be a welcomed distraction from the unending stream of thoughts that had plagued me for weeks.

After ten minutes I realized I had read the same 5 sentences over and over again. I had no idea what I had just read. The racing thoughts demanded my attention and soon my focus was directed onto the visit awaiting me. Something deep inside of me gave a strong impression that I was on a “Holy” trip; that somehow this was going to be more than a visit with my dying sister. My palms were damp and my fingers felt icy, reminding me of the fear I had been trying desperately to ignore since making the reservations. Not only my fear of flying but an even greater fear of knowing I would be seeing my sister for the very last time. I didn't want to make the trip. I wanted to ignore her invitation and pretend it all away. But I couldn't, I wouldn't. And while it would be our last time together, it would also our first time alone together in over ten years. Both insecurity and anxiety poured over me. How was I going to bare this, saying Hello and goodbye all in the same trip? Life had been unfair, it had robbed us of precious time, opportunities to make memories as adults, memories I would always cherish if I had been given the opportunity.



I shifted in my seat, leaning closer to the window gasping at the beauty of the sunrise. A slice of brilliant orange was scarcely peeking over an unending layer of lavender clouds. Yellow fingers of light shot up, filling the whole sky with an awareness of something or someone much greater than mankind. And as I studied the wonder of it all, I wondered how many sunrises my sister had left.

Our recent few phone conversations and Facebook chats played over and over again in my mind. Even the humming of the plane's engine could not drown out the memory of her words on that day four years prior. Six years had passed with only two or three phone calls from her, usually an attempt for money or something else she needed at the moment. That particular call caught me off guard. For years, in my own attempt to protect my heart, I expected to never hear from her again. Drugs have a way of stealing dreams, hopes and relationships. But here she was on the other end of the phone, her voice stoic and somewhat formal.



“Lori, it's Susan. How are you? Well, I'm calling because I wanted to let you know that I have Breast Cancer. . .” Her words raced on but I didn't hear a thing. With each word she spoke my legs became heavier. I listened and assured her I would be there for her as much as I could. I hung up the phone still stunned. It wasn't suppose to be this way, I thought. And yet something inside of me told me this was the providential hand of God.



It would take a diagnosis of Breast Cancer to reunite us after so many years. And as I sat alone on the plane contemplating how the conversations may go, old dormant hurt feelings were trying to resurface. Would we finally be able to clear the air? I had become proficient in glossing over the elephant in the room but could true reconciliation take place like that? Would she finally open up and let me into her world, as dark as it had been? Her world of addiction, heartache, and lies? Even with all the hurt, I still had a deep love for my older sister. Even with all her poor choices I still looked up to her, adored her. I stood at a crossroad wondering if I could ever fully express to her all my hurt while still conveying my love. Or would I once again tiptoe around it all without saying a word? Was I suppose to act as though nothing had happened? Was I suppose to skirt around all the questions of how she'd lived all these years? More importantly, I wondered if she could ever come to realize that her feelings of being a black sheep were merely lies she had told herself? Lies that directed many of her steps throughout her life. Could she come to understand how much she was truly loved, not only by me but by God? Could she see that it was time for her to stop her running, even at death's door? And if the conversation allowed for such things, could I do what was called of me and share with her all that laid upon my heart; would I have the words?



As the minutes skipped by, a new pain pulsated at the importance of our visit, this final journey to say good-bye; to share so much that had laid hidden for so long. Memories began washing over me, like a bittersweet balm. Tears stung hot and freely ran down my cheek. A lump formed deep within my throat. and I no longer cared who sat around me. I no longer worried who may see the tears, I let them run freely. I grabbed a tissue and in the next few moments as I sat watching the sun rise somehow there was a sudden awareness of God's presence with me. I was not to do this alone. This was not about me or about her, it was about Him. As clear as day, and yet inaudible, I felt him say, “Fear not, for I am with you. Fear NOT, I go before you. Your journey will not be an easy one, but I will be with you. Do not be afraid.” And in that moment I knew God was on a mission and I was privileged to be part of it. Little did I know that the journey He spoke of was not simply the few days spent with my sister, but one far longer than I could have ever imagined.




And so that was the beginning of a new chapter on my journey, one that opened secret places I didn't even know existed. . .

                                                                

Currently I am attempting to put to words this adventure in which I find myself. It seems I am on a treasure hunt with God leading the way. I don't promise to have all the answers in this life, nor to write a happily ever after fairy tale. Instead I will write about a true story, my story; one with honest struggles, fears, hopes and even in the darkest moments, faith. In the end I KNOW I will have my Happily Ever After. Yet it is on this journey, living in the here and now, that I find can be the most interesting, the moments when God reveals himself when we least expect it. Feel free to tag along with me as I share the secret places of my heart, my life and my struggles along the way. And I hope that in some small way it will bless those who have decided to come along for the ride.


~Lori

To be continued. . .

Holy Distraction

We all know how dangerous the distractions of this life can be. They seem to be EVERYWHERE these days and they can easily draw us away from keeping our eyes on the Lord and his wonderful plan for us.

Yet there are other kinds of distractions as well.  I used to (oh who am I kidding, I hate to admit it but at times I still do) get  aggravated when things distract me from my "work."  If I am not careful, I find myself becoming easily offended.  And before I  know it, the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart are anything but pleasing to the Lord. 

But I am thankful that while Jesus walked the earth the "distractions" He faced drew him to people!? Love never fails.

We are his welcomed "distraction."  His "distraction" unto  to the cross!  

The blind man, the leper, the lame, the demon possessed all slowed him from quickly reaching the place in which he was headed that day. 

The journey became the destination and the "distractions" were not only a part of the journey . . .  they were the very reason for it.

So as we go about our day

Psalm 19:14
"May the words of my (our) mouth(s) and the meditations of my (our) heart(s) be pleasing in your sight, O LORD, my (our) Rock and my(our) Redeemer." 

I'm glad the Lord wasn't easily offended or rushed, aren't you?

(Google images above)

A Whisper in the Night

                                                

                                                 

  During the last two nights  I have woken  up to find myself whispering,                                                                         “Jesus, help me.”

 I must have woke up 5 times last night doing that. Each time my lids flew open; I noticed my heart was in my stomach as if I had just ridden a roller coaster. What on earth was I dreaming?? Thankfully, even though I woke anxious, after a quiet prayer, I was able to fall back to sleep each time. 
My heart has been heavy for my brothers and sisters in Iraq who are facing great terror. And I have to believe my waking is a result of that, so I prayed for them.

    (Or perhaps my family's viewing of  "Shark Week" was a bit too much.)

                  

  This morning with a good strong cup of coffee (Thank you Folgers) a memory from long ago came to mind. 

When one of our sons was a toddler he used to experience “night terrors” in his sleep. Sometimes he would have several in one night. 

 It was the scariest thing for a young mama to witness, and according to the pediatrician it was something he would outgrow (which thankfully he did.)

     Deep in the middle of the night, I would find him crying out in his sleep. As I ran to him I found him thrashing and clawing and climbing out of his crib. One night he even ran for the back door trying to escape whatever terror he was experiencing. Each time I would scoop him up in my arms and try to soothe him, however, the doctor told me the worst thing I could do was to wake him. If I did it could frighten him even more (which honestly  I didn't think possible.) The whole time he screamed, “I want my Mama, I want my Mama!”   While I held him tight, his sweet little eyes would open and he would look straight at me, but still dreaming he could not see me.  Terror would send him into kicking and screaming fits as I held him in my arms; all the while wishing I could take away his fears and wondering what on earth he was experiencing. I found that lightly rubbing his tummy, whispering a prayer over him and singing quietly would eventually calm him back into a peaceful slumber.  It broke my heart that he did not know that I was there holding him and comforting him even as his eyes looked up at me.

     I have to wonder when we are having our own times of terror, if our Lord becomes saddened when we too call out to him over and over again and do not recognize Him holding and comforting us.  And unlike that young mama so many years ago, He does see what we are experiencing. It is He who knows exactly how to calm our greatest fears when we whisper to him,

                                                                “ Jesus, help me .”

                                                                

(All images by Google)

To Live the Life of a Treasure Hunter

You've heard it said, "Live as though today is the first and last day of your life." But how do we put it into practice? Why is it that people who are living with a terminal disease can appreciate life so much more than those of us who go through our usual day to day existence?  What reality snaps within them that allows them to appreciate the flight of a butterfly or the strength of an ant so much more than before their diagnosis? Is it because they are able to now appreciate the gift of life that they have been given; even if only for this moment?

 The butterfly has not changed its flight, nor has the ant its stride, yet simply the perception of them has become new. I long for that kind of vision, to appreciate LIFE, every bit of it. Of course I'd prefer not  to have to come face to face with death in order to do so. But if we are truly honest, we all are terminal; we only have this moment. The next moment is a mystery, and life can change in the blink of an eye.  Yes, what a gift to see the world with the awe of a child, to capture the beauty within the mundane, to give thanks for the pain, because even in the pain there is life. 


Lord, on our journey together, no matter how long or short it may be, please open my eyes. 
                                                                                I want to find it to be a beautiful view, every bit of it.

Kisses At The Stoplight

                                                                            
                                                                                

                                                                              (Google image)



      I am very grateful for good friends. The older I get the more I appreciate them. And I love to hear how the Lord is working in their lives.  Today a dear friend of mine called  from Florida to share with me about her "God Kiss."  God Kisses are those moments that I refer to when God, in his loving kindness, reminds us of his great and unconditional love for us. Often times he does it in the most extraordinary ways and other times through the simplest of things. Both she and I have experienced God Kisses in the most sweetest moments, usually when we least expect it. This time for her it was at a stop light.

     The last several months my friend, Debbie has been working several jobs, as well as going to school at night.   Her days have been long and her energy has been getting lower. And though her faith has been strong,  she has been exhausted- feeling overworked and underpaid, wondering when she will get ahead.   Her God Kiss came just in time, for the Lord is never late.  Thank you Lord for your faithfulness and encouragement to those who  choose to trust you.

     This morning with her foot on the accelerator,  she noticed the stoplight in front of her quickly change from  green to yellow and red again. Only a couple of cars were able to make the light.  She sighed, taking a deep breath and let it out slowly, wishing she has been one of them.  But as she sat, she looked up and  noticed two little birds sitting  atop  the light pole in front of her. They were small and cute, and she couldn't help but watch them as they played. 

She watched them in awe as their play turned into a dance, a poem;  a synchronized rhythm before her eyes.  A display that appeared to be just for her.  Together they moved in such a unique way she couldn't help but be mesmerized by the joy set before her. She watched as one bird would follow exactly the movement of the other. One would fly with  beautiful orchestrated movements and the next would do exactly the same. Each movement brought a smile to her heart.

As they landed once again  she saw their heads move with such grace and before her eyes they formed a heart. She whispered a prayer asking the meaning of it all.  She took another deep breath, this time out of awe. The Lord spoke to her Spirit, "Follow me, keep your eyes on me and do exactly as I do. I will give you rest and provide for your every need. Follow me and you too will fly." 

I love it when the Lord speaks to us in ways we can truly hear and understand. In my sweet friend's case the Lord gently reminded her that all that is required of her is to follow Him, to mimic Him, to dance with him and he will give her strength to fly. 

Isaiah 40:28-31

New International Version (NIV)

28 Do you not know?
    Have you not heard?                                                                                                               (Google image)
The Lord is the everlasting God,
    the Creator of the ends of the earth.
He will not grow tired or weary,
    and his understanding no one can fathom.
29 He gives strength to the weary
    and increases the power of the weak.
30 Even youths grow tired and weary,
    and young men stumble and fall;
31 but those who hope in the Lord
    will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles;
    they will run and not grow weary,
    they will walk and not be faint.

Summing it all up

                                                                                

We have all heard the song, "Amazing Grace" and many know the lyrics, "I was blind but now I see." 
Vision, perspective, and understanding can make all the difference in one's life, can't it? Recently I was "pondering" (Yes, Kristin Bridgman, I do it too) I was pondering about how we are all wired differently and how it seems that I have been wired to be "a problem solver." But when you think about it, haven't we all have been 'taught' to be problem solvers? Think back to school. Arithmetic (Math for you kids) was nothing more than problem solving, was it not? And so in some ways we've all been programmed to "solve problems."


                                                                            

                                                                         

Math frustrated me in school. I am very methodical and if I missed the foundation for solving one problem it took me into a downward tailspin for the next equation. And if I can be brutally honest, life can frustrate the bajeebies out of me from time to time. Such is the plight of the recovering perfectionist.  But you don't have to be a perfectionist to get frustrated by life's problems once in a while.

As I sat and pondered I thought about my own journey through life and how there has been a certain "problem" that has followed me through out my whole life. And in my journey I have sought out various ways to "fix" it. I've been pretty desperate at times too and done some pretty crazy things in order to cure this issue. (That's another story for another day.) Oh don't get me wrong, I've also prayed about it asking the Lord to help ME to fix the problem. Sometimes I'm even "crazy" enough to ask HIM to fix it.  Before you start telling me about having a mustard seed of faith, let me explain.

I've come to the conclusion that sometimes, the Lord will not fix or take away a problem in our lives and for a good reason. Sometimes problems simply are not meant to be solved. Imagine that. There's a novel idea. (Sorry to all my math teachers along the way. Maybe I didn't get it because I wasn't suppose too, ha!) But seriously, sometimes the purpose of the problem is not so we can solve it, but so we can learn THROUGH it. *Perhaps we only have sight when we have learned another kind of lesson. Maybe, just maybe, its not the answer to the problem that is to be sought but the purpose for the problem itself.

Gratitude is truly where we will find contentment and peace. I would even go so far as to say that we can be grateful not only in our problems (trials) but for them.

What if in those difficult moments of staring at our unrelenting unsolved problems instead  we stop and look at  them as blessings; lessons that become the trajectory in which we are meant to walk and perhaps even RUN? Whether it be a health issue or a relational issue or a financial issue, no matter what our individual problem may be maybe, just maybe, the goal should not be to "solve" it but to accept it. . . as a gift?

Perhaps having our eyes opened is truly about recognizing the beauty- even in the ugly- and be grateful, knowing that even the ugly is part of the greater (more lovely) picture for our lives. Perhaps the actual cure begins not when all is right, but when we pray, "All right and Thank you." Could that be the moment when we truly begin the journey toward the rich and amazing purpose God has for us~
The purpose that fulfills the deepest desires of our heart because He is able to use us in ways we'd otherwise never dream?

True Confessions

Those of us who call ourselves believers would never desire to be called Idol Worshipers, for there is only ONE we are called to Worship. And if we know and love that One, we LONG to worship Him. Inside each of us there is a God shaped hole and we long to have it filled. But in our world full of distractions, often times we find ourselves trying to fill those longings elsewhere. Often times we run through our busy schedule ignoring that gentle voice which is calling to us, "Come back and I will fill you and give you peace." As a "recovering" perfectionist, I find sanity comes back to me when I stop and take inventory of whom or what I have been serving lately. Often times, I find my heart has been bowed down to other things rather than my First Love, God. His heart longs to fill me up, to spend time with me, for He delights in his Children. When I bask in his presence, there is peace like no other and the longings fade away.
"I don't serve idols," you may say. And I would ask you, "What or Whom have you been serving lately?" Are you caught up in pressing deadlines, striving for just the perfect reaction from your co-workers or boss? Are you trying to create the best product/service on the market? Are you striving to have a perfect physique? Are you striving to have that dream car, dream house, dream vacation? How about finding the perfect spouse, or any spouse for that matter? Or have you been like me, striving to get that window picture perfect and missing the sun for the streaks?
It is in our striving that we can lose focus and become slaves to the thing for which we are striving. They become our master, our god. The things we find ourselves caught up in, bowing down to, we are actually serving. And so I ask you again, "What or whom are you serving today? Are you truly trying to live a life of excellence "Unto the Lord" or are you bowing to Idols, hoping somehow they will fill you?" Perfectionism is nothing more than Idol Worship. Hello, my name is Lori and I am an Idol Worshiper. Not proud, but honest. Daily I MUST surrender my agenda and my will to the Lord or I will most definitely fall prey to those idols once again. How about you, do you find yourself bowing to idols? If so, I say call out to the one, the true God and ask him to fill those longings like only He can and surrender it ALL to him and He will give you peace.
"I will have no other gods before me. You shall not make for yourselves an idol in the form of anything in heaven or on the earth beneath or in the waters below." ~ God
Exodus 20: 3 & 4