Begin Again

We toasted the New Year with the grandkid’s Star Wars glasses. Our plan was to sell our home in 2017 so the stemware is packed. Oops.

I’m using the Bible app to read through the Bible again and I’ve been joined by Jessica, which motivates me to be faithful. I am accountable to someone. I failed at faithfulness last year. In my defense, every time I wanted to write I could hear my Dad in my head. “If you don’t have something nice to say, don’t say anything.” Last year was rough. I had a lot to say, and most of it wasn’t nice, so I was generally quiet. I do apologize for those times I did write and wasn’t nice.

Reading todays section brought to mind that sometimes we hit unusual and unexpected bumps in the road. Many times, those bumps are not of our own making. We live through consequences of the actions and words of others, through things that God himself has orchestrated, and through things that are just plain random. That may not sound like I believe in the sovereignty of God, but I do.  I do firmly believe that there is nothing I will ever face or go through that cannot be redeemed, if I turn it over to God.

There are times, when I have to surrender what my precious sister calls, Getting my Irish up. 2017 was a year of desperately surrendering my Irish over and over and over again.

Each new year, I choose a verse to pray for the year.  This year is the first year, in 40 New Years with my Man, that we are doing a verse together. We have two, and a word. The word is Arise, (rise up). We are already beginning a new thing, and it is good. I pray that not only will God arise on our behalf, but that we will rise up too.

Psalm 44:26, “Rise up and help us; rescue us because of your unfailing love.”

Our goal is to be debt free by the end of the year. Our hope is to see our families in 2018. Our passion is to be fully invested in a new service to the Body of Christ. We shall see.

I wonder what sort of ride the twists and turns of 2018 will provide. It will probably cause me to scream with both delight and fear, and maybe a little frustration. I may scream to have someone let me off, and I may even puke, but I don’t ride alone. I will hang on tight when necessary, and ride I will.

Learning

There’s a new twist in my Texas Education. It’s formal now. Official. I’m an undergrad … again … at 60. As I peruse my first class syllabus I’m transported back in time, back not as far as many will think. For my first degree I took the long way round … 17 years long. Graduation day for me was right after my oldest graduated 8^th grade. I remember doing homework, at the kitchen table in our house on Selma Ave in Fremont, California. Jesse and Andrew were often studying at the same table, sharing chips and guacamole. Brain food.  Without my boys, my hubby and absolutely amazing in-laws, I wouldn’t have a degree in psychology.

Why am I starting again, now, at my age? Because I’m in Texas; because it’s a benefit of Steve’s place of employment; because God plucked us out of the Rockies and planted us in the Piney Woods.

Never, ever, did I think I’d go back to school for another bachelor’s degree, but I’m so thrilled to be an undergrad again. As my first course begins, I’m overwhelmed, scared and excited.

I’m not too old! I can do this! This is AMAZING!

My heart’s cry … Oh God! Please help me do this well!

I used to speak Mandarin. I was never as fluent as I wanted to be, but I did have a good accent. Liau Lau Shir , my teacher at Taiwan National Normal University, told me so. She tended to be graciously tough on us. She’s in the front row to the left of Steve. 

Since returning to the States in 1988, I haven’t needed Mandarin much, so I’ve lost most of my ability to understand, and my ability to speak is about on the level of a toddler. Still, it makes me smile when I hear it, and I try.

I tried this week. A call came through at work, from a gentleman who asked if anyone in the office spoke Cantonese. I’m in East Texas. The odds aren’t great. So, I asked, in my very best Mandarin, if he spoke Mandarin. He said, not so well, but a little. His was infinitely better than mine.Together we accomplished his goal. At the end of the call I turned around to see that there was an amazed group of coworkers behind me. They heard my feeble attempts to communicate with a very patient caller and they were impressed. Frankly, I was too. It’s been 30 years.

Probably the least impressed was the very kind man on the other end of the line who stuck with me and graciously thanked me.

Liau Lau Shir, thank you. My time in your classroom was a blessing in so many ways.

Living where I do, I really should take Spanish, but I’d rather find a conversational Mandarin class in town.

Texas Spring

Texas Spring

Or should I say, East Texas spring. Local folks differentiate between Texas and East Texas. I haven’t seen much outside of East Texas, so I don’t really understand the different qualities, but what I see of East Texas is truly lovely. With one exception, okay … maybe two.

For the past 21 years, bugs haven’t been a problem; another blessing of living in Colorado Springs. The occasional fly might get in the house, or maybe I’d get a mosquito bite or two during the summer, and even the spiders in the basement were nothing compared to the ones that live here in East Texas. (Forgive me Tricia). Here, amidst the beauty of my garden, there are swarms of winged pests in greater variety than I’ve experienced since coming back to the States from Taiwan. These bugs are comparable in size to the Asian varieties. That translates to generally LARGE, IMPRESSIVE critters.

Then, there are the wiggling, wriggling, slithering creatures I manage to disturb every time I attempt to sooth my soul with an afternoon of gardening. I’ve seen more snakes in the past three months than in the past 21 years. I’m not a fan.

In years past, I’ve relished the feel of rich, dark soil in my hands, now I wear gloves, and use the spade rather than delightfully digging in, getting dirt under my nails. (One reason I rarely do my nails),

Bare feet are also now covered. My toes are the same level as the average snake’s head and I’d rather not traumatize the toes any more than needed. They’ve been through enough in the past two years.

That said, I do love gardening here. It’s not yet Mother’s Day, (the traditionally safe day for beginning a garden in Colorado), and my garden is looking beautiful. There are still tweaks to be made, but blue and purple blossoms are appearing already.

Being awakened by the myriad variety of birds calling to each other, strolling through the yard, watching the branches sway with the breeze, (and leaping squirrels), listening to the soothing sounds of the waterfalls all make for a grateful heart.

All In

Our church has an odd Sunday morning schedule. You can hear the sermon early or late then, in between, there’s worship and what I call directed fellowship. This way everyone is together for part of the time, and the odds of people attending the same church for years and never knowing it, are reduced. The directed fellowship time is when we grab a cup of coffee and a snack, (or not), and ask each other the questions for the day, related to the sermon. This method of doing church was way to abstract, even for my brain, when we began. Now I love it. It works. It makes the sermon stick. It encourages relationship. It promotes depth.

Recently, during one of our directed fellowship times the questions were about being whole hearted or all in. I got together with a couple I’d met once before and we began talking about what those sayings mean to us. Our thoughts about being whole hearted were different in many ways. While all three of us recently moved to East Texas, I’m nearing 60 and a grandma, they are 20something and expecting their first baby.

When we asked each other about being all in, I was hit with one, big, head smacking revelation, to which the three of us related; Am I all in emotionally where God has placed me? Will I embrace Texas with my whole heart?

Ironically, since that revelation East Texas has felt like Colorado. It’s been cold, snowy, icy, filled with snow days, kids out of school, snow-man-front-yard-statuary, (the only kind not frowned upon by our HOA), with “delay and closure” crawls on the local channels, all things so familiar during winter for the past 21 years. When I drive down the road and see snow on the tops of cars and every area normally green, blanketed in white, I wondered I’m living in a dream. But no, this isn’t Colorado. I’m not dreaming and I have a Texas driver’s license to prove it.

I have determined to be all in mentally, emotionally and spiritually in my new home. It’s a process.

While I love the grandeur of the Rockies, the beauty that is Colorado, I also love the San Francisco Bay Area, and Bavaria, and Wales, and Hawaii, and Taiwan. Every place God has gifted me as a home has been beautiful. It’s not leaving the place that causes an ache in my heart. It’s leaving the people.

Already, I would be so sad if God were to tell us it’s time to move on from Texas. Wrapping my heart around East Texas is easier each week because the people here grow more precious to me each day.

The best part of the new heaven and new earth to come, (aside from being with Jesus of course), is that all those I love will be in the same place. I won’t have to miss one single, beautiful, kissable face.

Steve and I love this artist and this song. If you like to listen to great guitar, grab a cup of coffee and enjoy,

New – Forever

I’m easily distracted. With predictable regularity my mind goes off on a bunny trail of fascination triggered by a word, a phrase, the shoes the lady teacher’s wearing, big hair, or a bad comb over.

Sunday morning Pastor Brian talked a lot about new. When I heard him ask, “How long does it take for new to become old,” I was off down a bunny trail.

I love that question. This year I’ll be 59. It’s not scary, or sad, but it’s on my mind. In my head I’m still 30 something even though I enjoy aging. Each decade gets better. Like fine wine, I’m mellowing. Life is more and more interesting. People are increasingly precious. Life is amazing.

When viewed through normal eyes, for anything still around after 59 years, new is in the rear view mirror and antique is just down the road … unless it’s a woman (or man) who loves the Lord.

Pastor Brian got my full attention, momentarily, when I heard, “A new life begins and continues with prayer.” Say that out loud. Did you catch it? He didn’t say, “begins and ends”, but “begins and continues”.

Hmmm. More than a bunny trail now; fodder for long term meditation.

I know his mercies are new every morning. In fact, as I begin a study on new I’m newly aware of how much God is all about new.

Isaiah 40:31 is one of my favorite verses. “Yet those who wait for the Lord will gain new strength, they will mount up with wings as eagles, they will run and not become weary, they will walk and not faint.” I probably mixed my Bible versions, but it makes me think of what Pastor Brian said, “A new life begins and continues with prayer.”

Colossians 3:10 will keep me thinking for a while, “… and have put on the new self who is being renewed to a true knowledge according to the image of the One who created him ….” If you have time, look it up for context.

New is not temporary in God’s world, it’s a continuous thing. I can’t find a word to express this new. It’s more than a process, much more than a gift opened in the morning that grows old with the sunset. Like a perfectly facetted diamond it dazzles us, it’s a prism displaying a fresh rainbow with each flash of light, fascinating every time, it never grows old, the diamond ages yet it’s beauty remains new. Impossible reality. That’s me – That’s you – In prayer – In Christ – Aging – New.

Two things need to happen for me to be being renewed. First, I have to put off the old with determination. Second I must become a student of Jesus, pursuing the true knowledge. This is one pursuit when being obsessive is a virtue. The song, One Pure And Holy Passion is playing in the background as I finish. I hope like me, you’ll become obsessed with Him.

Rock-n-Roll and other Spiritual Things

I loved to sing to my kids when they were little. Some of the songs were Christian while others were old time rock-n-roll. Rock-n-roll has a history of provocation, rebellion, protest, the sexual revolution, and so much more. It could also be said, and I do, that wisdom can be found in that melodious mix.

Although I wouldn’t call the Rolling Stones music wholesome, “You can’t always get what you want” is true, so when my kiddos had a case of the “… but I want …,” I sang the Stones with gusto. In my mental time machine I’m looking in the rear view mirror to see three kids rolling their eye balls as I croon another favorite, (of mine, not so much theirs,) “Dre-e-e-am, dream, dream, dream, dre-e-eam ….”

Music is a quality of God’s character that reaches deep into our core. He created us with a need for nourishment – body, mind and soul.

Variety makes every meal better. I like rock-n-roll, classical, folk, (I loved the mockumentory, A Mighty Wind), jazz, blues, and even some country. I also like church music. Liturgy and hymns can move me to tears.

Relevance. Truth. Rhythm. What is it that grips your soul, lifts you to your feet and makes dance irresistible? Pink? The Beatles? Switchfoot? Johnny Cash?

Recently I’ve been chewing on some teachings posted on facebook by my friend Beth. Last night those words came to mind while Steve and I watched a documentary on Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers. A clip of a Biblical truth sung by someone who may or may not be Christian filled our home while Steve and I sang along.  I Won’t Back Down. That was my theme song in 2014. There were hymns, choruses and songs by Christian bands that moved me, but the one that made me shout was sung by Tom Petty. http://youtu.be/JMzW42zZVN0.

I’m a fighter. Like a pit bull, I hang on. 2014 was rough. Steve and I got hit from every side. “Hey baby, there ain’t no easy way out. Hey, I will stand my ground and I won’t back down.” Those lyrics resonate with my inner fighter.

It’s Biblical to stand strong. I stand in faith, (I Corin. 13:16.) I stand in grace, (Rom. 5:2.) I stand in the Lord, (Phil. 4:1.) Standing arm in arm with a fabulously faithful group of loved ones, (Phil. 1:27), You can stand me up at the gates of hell, But I won’t back down.

It’s 2015 and I’m singing another Tom Petty song. Pastor Brian, here’s shift#1, Runnin’ Down a Dream. http://youtu.be/Qv4-m-cIZf4. I’m workin’ on a mystery; my calling for life in Texas.

Colossians 2:2-3, “that their hearts may be encouraged, having been knit together in love, and attaining to all the wealth that comes from the full assurance of understanding, resulting in a true knowledge of God’s mystery, that is, Christ Himself, in whom are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge.

Another Lesson in My Texas Education

They build houses on a slab. No basements. I didn’t think much about that when we bought our pre-owned home. I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately.

Pre-owned means that we bought the truly lovely home with the problems that have built up through the years, AND with the problems I wasn’t there to address with the builders.

For instance, we all learned in school that heat rises, so why, in a home with cathedral ceilings, would you put the heater vents, (intended to heat the room), 8 feet and higher, up the wall? In the rooms with standard 8 foot ceilings the vents are actually in the ceiling, which leaves the upstairs quite cozy. Downstairs however, we dress in layers and occasionally sit on our hands to warm them. I refuse to wear gloves inside.

I understand that on a slab there’s no crawl space, but if the intent is to provide heat to the room, shouldn’t you place the vents in the wall at say, the same level as the electrical outlets? I’m not a builder, but that makes sense to me.

Then, there’s the question of the heater. I couldn’t find it for a while. It’s in the attic. Hmmm. I think there may be a trend here. I called the heater people to come out and see if there’s a problem, other than poorly places heating vents, with our heater. While making the appointment I was asked questions to which I had no answer. I don’t know whether it’s forced air, pulled air, pushed air, or pumped air … I just don’t know.

After wandering the house trying to find the heater, (which I just discovered have multiplied) so I could check the filters, I found the first unit in the attic. It turns out I missed two others, in the other two attic access points. The filters was not found. As I continued to try to be a responsible home owner, I finally discovered the filters, in the ceiling, no where near the heating unit. I’m so confused.

I’m beginning to miss that cold Colorado basement I used to curse, where my heater lived. I could find it easily. I could change the filter with no trouble. And there was only one. And oh, by the by, it was gas.

Today I paid $60.00 for this bit of Texas education. All to be told I have the least effective, most expensive heating system there is, and I should expect a bill to cause palpitations. To all my Baptist friends, please forgive me, but this Lutheran girl may need a single malt before opening that one. Actually, make it a double.

Farewell to the Year of The Foot – Hello to the New Song

This year could be titled The Awful, Horrible, Terrible, Wonderful Year. It began with me on pain killers and Steve wondering how long he’d be employed. Before January 2014 was over, Steve was unemployed and preparing our home for the market. I was still on pain killers.

Throughout this year I’ve asked, “Where will we be for Christmas?” Tonight, sitting in front of a crackling fire, listening to my grandson Dashiell marvel at the flames, my grand-daughter Eyvind coo and babble, and my hubby and son Jesse discuss the treasures he found meandering through Gladewater’s amazingly wonderful used book store, the answer is clear. Home. I’m completely and utterly amazed that I can say with total contentment, “I’m home.”

If anyone had told me at the beginning of the year, that East Texas would be home, my reaction would’ve been less than edifying. Life in Colorado was great. I was deeply blessed with friends, loved ones, purpose, and a great home. I saw no reason for radical change.

Psalm 98:1 “O sing to the Lord a new song, For He has done wonderful things, His right hand and His holy arm have gained the victory for Him.” I have a new song in my heart. A song of gratitude, wonder, humility and anticipation.

Our home is beyond what I ever thought possible. We are at home in our church, Lifepoint; the same heart and passion as Vanguard – AND they have Sunday School for grown-ups.

Steve’s job is another wonderful thing. He enjoys being in an academic setting doing what he does really well, and working in a team environment with people of professionalism, grace and integrity. We are home at LeTourneau.

We’ve survived a second foot surgery by a surgeon who’s not only skilled in feet fixing, he’s compassionate. Before surgery, seeing my fear and anxiety, he asked if he could pray with us, took my hand, bowed his head and covered us in prayer. I went from scared to grateful in that instant. 

I’m sure if I’d been more obedient, and not helped with the recent move, I wouldn’t have broken my already horribly abused toe, (only a hairline fracture). As it stands, the healing process is moving along amazingly well. I’m nearly there.

The friends we’ve made are precious to me. I never expected to give myself so freely to others in true friendship so quickly. It’s a direct answer to the prayers of women back in Colorado. Women I miss desperately. I’m blessed that they were willing to pray for what I needed, not what I wanted.

I wanted life to remain as it was. I wanted to stay in my beautiful home; watch my garden bloom in the spring. I wanted to be close to the women I love. I wanted Sunday dinner with our Life Group whose loving care kept us going. I couldn’t imagine no more drop in visits or crowded, noisy meals with kids, grandkids and cousins.

Psalm 98:1 “O sing to the Lord a new song, For He has done wonderful things, His right hand and His holy arm have gained the victory for Him.” God moved us from Colorado to Texas. Our oldest son and his family live here. I think we’ve seen Jesse, Casey and the kids more in the past 6 months than in the previous 16 years. Wonderful.

My verse for 2015 is Psalm 98:1 I will sing a new song. He has done marvelous things. He has gotten the victory, and so have I. We’re living in victory in East Texas. I’m excited to be part of God’s unfolding adventure right here at home, in Longview.

What verse are you praying in 2015?

Faith or Obedience

Pastor Brian spoke a bit ago about obedience and faith. I’d always thought that obedience was primary, but he challenged me, (not to my face, but during the sermon). Obedience without faith is legalism, but obedience combined with faith … well … that’s when it really gets good.

I was watching Lord Of The Rings recently, and once again I gleaned profound truth.

In one of the last scenes, (if you haven’t seen it yet … well you should have), Sam is walking into the river to catch up with Frodo, who’s paddling to the other side. Frodo yells back to him, “Go back Sam. I’m going to Mordor alone.” Sam, the river nearly waist high, says, “Of course you are; and I’m going with you.” The problem is, Sam can’t swim. As the scene’s intensity builds and I’m watching Sam sink, looking up through the water to Frodo, my thoughts became crystal clear. “That’s it. That’s walking in obedience with faith out in front. That’s when the adventure really begins.”

I know he’s fictional, but when I grow up, I wanna be like Samwise Gamgee, heading boldly into the river with faith out in front.

If you know me well, you know I’m a bit slow spiritually speaking. I’ve got a ways to go.

This week I’m thankful for God’s provision of a pastor who speaks truth with power and grace.