Of all I have shared, this is one of greatest importance, and I hope you will find the courage to read to the end. Is it just around me? Or are you, have you experienced heart ache as this year ends? A large part of my calling to ministry seems focused on the bereaved, having led grief recovery groups for many years now at church, having walked, this year in the loss of my dear dad and with so many others suffering a variety of loss as I start my official work as a licensed minister.
Our community lost a wonderful newscaster and community leader Loren Nancarrow to brain cancer at the age of 60. A past student of mine lost her father just before Christmas, Ed Herrmann, 67 years young. Stephen, a young man suffering from a lifelong genetic disease, resident of a wonderful hospital where I volunteer, transitioned two weeks ago; these just a few of the many who continued off planet as the holiday season, my Christmas season, flew by. My mom's presence and the first Christmas without my dad sealed my Christmas, and yes, there were times I shed some tears, not just for me, but for others facing loss, the absence of dear loved ones this time of year.
In my opening volley I spoke of hope, hope that you would have courage to read to the end of this simpleton's blog. And it does take courage to face the apparent lion crouched at the end of our lives. Courage rises in a heart that faces fear and challenge. Hollow courage walks or runs up to the challenge standing like a feather in a hurricane...unless somewhere there is one who can hold the feather or protect it against the fierceness of the storm.
Most seem to know the story of David and Goliath, a little man against a taunting giant. No one on the Israelite side wanted to take Goliath on. But then a shepherd not a warrior with a skill hurls a stone from a sling toward an overconfident ogre and he falls...dead. The threatening hurricane of challenge falls before an unexpected warrior, his training and skill placed in the trust and leading of his almighty God.
It is my hope and prayer that we discover the hope and courage our lives can possess as we realize there clearly is something amazing, someone amazing we can experience as we face daily challenge. Every now and then there will also arise large, ugly ogres attempting to cease us, filling us with fear. I am no David, or am I? Who are you? How do you face your greatest storms?
There is plenty of religious 'baggage' that surrounds us. As I examine scripture, specifically the Bible, the historical accounts speak clearly of what life looks like when we follow God, and most importantly I find comfort in the myriad failures of those whose lives are exposed there. Failures? YES! Have you really read the Bible? Moses, Joseph, David and hosts of others stumble as they walk lives of faith. Don't let others tell you what is in the Bible, read it for yourself! And can I also request that you take off your spectacles of doubt just like you do when you watch reality shows?
As these footprints of faith walk through the brevity of what will be my life, I stand as a man with hope and courage; not self imposed, hollow hope and courage, God given hope and courage. You see, if you choose to read the Bible, examine the timeline and connectedness of the many seasons and celebrations God unfolds through thousands of years, I believe you will come to the same discovery of which this blog speaks. God is real. God is not just giving us a set of rules to follow, He is showing a way to live that will transform the lives of real people, including ourselves. The timeline has not stopped; for us yet.
We can find hope. We can find courage. Real hope and real courage. We can face leviathans, ogres, cancer and death with completely unworldly eyesight. We can have lives that rock our world, small as our part may seem, it could have immense eternal value in the lives of some, opening the gates of heaven for them to share with us. We can see our lives as small, relatively insignificant years, or have them transformed by God into something astoundingly meaningful, much more meaningful than just being a good person.
Once born, we are created as eternal beings. Our eternal existence is fact made clear by our Creator. But beyond just eternity our lives can move from this world of joy mixed with pain and suffering into one of glory (God's) and peace (also God's), absent of angst. Beyond just eternity is God whose offer stands for those who choose to accept His leading. Again, I ask you to unload the baggage you associate with God. Take of the spectacles of skepticism and see where He leads you.
Real believers and followers of Jesus Christ hope that you will discover what we have, peace that transcends understanding, with courage enabled rise as we learn to trust our God. To eternity and beyond, He being beyond eternity, the reason we can live with Him there.
Monday, December 30, 2013
Saturday, December 28, 2013
Meaningful Grace Lavished Upon Lives
Easier is the job of writing when something extraordinary occurs in life, the ordinary extraordinary has been springboard for musings. Christmas has finally finished, extended, for me, in the receipt of my final gift yesterday, December 27th. According to my bride, her online purchase was supposed to arrive before, but she, like so many others were informed, by some shipping 'bot that an unforeseen delay was discovered...the day before. Our church secretary had ordered the one singular gift her daughter requested nearly a month before Christmas only to find out her gift would not make it on time either, her eight year old to discover that Santa isn't real.
Some say that timing is everything. And it is. There is man's timing, our expectations and God's timing. It is God's timing that is everything. Just when I think I have everything lined up, ready to go, under control, a kink in my plans shows up. Some call it a monkey wrench, others call it #@*^*%$! Until I learned to let go of my expectations, and the expectations of others, I used to get not only kinked, but severely bent whenever expectations were not met. I believe it was the disappointment in myself or the disappointment that others experienced because of me that fueled the fire of anger within me. While I will step up to my part of the catastrophe, there are two things I need to understand.
1. If there is anything I can do next time to assure correct timing, adjust accordingly.
Learn from mistakes. I am a people pleaser and used to be so much more so before. Initially I did so because I wanted others to like me. But as I age, pray and engage God in the mix, I have learned to turn my being liked into something different; pleasing people as a way of honoring them. Stemming from a passage in the Bible, Paul telling us not to think more highly of ourselves than others, esteeming them more highly than myself, this gives rise to a better understanding of people pleasing. A different goal, one steeped in humility. If I was self consumed in my own world, my insensitivity to others influencing the poor timing or disappointing moment, I need to learn to refocus.
2. Sometimes disappointment found in others is a means to helping them learn the grace of forgiveness we can offer as servants of the King.
What is done is done. We can't change it. We can't start over again. We can't step out of time to fix it. So why to we heap our frustrations out on others? Something amazing happens when I make a huge mistake and the other person, rightly and appropriately disenchanted pours grace upon my dizzy head. Real grace, not the fake, "it's okay" kind. It is real grace I want to pour on the head of those who disappoint me. Some of my amazing moments rise from the deep and meaningful grace lavished on me rising out of my failures to properly love and appreciate someone I love. This grace can move mountains!
So, yesterday I waited to open my brown boxed gift until my Carrie arrived home from work, only to discover another brown box inside with another box (the espresso maker box) inside that. Two days 'lat(t)e' I set it up and prepped it for this morning's brew, with great anticipation. It delivered! This morning I made the first of many mochas and cappuccinos that will add to future days, blessed provision and shopping from the love of my life, Carrie. Timing is everything. Because of the delay, I had Christmas extend days beyond what most expect, along with a surprise satisfaction this December 28th. As 2013 ends and 2014 soon enters, it is my hope and prayer that God allows me to lavish grace upon lives of others whose timing and other faux pas hit me square in the face. Wouldn't it be nice if we all find abundant grace to do the same next year? I know I will fail others and others will fail me. God's timing is everything. I want to rest in Him.
Some say that timing is everything. And it is. There is man's timing, our expectations and God's timing. It is God's timing that is everything. Just when I think I have everything lined up, ready to go, under control, a kink in my plans shows up. Some call it a monkey wrench, others call it #@*^*%$! Until I learned to let go of my expectations, and the expectations of others, I used to get not only kinked, but severely bent whenever expectations were not met. I believe it was the disappointment in myself or the disappointment that others experienced because of me that fueled the fire of anger within me. While I will step up to my part of the catastrophe, there are two things I need to understand.
1. If there is anything I can do next time to assure correct timing, adjust accordingly.
Learn from mistakes. I am a people pleaser and used to be so much more so before. Initially I did so because I wanted others to like me. But as I age, pray and engage God in the mix, I have learned to turn my being liked into something different; pleasing people as a way of honoring them. Stemming from a passage in the Bible, Paul telling us not to think more highly of ourselves than others, esteeming them more highly than myself, this gives rise to a better understanding of people pleasing. A different goal, one steeped in humility. If I was self consumed in my own world, my insensitivity to others influencing the poor timing or disappointing moment, I need to learn to refocus.
2. Sometimes disappointment found in others is a means to helping them learn the grace of forgiveness we can offer as servants of the King.
What is done is done. We can't change it. We can't start over again. We can't step out of time to fix it. So why to we heap our frustrations out on others? Something amazing happens when I make a huge mistake and the other person, rightly and appropriately disenchanted pours grace upon my dizzy head. Real grace, not the fake, "it's okay" kind. It is real grace I want to pour on the head of those who disappoint me. Some of my amazing moments rise from the deep and meaningful grace lavished on me rising out of my failures to properly love and appreciate someone I love. This grace can move mountains!
So, yesterday I waited to open my brown boxed gift until my Carrie arrived home from work, only to discover another brown box inside with another box (the espresso maker box) inside that. Two days 'lat(t)e' I set it up and prepped it for this morning's brew, with great anticipation. It delivered! This morning I made the first of many mochas and cappuccinos that will add to future days, blessed provision and shopping from the love of my life, Carrie. Timing is everything. Because of the delay, I had Christmas extend days beyond what most expect, along with a surprise satisfaction this December 28th. As 2013 ends and 2014 soon enters, it is my hope and prayer that God allows me to lavish grace upon lives of others whose timing and other faux pas hit me square in the face. Wouldn't it be nice if we all find abundant grace to do the same next year? I know I will fail others and others will fail me. God's timing is everything. I want to rest in Him.
Tuesday, December 24, 2013
The Treats of Tradition
Even great marriages (ones filled with good? communication) can have new revelations and surprises. After thirty wonderful years of marriage, this year, in a Facebook 'confession', I learned that my life partner is a theif! I'm not sure when it started (typical male), but at some time in our marriage, rather than getting tasty morsels, boxed like they were competing in an egg drop contest (annual gift from my mother-in-law) they also started emanating from our oven. For some odd decades, I thought she asked her mom for the recipe and started making them herself, and that is why the packages ceased. But no!
Every Christmas we have had Nut Cups...and now I am going to be the thief (she can sue me if she wants...isn't that like her forging my signature on backs of checks?...I certainly wouldn't press charges). So, since she claims she has no time to blog, I am going to post it here as evidence of my sweet accusation. Let the trial begin!
"Some recipes have names that take you back to a feel good place, like Toll House cookies. In reality they are just (just?) chocolate chip cookies, but they take you back to a warm New England inn when you say Toll House cookies. My mom liked more simple names that described just what you were getting. This principle was applied to one of my favorite Christmas traditions. No “Mini Nut Tarts” or “Pecan Tassies for her; “Nut Cups” was the name she preferred for this treat. Even though the name is simple, it still takes me back to a feel good place.
When I was in college I would receive a package about a week after Thanksgiving (I did not go home for Thanksgiving since I went to school in southern California and it was too costly to fly home for a few days). I would think, “Oooo! I hope that it’s Nut Cups!” as I carried the package carefully to my dorm. I am not sure why I needed to carry them carefully as they had just been handled by the US Postal Service over 2500 miles. Not to mention that mom always wrapped them individually and placed them in foam peanuts to ensure safe delivery. (She would win the egg drop contest hands down.) As I carefully removed the tape from the box I was dreaming of the crispy crust and pecan or walnut filling. Mmmmm! I was never disappointed.
Even after I was married, Mom would still send them to my family at about the same time one week after Thanksgiving; wrapped the same way. This went on for years. Finally Mom let me have the recipe! Now that I think about it, I don’t think she actually ever gave it to me. I was browsing her Joy of Cooking book when I went to visit one summer and I found the recipe written on the inside cover. I am sure that she wanted me to copy it so that the recipe could be passed down. Right? Obviously she did not know that I had it because she continued to send them to us until she couldn’t get out to the post office anymore.
The secret is going to be out this week. As I was writing this I thought that MAYBE my mom would like to receive some Nut Cups in the mail! So today I took the precious package to the post office to mail the carefully wrapped little treats. I hope that she will be brought back to the feel good place, as I was, when she sent them to me."
So, there you have it. I never thought I'd ever hear that my lovely bride is a thief! And even more surprising is my response. If you would have produced evidence proving my sweet Carrie's crooked ways, my heart should have shattered like a Ming vase crashing onto a porcelain floor. Instead, it rises as the sweetest testimony to another great lady I love and cherish, Marion Owens, and yes, she is my precious mother-in-law.
Every year we get and give gifts. This year, I am overwhelmed by the most precious gifts of all, the ones costing so little, finding direct connection to our hearts (and stomachs!!!), and 'the rest of the story' behind them. Our kitchen has been blessed. Blessed to have a wonderful baker, my girl, shuffling around the appliances (my investment in her ability to produce with great ease) her sweet love, just as her mom and friend did. As the years increase "the feel good place" my sweet baker speaks of becomes sweeter and sweeter, more valuable and precious than any other gift I could hold. For not only do I get to hold and eat the treats of tradition. I get to hold the baker as well. I get to look into her eyes and hug her, the act dusting me with flour and residue adhering to her apron springing from all her various tools and contraptions. As I do, and consume, I receive doses of love from all the kitchens that enter ours. Rising thankfulness blooms in my heart. Blessed to enjoy sweet, wonderful treats of tradition.
Every Christmas we have had Nut Cups...and now I am going to be the thief (she can sue me if she wants...isn't that like her forging my signature on backs of checks?...I certainly wouldn't press charges). So, since she claims she has no time to blog, I am going to post it here as evidence of my sweet accusation. Let the trial begin!
"Some recipes have names that take you back to a feel good place, like Toll House cookies. In reality they are just (just?) chocolate chip cookies, but they take you back to a warm New England inn when you say Toll House cookies. My mom liked more simple names that described just what you were getting. This principle was applied to one of my favorite Christmas traditions. No “Mini Nut Tarts” or “Pecan Tassies for her; “Nut Cups” was the name she preferred for this treat. Even though the name is simple, it still takes me back to a feel good place.
When I was in college I would receive a package about a week after Thanksgiving (I did not go home for Thanksgiving since I went to school in southern California and it was too costly to fly home for a few days). I would think, “Oooo! I hope that it’s Nut Cups!” as I carried the package carefully to my dorm. I am not sure why I needed to carry them carefully as they had just been handled by the US Postal Service over 2500 miles. Not to mention that mom always wrapped them individually and placed them in foam peanuts to ensure safe delivery. (She would win the egg drop contest hands down.) As I carefully removed the tape from the box I was dreaming of the crispy crust and pecan or walnut filling. Mmmmm! I was never disappointed.
Even after I was married, Mom would still send them to my family at about the same time one week after Thanksgiving; wrapped the same way. This went on for years. Finally Mom let me have the recipe! Now that I think about it, I don’t think she actually ever gave it to me. I was browsing her Joy of Cooking book when I went to visit one summer and I found the recipe written on the inside cover. I am sure that she wanted me to copy it so that the recipe could be passed down. Right? Obviously she did not know that I had it because she continued to send them to us until she couldn’t get out to the post office anymore.
The secret is going to be out this week. As I was writing this I thought that MAYBE my mom would like to receive some Nut Cups in the mail! So today I took the precious package to the post office to mail the carefully wrapped little treats. I hope that she will be brought back to the feel good place, as I was, when she sent them to me."
So, there you have it. I never thought I'd ever hear that my lovely bride is a thief! And even more surprising is my response. If you would have produced evidence proving my sweet Carrie's crooked ways, my heart should have shattered like a Ming vase crashing onto a porcelain floor. Instead, it rises as the sweetest testimony to another great lady I love and cherish, Marion Owens, and yes, she is my precious mother-in-law.
Every year we get and give gifts. This year, I am overwhelmed by the most precious gifts of all, the ones costing so little, finding direct connection to our hearts (and stomachs!!!), and 'the rest of the story' behind them. Our kitchen has been blessed. Blessed to have a wonderful baker, my girl, shuffling around the appliances (my investment in her ability to produce with great ease) her sweet love, just as her mom and friend did. As the years increase "the feel good place" my sweet baker speaks of becomes sweeter and sweeter, more valuable and precious than any other gift I could hold. For not only do I get to hold and eat the treats of tradition. I get to hold the baker as well. I get to look into her eyes and hug her, the act dusting me with flour and residue adhering to her apron springing from all her various tools and contraptions. As I do, and consume, I receive doses of love from all the kitchens that enter ours. Rising thankfulness blooms in my heart. Blessed to enjoy sweet, wonderful treats of tradition.
Sunday, December 22, 2013
Ed's Legacy Lives On
People of integrity and honor touch and inspire my heart and soul. Ed Herrmann was such a man. Blessed to teach his then middle school daughter Nicole, having been invited into their home, seeing them move through their days, I knew they were and are the real deal; Faithful followers of Jesus, doing as He leads. Blessed also to watch and join the prayers of thousands through Nicole and Barbara's friending and their frequent, poignant, posts, they inspired me as I took on my share of caring for my ailing father. The wonderful maturity and honor she poured into her father's life stands as clear testimony of her glowing faith honoring not only her dad, but God Himself, His glory fully evident for all to see.
+++++++++++++++++++++
I posted this and the following on my Facebook page today, saddened to hear about the loss of this great man. As a teacher, most of my career in middle school, I have had the honor and privilege of teaching many wonderful young souls. My favorite years of teaching were in private, Christian schools. It was there where I could walk the halls and stand in my classroom unencumbered, my faith, my love for the Lord hopefully real and shared in such genuine way that students felt as if they were loved by God as He let me love them. Far from perfectly righteous and still in a state of progression toward holiness, God allowed me to connect with many of the students, many Facebook friends to this day.
Nicole was and is an amazing young lady, and I mean lady. Her mom, Barbara, wife of Ed is too. When I think of humble yet powerful lives, theirs are at the top. And they would be embarrassed to read such a statement. Sure, Ed was a baseball player. Really. A successful catcher for the Chicago White Sox back in the day. But he didn't talk much about it. What he loved talking about is Barb and their girl and they are both great gals! In many ways he reminded me of my dad, always celebrating the good never really complaining or talking down about anyone. The world needs more of these kinds of men, but sadly my dad and Ed are now gone.
++++++++++++++++++++++
Today, Ed left the planet freed from the ravages of the cancer that ate away at his body, but never his spirit. A man of integrity to the end, his precious daughter clear evidence of the excellent care and loving upbringing she was blessed to receive, my heart grieves hearing the news of his passing.
Should you be a fellow warrior of prayer, I ask you to say one or many for Barb and Nicole as they move through this season and the year ahead. I know they have prayed for we who taught Nicole, it is time for me to continue returning the honor and privilege. May the God of great comfort hold them as they hold one another this Christmas. Eds legacy lives on, not just here through the lives he touched, but in heaven where we believers soon will join he and Jesus for eternity.
Thank you Herrmanns, Ed, Barbara and Nicole for being the real deal, with great, Godly integrity. Thank you Nicole, for inspiring me to be there for my dad. You, are an amazing young lady. Amazing.
I have always said that I will learn from anyone. How wonderful it is to learn from a wonderful student and beautiful, precious daughter of our Lord. May He bring you, Barbara and Nicole, His comfort as you walk through your days and decades ahead. For this I pray, holding you up before Him to care for you.
+++++++++++++++++++++
I posted this and the following on my Facebook page today, saddened to hear about the loss of this great man. As a teacher, most of my career in middle school, I have had the honor and privilege of teaching many wonderful young souls. My favorite years of teaching were in private, Christian schools. It was there where I could walk the halls and stand in my classroom unencumbered, my faith, my love for the Lord hopefully real and shared in such genuine way that students felt as if they were loved by God as He let me love them. Far from perfectly righteous and still in a state of progression toward holiness, God allowed me to connect with many of the students, many Facebook friends to this day.
Nicole was and is an amazing young lady, and I mean lady. Her mom, Barbara, wife of Ed is too. When I think of humble yet powerful lives, theirs are at the top. And they would be embarrassed to read such a statement. Sure, Ed was a baseball player. Really. A successful catcher for the Chicago White Sox back in the day. But he didn't talk much about it. What he loved talking about is Barb and their girl and they are both great gals! In many ways he reminded me of my dad, always celebrating the good never really complaining or talking down about anyone. The world needs more of these kinds of men, but sadly my dad and Ed are now gone.
++++++++++++++++++++++
Today, Ed left the planet freed from the ravages of the cancer that ate away at his body, but never his spirit. A man of integrity to the end, his precious daughter clear evidence of the excellent care and loving upbringing she was blessed to receive, my heart grieves hearing the news of his passing.
Should you be a fellow warrior of prayer, I ask you to say one or many for Barb and Nicole as they move through this season and the year ahead. I know they have prayed for we who taught Nicole, it is time for me to continue returning the honor and privilege. May the God of great comfort hold them as they hold one another this Christmas. Eds legacy lives on, not just here through the lives he touched, but in heaven where we believers soon will join he and Jesus for eternity.
Thank you Herrmanns, Ed, Barbara and Nicole for being the real deal, with great, Godly integrity. Thank you Nicole, for inspiring me to be there for my dad. You, are an amazing young lady. Amazing.
I have always said that I will learn from anyone. How wonderful it is to learn from a wonderful student and beautiful, precious daughter of our Lord. May He bring you, Barbara and Nicole, His comfort as you walk through your days and decades ahead. For this I pray, holding you up before Him to care for you.
Saturday, December 21, 2013
Let Those We Love Know We Know Them
Every year stores and parking lots overflow with people moving about, hunting for 'that perfect gift'. For some, it is about finding a bargain appearing to cost far less than usual, for others money seems no object, and for all it is about letting someone know how special another is to us and how much we care and love them, letting those we love know we know them..while businesses lure us to spend and purchase in their havens of 'stuff' on line or in store.
Don't get me wrong, I love stuff! But isn't it just nice when someone knows what your favorite cookie or dessert is and personally takes time to bake it for you? I'm not sure if Beverly (a customer service rep I worked with at Lowe's) misses me or Carrie's Merry Cherry bars I brought to share there more at this time of year! (She tells me she misses me, but always refers to Carrie's bars and goodies I regularly brought in...hmmmm).
The best gifts come from someone discovering something we use and enjoy with great regularity, giving me some 'on them'. It could be a bag of one of my favorite coffees (whole bean) or one of their favorites to remind me of them (I like coffee). It might be a bottle of relatively inexpensive red wine (the only kind I drink) that they find I enjoy, or they like offering for me to enjoy, serving as remembrance of who blessed me with it. It could be that perfect shirt, the kinds I will wear because they know my taste (all cotton with fairly bright colors, the best ones with matching/aligning pattern along the buttons and pocket(s)). But also, if we think back, the best and most memorable gifts were ones that surprised us, because they knew us, giving us something we never would have asked for but opened up hours of wonder and fun!
Gift giving, to me isn't about how much it costs. In fact it is more challenging and fun to find the perfect gift that doesn't cost much but lets the other person know you know them, without asking what they want, just noticing what they could use and who they are, adding a touch of yourself because you picked out something they would actually use or wear.
I find great joy when I purchase a top for my wife, seeing her wear it with great frequency because she looks good in it and likes it. When I finally tracked down a tea that is one she really likes, I buy it for her. But it took time and willingness to work on the discovery. At first, in our early years, I would buy her clothes and she'd return a lot of it. Partially because they didn't fit, but mostly because I missed some mark in style or color. But I continued and honed in my understanding of her taste and colors.
When shopping with her, I hear things like, doesn't this look like "?" (one of our kids or friends). She is a great shopper. She knows those she is gifting...and I have learned much from her.
This next year, I am on a mission. I call it 'mission observation'. The point? To find out and discover what people, the people/family in my life, enjoy with regularity; what they wear (sizes and styles), where they like to eat, go and do. I am thankful and blessed with so many amazing, wonderful friends and family members! If we all take just a little more time in the observations, the quests, the understanding of each one on our giving list, maybe next year we can each 'nail' the perfect gift...and it won't break the bank, but will let those we love know we know them. I could always use another bag of whole bean "Roast & Toast" Toasted Almond coffee (I always make the drive whenever I am visiting my mother-in-law), or "Lion" Chocolate Macadamia (having just purchased a few bags on my most recent trip there) and you can order it online. I wonder what simple pleasures you might enjoy?
Don't get me wrong, I love stuff! But isn't it just nice when someone knows what your favorite cookie or dessert is and personally takes time to bake it for you? I'm not sure if Beverly (a customer service rep I worked with at Lowe's) misses me or Carrie's Merry Cherry bars I brought to share there more at this time of year! (She tells me she misses me, but always refers to Carrie's bars and goodies I regularly brought in...hmmmm).
The best gifts come from someone discovering something we use and enjoy with great regularity, giving me some 'on them'. It could be a bag of one of my favorite coffees (whole bean) or one of their favorites to remind me of them (I like coffee). It might be a bottle of relatively inexpensive red wine (the only kind I drink) that they find I enjoy, or they like offering for me to enjoy, serving as remembrance of who blessed me with it. It could be that perfect shirt, the kinds I will wear because they know my taste (all cotton with fairly bright colors, the best ones with matching/aligning pattern along the buttons and pocket(s)). But also, if we think back, the best and most memorable gifts were ones that surprised us, because they knew us, giving us something we never would have asked for but opened up hours of wonder and fun!
Gift giving, to me isn't about how much it costs. In fact it is more challenging and fun to find the perfect gift that doesn't cost much but lets the other person know you know them, without asking what they want, just noticing what they could use and who they are, adding a touch of yourself because you picked out something they would actually use or wear.
I find great joy when I purchase a top for my wife, seeing her wear it with great frequency because she looks good in it and likes it. When I finally tracked down a tea that is one she really likes, I buy it for her. But it took time and willingness to work on the discovery. At first, in our early years, I would buy her clothes and she'd return a lot of it. Partially because they didn't fit, but mostly because I missed some mark in style or color. But I continued and honed in my understanding of her taste and colors.
When shopping with her, I hear things like, doesn't this look like "?" (one of our kids or friends). She is a great shopper. She knows those she is gifting...and I have learned much from her.
This next year, I am on a mission. I call it 'mission observation'. The point? To find out and discover what people, the people/family in my life, enjoy with regularity; what they wear (sizes and styles), where they like to eat, go and do. I am thankful and blessed with so many amazing, wonderful friends and family members! If we all take just a little more time in the observations, the quests, the understanding of each one on our giving list, maybe next year we can each 'nail' the perfect gift...and it won't break the bank, but will let those we love know we know them. I could always use another bag of whole bean "Roast & Toast" Toasted Almond coffee (I always make the drive whenever I am visiting my mother-in-law), or "Lion" Chocolate Macadamia (having just purchased a few bags on my most recent trip there) and you can order it online. I wonder what simple pleasures you might enjoy?
Saturday, December 14, 2013
The Incredible Gift
With exceeding thankfulness and great appreciation from a friend in the recording business, I had my first privilege to enter a professional studio, his, to make a first real recording of a Christmas song I wrote in 2010. Scott is a a friend I grew up with whose heart and engineering talent made me sound nearly professional. In a scant two and a half hours, tracks were laid down and he completely engineered my offering. It was amazing!
I have been writing songs for decades. Pouring my faith and heart into my guitars and horns, this simple guy interacts with the King of Kings and Lord of Lords hoping to create something that might help the world understand why faith is key principle best applied to life. Faith is not something I can muster. It is the gift of God to those choosing to seek Him, given to we His children This blog, another similar effort, is the prose appointment to this task placed at the feet of my Father. My lyrics are the 'poetic' version of such.
I have no dreams of fame. No expectations that this exposure of heart might resonate with others. I am satisfied that this blog and my music can remain as my outpouring between He and I. I share occasionally with those who may be forced (in church on occasion) to listen, or you, choosing to read and potentially listen, to my musings; blog and music. And I am thankful that any might read or appreciate the gift (?) which God seems stirring in me.
For my few faithful readers, I am offering an opportunity to listen to the studio magic performed by my friend, Scott Higby, as he captured and massaged my tracks. The link will be briefly active..only 13 more days, unless I choose to make monthly installments as part of subscription to the site, potentially determined by interest of any choosing to want my continuance to record other songs written.
For now, again I find myself sitting here amazed. Not by my talent, but the talent of another, for I have many personal recordings of my work, none I felt like sharing with any other than my wife. But this Christmas, this season, I have been given a precious gift from a most precious friend, Scott. I would like to continue this process of recording, but would also like to ensure my friend get his share for the use of his studio and talent. As he and I talked, he shared that I need to find someone who might produce me, and that just doesn't seem where I want to go, but then it hit me. What if my friends decide my music worthy of production?
So, now, as I pray, I find myself not soliciting myself, but wondering if God might choose to bless my meager offerings before Him. Might He desire the blessing my friend whose talents are clearly demonstrated here, to capture the best of many decades of musical offerings? Might I be given opportunity to create a CD or web album of sorts?
With little expectation, these footprints of faith walk through the days. For now, extremely thankful for the minuscule gift of music and writing I have been blessed to offer, maximized by the incredible gift of my friend, Scott. Let me know what you think...if anything. I wish you the receive the greatest of gifts this season if you not own it yet. It cost you nothing to purchase, but cost Him to give up His glorious home, choosing to enter ours which He created, to be both cherished and abused by the very people He breathed life into. The gift of Jesus Christ. Merry CHRISTmas!
Click on the song link to download the song --->The Peace of Salvation. God bless you!
I have been writing songs for decades. Pouring my faith and heart into my guitars and horns, this simple guy interacts with the King of Kings and Lord of Lords hoping to create something that might help the world understand why faith is key principle best applied to life. Faith is not something I can muster. It is the gift of God to those choosing to seek Him, given to we His children This blog, another similar effort, is the prose appointment to this task placed at the feet of my Father. My lyrics are the 'poetic' version of such.
I have no dreams of fame. No expectations that this exposure of heart might resonate with others. I am satisfied that this blog and my music can remain as my outpouring between He and I. I share occasionally with those who may be forced (in church on occasion) to listen, or you, choosing to read and potentially listen, to my musings; blog and music. And I am thankful that any might read or appreciate the gift (?) which God seems stirring in me.
For my few faithful readers, I am offering an opportunity to listen to the studio magic performed by my friend, Scott Higby, as he captured and massaged my tracks. The link will be briefly active..only 13 more days, unless I choose to make monthly installments as part of subscription to the site, potentially determined by interest of any choosing to want my continuance to record other songs written.
For now, again I find myself sitting here amazed. Not by my talent, but the talent of another, for I have many personal recordings of my work, none I felt like sharing with any other than my wife. But this Christmas, this season, I have been given a precious gift from a most precious friend, Scott. I would like to continue this process of recording, but would also like to ensure my friend get his share for the use of his studio and talent. As he and I talked, he shared that I need to find someone who might produce me, and that just doesn't seem where I want to go, but then it hit me. What if my friends decide my music worthy of production?
So, now, as I pray, I find myself not soliciting myself, but wondering if God might choose to bless my meager offerings before Him. Might He desire the blessing my friend whose talents are clearly demonstrated here, to capture the best of many decades of musical offerings? Might I be given opportunity to create a CD or web album of sorts?
With little expectation, these footprints of faith walk through the days. For now, extremely thankful for the minuscule gift of music and writing I have been blessed to offer, maximized by the incredible gift of my friend, Scott. Let me know what you think...if anything. I wish you the receive the greatest of gifts this season if you not own it yet. It cost you nothing to purchase, but cost Him to give up His glorious home, choosing to enter ours which He created, to be both cherished and abused by the very people He breathed life into. The gift of Jesus Christ. Merry CHRISTmas!
Click on the song link to download the song --->The Peace of Salvation. God bless you!
Thursday, December 12, 2013
A Priceless Necklace
Something beautiful can emerge in a life as we move through our years and potential decades upon this planet we call earth. More precious that the finest cut diamonds, more valuable than fame and fortune. It squashes the valor of youth, haughty, worldly eyes of beauty and perfection, transforming deeper, more elegant features than anything the media itself can muster. The antithesis of singular talent or ability to rise above another to be admired by masses, absent of vanity and vulgarity this precious, vital, powerful emergence quietly transforms our world, keeping it safe and honorable. Maturity is all this, and more.
When I was teaching in schools, I would often share with my students that we would think it rediculous if a middle school student (or whatever grade I found myself teaching) decided that they knew enough as a kindergartener having never grown beyond that phase in life. If we stop anywhere believing we have learned enough to get us through life, that would be a pathetic moment in any life. Doesn't this make sense? The maturing process is essential, dynamic and most precious commodity we gain as we press through our days and decades upon the face of the earth. Now, if only we could keep our physique and prime beauty of our best days in our youth. But better fleeting youth than persistent immaturity.
This blog emerges out of a time, two nights ago when we cousins, sitting around my aging auntie Nancy and uncle Yasu's dining room table, set the date starting plans for next year's family reunion in Hawaii. In a picture taken by my brother of us all sitting together, one of my cousins was caught, photograpically slouching in her chair. She is the cousin that is most in shape, looking nearly exactly as she did in high school stating that she needed to do more Zumba because of a nearly nonexistent fold crossing her belly after looking at the instant image my brother posted on Facebook.
I say this not to belittle her, because while she focused on her 'flaw', I sat there as the eldest cousin seeing the priceless beauty of the next generation stepping up, taking the mantle of leadership. For we were clearly working together to ensure family connection, me, foisted to the position of eldest patriarch in our family, they being pressed to see the graduation of a sibling also elevated as such. What may seem hard, rose with diamond like beauty to these footprints of faith. Our gathering had become a priceless and most precious memorable time, another of the many had as cousins.
I have come to appreciate my increase in maturity (though many may question its accomplishment with relative frequency). The passage of time has given me eyes to see greater value in things the world frequently gives meager import. We cousins celebrated life together with laughter and uniquely interesting personalities peppering our planning. It was so richly filled with fun and character having a sweetness unattained until then. As I take this moment to revel in and point out the importance and beauty of maturity my soul and spirit rises to more elegant and peaceful thanksgiving as I ponder the maturing of we cousins, rising to the task of keeping family connected. Together we are the rising diamonds of the family. Finely cut and polished by the circumstances of life, we came together to sparkle like a priceless necklace hanging on the neck of our family. More valuable than anything fame and fortune could offer, we assembled.
As I sat in the midst, surrounded by such deep and honorable lives, a gentle, elegant pride welled up inside this simple heart. Not the pride of empty boastfulness, but the kind of pride the most skilled diamond cutter has whenever he picks up a dulled, formless chunk of clear rock, carefully examining all its flaws and inclusions so that he or she can cut and polish the largest and most valuable light sparkling diamond possible. Along with the satisfaction of achieving maximal value and beauty from raw material, adding it to a priceless necklace for some to see. There is beauty and value that rises more richly and with greater elegance than anything the world could tout. You can't buy it. But everyone can own it with increasing measure and meaning every day. More valuable than the largest and finest cut diamond. More important than anything fame and fortune could ever dream of offering. It is the deepening measure of maturity.
When I was teaching in schools, I would often share with my students that we would think it rediculous if a middle school student (or whatever grade I found myself teaching) decided that they knew enough as a kindergartener having never grown beyond that phase in life. If we stop anywhere believing we have learned enough to get us through life, that would be a pathetic moment in any life. Doesn't this make sense? The maturing process is essential, dynamic and most precious commodity we gain as we press through our days and decades upon the face of the earth. Now, if only we could keep our physique and prime beauty of our best days in our youth. But better fleeting youth than persistent immaturity.
This blog emerges out of a time, two nights ago when we cousins, sitting around my aging auntie Nancy and uncle Yasu's dining room table, set the date starting plans for next year's family reunion in Hawaii. In a picture taken by my brother of us all sitting together, one of my cousins was caught, photograpically slouching in her chair. She is the cousin that is most in shape, looking nearly exactly as she did in high school stating that she needed to do more Zumba because of a nearly nonexistent fold crossing her belly after looking at the instant image my brother posted on Facebook.
I say this not to belittle her, because while she focused on her 'flaw', I sat there as the eldest cousin seeing the priceless beauty of the next generation stepping up, taking the mantle of leadership. For we were clearly working together to ensure family connection, me, foisted to the position of eldest patriarch in our family, they being pressed to see the graduation of a sibling also elevated as such. What may seem hard, rose with diamond like beauty to these footprints of faith. Our gathering had become a priceless and most precious memorable time, another of the many had as cousins.
I have come to appreciate my increase in maturity (though many may question its accomplishment with relative frequency). The passage of time has given me eyes to see greater value in things the world frequently gives meager import. We cousins celebrated life together with laughter and uniquely interesting personalities peppering our planning. It was so richly filled with fun and character having a sweetness unattained until then. As I take this moment to revel in and point out the importance and beauty of maturity my soul and spirit rises to more elegant and peaceful thanksgiving as I ponder the maturing of we cousins, rising to the task of keeping family connected. Together we are the rising diamonds of the family. Finely cut and polished by the circumstances of life, we came together to sparkle like a priceless necklace hanging on the neck of our family. More valuable than anything fame and fortune could offer, we assembled.
As I sat in the midst, surrounded by such deep and honorable lives, a gentle, elegant pride welled up inside this simple heart. Not the pride of empty boastfulness, but the kind of pride the most skilled diamond cutter has whenever he picks up a dulled, formless chunk of clear rock, carefully examining all its flaws and inclusions so that he or she can cut and polish the largest and most valuable light sparkling diamond possible. Along with the satisfaction of achieving maximal value and beauty from raw material, adding it to a priceless necklace for some to see. There is beauty and value that rises more richly and with greater elegance than anything the world could tout. You can't buy it. But everyone can own it with increasing measure and meaning every day. More valuable than the largest and finest cut diamond. More important than anything fame and fortune could ever dream of offering. It is the deepening measure of maturity.
Wednesday, December 11, 2013
Something Missing
The day of transition from island life to mainland has finally arrived and these footprints of faith step out with satisfied soul. Last night, many of the cousins surrounded auntie's dining room table having assembled with no go dates for next summer's family reunion. As my braddah (brother) stated on our newly established Facebook Group "Da cousins have me, da date is set." Dad and our Auntie Daisy would be honored to know that the next generation has been galvanized by their recent departure off planet. I am thankful our arrival here has been part of the catalyst.
While this trip had slow start (thankfully) it has finished like the whipping winds woken to this morning. As I consume my last "Local Breakfast" at my early morning McDonald's office, the blackness of night giving way to the morning sun, etched in my memory will be the laughter and sweetness of our assembly. Some things need no picture to remember.
Indeed, this has been a trip stuffed with good times and good things. Trust me, I had to make a trip early Sunday morning to the swap meet to purchase a suitcase. Now, with fifty pounds of Aloha trinkets crammed into maximally unzipped, bloating purchase, the remainder overflows into my other suitcase and I am more than ready to return home.
This trip would have been a much different one had my brother not come, and I am thankful for his joining this island venture. It has been wonderful to meet and stay in his friend Allen and Judy's island hale (pronounced ha'-lay), she at her mainland home in Fresno. Allen our gracious host here. It has been the perfect bachelor event for we believers. What are the chances that God would make available to my brother, a home minutes away from my uncle and auntie's home in the town of Kaneohe? And, more wonderful gift? Gratis! These footprints of faith sit here simply in humbling awe for the specific, blessed provision of God!
While this trip has been one of incredible blessing, building more wonderful times of ohana (family), for me it has been a trip traveled with continual ache. Obvious is the softening ache of dad's absence. I have been pleasantly surprised to discover that as we stop at several of his favorite haunts the pain strangely dulls, injecting comfort into my heart. Also obvious, I suppose, is the ache caused by separation from my favorite member of ohana, my girl at home, she being the penultimate gift of God placed squarely into my life. Carrie and I have had many adventures and explorations as our life partnership is allowed to continue, and I miss her.
I could not have asked or been provided a better friend and lover than the sweet, caring, generous gal God gave. In scripture, marriage is addressed as to two becoming one, and while here on the island, apart from my girl, constant is the feeling of 'something missing'. Carrie is more to me than my better half. She is the dark chocolate in my coconut milk, and if you have ever tried to separate the two, you would discover it to be near impossible to accomplish that task. Everywhere I go, she is with me. And just like this trip without my dad, I have discovered he is too.
As we finalize our stuffing of luggage with the resetting of hearts toward home, it hit me, wherever I go, there is something missing. As I soon will fall into the loving arms of my favorite human in the entire universe, I leave behind ohana living on tropical island half an ocean apart, having arrived home, missing my ohana here. Indeed, wherever I go something or someone is missing. But one day, it is my prayer that we all will join in heavenly joy, every sadness erased, every tragedy, difficulty and struggle never again to experience forever. Yet, while I am allowed passage and kingdom work here, I have also discovered that paradise started the day I gave my life to Jesus, everyday given opportunity to taste, see and experience it. Sure, some may think it easier to do so here, in the land of aloha, and, I suppose walking here at 5 am in the dead of winter in shorts, tank top and flip flops make it a tad easier, but I have discovered I can find paradise in every day no matter where or what the experience.
It is clear, however, that every moment is not experienced as paradise, for something is missing. Something changed that monumental day when first two humans partook of forbidden fruit. The unfettered connection with the God of the universe was cataclysmaly damaged that day affecting every aspect of creation itself. While nothing can remove the presence of God Almighty from around us, a barrier was made such that the re-connection requires regular and diligent seeking from our side. When accomplished, not by us, but by the Holy Spirit, His presence moves from around us into us, complete inclusion, moving us forward toward complete restoration. And it will be a process, none of us ever complete, something missing until we arrive home with our Lord.
It is my prayer, that should the God of the universe lead you here to read, that you come to find the real Jesus; Not laden with the baggage mankind has heaped on Him, rather the sweetness of engaging Him as your life, not part of it or as you might want to see, but fully immersed as He intended, direct, personal, life-giving. God not god on the terms of man, but on His. Until you do, you will find something missing, and should you never, that missing will grow to eternal separation, consuming you forever. I say this not to inject fear, but if that works, so be it. Rather, I speak of it for it is truth. Some of us find a calling to a life that, step by step becomes more filling, more complete, and I wish to clearly admit, I have a long way to go. I am thankful that while I walk through this world everyday with something missing, I know I have the most important relationship helping me move through each day with absent of parts of me.
Yes, dad, I will always miss you. Yes Auntie Daisy, grandma and Uncle Jimmy, I miss you too. Yes, Carrie I will always miss you when apart from you, thankful I can rejoin you soon! But wherever I go there will always be something missing, for now.
Tuesday, December 10, 2013
This Journey Joining
The final full day of our aloha get away has arrived. Before we winged our way here, my cousin called to let mom know that her sister was not doing well, a gentle volley to hush expectations of returning to the same sister she remembered a few years ago. But something happened. For mom, it seems her visit here has been the best twelve days of her recent life. I have watched the lighting up of my mom's heart many times, having privilege to join her on several journeys here. Best of all, my auntie was even better than she was last year when Carrie and I visited on our 30th anniversary celebration trip. She seemed energized with a comfort I have seen many times before both in my mom with auntie and Carrie with her sister, Amy.
This morning, missing my girl at home, I think of our many visits to her sister's home in Michigan. Those trips have striking resemblance to that demonstrated by mom. When sisters have grown close through the years, there is great comfort and that life blooms whenever they get together. I have seen my wife, Carrie, become something different when she is with Amy, and mom too. They talk more. It is as if an ease, a familiarity is nourished, and it just feels right.
The older I get, the more it seems the Lord is telling me to listen and learn, from others and Him. It has been hard transition for me, but as I look, listen and occasionally get it right, my eyes and ears get to see and hear much more than ever before. New clarity rises from this exercise in listening and observing.
While initially this trip was about getting mom to her sister, it has also been about getting my brother and me together as well. This morning we will go on a final snorkeling venture soon, he rising earlier than usual. Yesterday's reef exploration and fish watching occurred at the infamous Hanauma Bay, being off season and in the afternoon, it was the least populated I have ever experienced, both with fish and humans. However earlier that morning, as I drove by, the parking lot was full...something that will occur next year should we visit in summer, only all day long.
Today's journey will take us to another spot which may prove better next summer. Also, when waves are smaller in the summer, other venues will open up on the north shore as well, but either way, all will be overflowing with visitors then. It has been fun to catch up with my brother and listen to a few conversations with our host, his friend Allen, whose home we stay in Kaneohe. It has also been fun to watch my brother catch up with cousins, auntie and uncle having not been here for 12 years.
It is our hope that we can bring all of his family, including his son's family from Israel here to the islands June next year for a bit of a family reunion, should that occur, and I hope it does, he will have a chance to more comfortably take the family lead showing them the island he remembers and recently experienced. We forget much. This journey, joining sisters and brothers together has has been sweet on so many levels; the depths of which I will ponder on the long transport home and as we prepare for the visit back. There is nothing as wonderful as journeys joining our family together.
It seems right, the passing of the importance of family on to our family, our kids having been given the same gift from our parents. I sit here overflowing with thanksgiving, remembering, or trying to remember all that my dad posited into me as he showed us the island where he grew, and having taken great courage to leave. This journey just another joining the life of his, and we get to share it with ours and our family. Hopefully, our kids and grand kids will have the blessing of coming to the land of aloha many times, speaking of, and remembering the lives here, each becoming a part of them. I am glad Carrie and I make journeys that join family in celebration. May this be the legacy we leave for generations.
Monday, December 9, 2013
Leaning On My Heart
 |
| Kailua Beach The place where dad, Rick and I body surfed probably some forty years ago |
For me, many things feel right as I move through my days. Often this feeling rises out of connections from past experience bringing comfort, ease and joy to my soul. Having been here in Kaneohe, Hawaii many times, I find myself slipping back into the funny kind talk of locals, not trying to act like one, just immersed and going with the feel and flow, the heart of the people infecting me with aloha. It just happens and while strange, hearing me talk more like a local, it is comforting and a bit shocking at the same time.
While driving to my office here at the McDonald's, and having been surrounded by constant Hawaiian versions of Christmas songs, I was strangely shocked by the singing of The Chipmunk Christmas Song with ukulele and smooth male voice. It just wasn't right. And while many things have just felt right here, as always, these feelings find balance in the opposite. Always.
Having faced the shocking loss of my dad, and having spent many times here with both he and mom, this trip is woven with stitches of angst. The loss of a great man leans on my heart with twinges of heaviness. Haunted by the onslaught of aging ails I see in my favorite auntie and uncle and its logarithmic progression from a year ago, the hourglass sands of ohana rests in lower heap with trace above. Sitting on the mantle of life, in the background, this too adds to the leaning of heaviness.
It is Monday, our nearing departure leaning on our hearts, this brief excursion with mom and brother to our island of ohana (family) will meet finale days away. Just like the retirees, having gathered here for years, nineteen of them at first, shrinking to a pretty steady five and today minus one, some of our family have not been able to find their way to meet with us while we are here, this too leaning on my heart.
Many are the legitimate reasons for absence, both for the past gatherings of nineteen guys gathering at McDonalds to talk stories, to the absence of cousins and relatives here. Some might think we stand around talking negative stories about their lives and choices, standing in judgement but that doesn't happen. Some are consumed with their kids and activities, others the only time to get Christmas done being the weekends and hosts of other good reasons. Rather than focus on their absence though, I am grateful for the many who made the sacrifice to instigate gatherings as well as make their way to the home of our auntie and uncle.
When dad was around, I would enjoy listening to him talk with various cousins and relatives learning about their lives, surrounding the conversations with his joyous and sincere laughter, warming them with his powerful smile. Now I find transition into his shoes doing the same while also listening to my brother make and do similarly. Comfort rises in my heart and soul as conversation and just being together can only do, my cup filled to overflowing with ohana.
Yesterday we joined our cousin Tammy at her church in Olomana, a small, sweet and spirit filled group of believers hugging rising comfort into my heart and soul. As the presence of God filled their hearts and souls, as well as the gathering place, God's love poured into and overflowed my heart. Jesus welcomed me with the loving arms of His children, connecting us with the life He has given them and me. As long as I have Christ and ohana, life's challenges can lean on my heart never allowing it's crushing. As long as I continue and choose listen and submit myself to His leading and call, my past experience combined with the refreshing new ones will continue adding comfort to this venturing heart and soul, even while sobering, painful and growing discomfort leans on my heart. If we look for it, a sincere sweetness rises even in the most painful of situations when embraced by the arms of God.
Without knowing it, those at Hope Chapel injected God's love and comfort into this soul, here, in Hawaii, missing the man who not only grew up here, but championed my growing up. Dad always said that we are blessed, something I, like he, clearly state and regularly revel in. Blessed and thankful. Indeed, while this trip to the island mixes with memories and the making of more, these footprints of faith find their way away from the woman who is my world and the of missing her deeply leaning on my heart. Yet as I sit here having been lavished in the love of my brother's friend and family here, both blood relative and relatives redeemed by blood of Christ, I find deep joy and satisfaction, God leading me here to be and do with those I love. The leaning ails may press in yet connected to ohana, never overwhelm and crush us.
Sunday, December 8, 2013
Foisted Into Shoes Hard to Fill
It is Sunday. And as always I find myself awake early, and at 5:30 am being 7:30 at home, I call my girl. And I find her sweet, familiar voice more refreshing than the warm, welcoming aloha breezes of O'ahu. The day nearing our return home is quickly encroaching and the usual rush to gather island treasures to share and wear has already been accomplished. So much stuff that I will be heading to the swap meet this morning to grab another cheap piece of colorful luggage to fill, not only dipping into our pockets for their accrual, but also for their added toll when we wing our way home.
After I grab and go, I will return to gather my brother and head to church in shorts, v-neck t-shirt and flip-flops. Carrie reminds me that we attended last year, and for some reason, I find my mind void of the visit. Maybe today's venture will kick-start my failing memory.
Last night while leaving a family gathering at our cousin Brad and Anita's mom's home another cousin Tammy told me it was good to gather, making new memories. And, indeed it was a reminder of our past, family, bunches of them gathering around overflowing tables of home cooked food in a stuffed house. Many were missing from this gathering with many excuses. As we drove home, my brother mentioned that we learned when family gather, there was no other choice but attend. We had excuses back then, but they flew out the window, often unwillingly, when family gatherings, impromptu or not were put on our calendars.
Not meaning to bash or look down on this gathering, those in attendance, including a wayward son of our cousins. We were raised by parents who were committed to Ohana (family) placing gatherings as imperative attendance. Last night we all had a great time as each were engaged in various conversations of family, learning, firsthand, of the life in each while recalling many of the wonderful memories of past gatheings. The wayward son learning that his cousin owned one of his favorite local t-shirt print shops. Hoping to garner free advertising material for him. Another cousin wanted to learn how to make Okinawan Andagi, we all gathering in my favorite Auntie's kitchen later this afternoon to learn how.
And so it seems to be starting again. Maybe pressed forward by the absence of some we love, more are discovering the need to preserve, as part of the family experience, the sweet things we remember of days gone by. Many trips have been made here, to the islands without my dad, this one being the first knowing he will not soon be returning with us, me now being the patriarch icon. It is both sobering with rising discomfort as I assume the role, and in some ways, I hope this discomfort never goes away. For we get lulled into slothfulness, especially with family gatherings easily; many distractions and things to do getting in the way of Ohana.
As I ponder where and who I am, I find my heart and soul rising with abounding thanksgiving as I remember all the family gatherings we had and attended while growing up. I am glad that Carrie and I have had opportunity to continue making the sacrifice to travel, keeping in contact with and growing in relationship with our family. And, what better place to come than Hawaii. No matter where they are, be it here, Michigan or Wisconsin, and a host of other places, it is time we continue growing our connections. It is often said that good leaders do not demand anything they are unwilling to do from those they lead and it is my desire to become a good leader, attempting to fill the enormous shoes of my father.
While he never sought it, all members of our family speak with warmth and kindness as they speak of dad. Family was his priority and I am thankful for my lessons of Ohana forged into my life. Its my turn to rise to the calling, encouraging the gathering of Ohana, wherever it is. My father led by example, I must too; not out of duty, but genuine, sincere love. Foisted into shoes hard to fill, fill I must. Our family depends upon the family patriarchs to continue the gatherings, continue the love, continue the connection of family. May it be so as we press ahead through our remaining years.
After I grab and go, I will return to gather my brother and head to church in shorts, v-neck t-shirt and flip-flops. Carrie reminds me that we attended last year, and for some reason, I find my mind void of the visit. Maybe today's venture will kick-start my failing memory.
Last night while leaving a family gathering at our cousin Brad and Anita's mom's home another cousin Tammy told me it was good to gather, making new memories. And, indeed it was a reminder of our past, family, bunches of them gathering around overflowing tables of home cooked food in a stuffed house. Many were missing from this gathering with many excuses. As we drove home, my brother mentioned that we learned when family gather, there was no other choice but attend. We had excuses back then, but they flew out the window, often unwillingly, when family gatherings, impromptu or not were put on our calendars.
Not meaning to bash or look down on this gathering, those in attendance, including a wayward son of our cousins. We were raised by parents who were committed to Ohana (family) placing gatherings as imperative attendance. Last night we all had a great time as each were engaged in various conversations of family, learning, firsthand, of the life in each while recalling many of the wonderful memories of past gatheings. The wayward son learning that his cousin owned one of his favorite local t-shirt print shops. Hoping to garner free advertising material for him. Another cousin wanted to learn how to make Okinawan Andagi, we all gathering in my favorite Auntie's kitchen later this afternoon to learn how.
And so it seems to be starting again. Maybe pressed forward by the absence of some we love, more are discovering the need to preserve, as part of the family experience, the sweet things we remember of days gone by. Many trips have been made here, to the islands without my dad, this one being the first knowing he will not soon be returning with us, me now being the patriarch icon. It is both sobering with rising discomfort as I assume the role, and in some ways, I hope this discomfort never goes away. For we get lulled into slothfulness, especially with family gatherings easily; many distractions and things to do getting in the way of Ohana.
As I ponder where and who I am, I find my heart and soul rising with abounding thanksgiving as I remember all the family gatherings we had and attended while growing up. I am glad that Carrie and I have had opportunity to continue making the sacrifice to travel, keeping in contact with and growing in relationship with our family. And, what better place to come than Hawaii. No matter where they are, be it here, Michigan or Wisconsin, and a host of other places, it is time we continue growing our connections. It is often said that good leaders do not demand anything they are unwilling to do from those they lead and it is my desire to become a good leader, attempting to fill the enormous shoes of my father.
While he never sought it, all members of our family speak with warmth and kindness as they speak of dad. Family was his priority and I am thankful for my lessons of Ohana forged into my life. Its my turn to rise to the calling, encouraging the gathering of Ohana, wherever it is. My father led by example, I must too; not out of duty, but genuine, sincere love. Foisted into shoes hard to fill, fill I must. Our family depends upon the family patriarchs to continue the gatherings, continue the love, continue the connection of family. May it be so as we press ahead through our remaining years.
Saturday, December 7, 2013
Desiring a Heart of Humility
My brother and I had a fun day yesterday, the morning starting with paddle boarding. Having never participated in the sport, we were able to eventually stand and make our way over relatively smooth gentle wind washed waters. There were even occasional small swells. I am glad that I can enjoy these times with my brother. He said that it felt so good to be in and around the warm waters here and I agree. It just seems part of us. Though the goal of paddle boarding is the avoidance of water contact and the demonstration of solid balance, most of the entire time was honestly spent either in the water or with quaking legs struggling for balance.
Maybe this is one reason I like trying something new; it is good reminder and excursion into humility. Often, others make something look easy, and as we embark on journey to join them suddenly discover there is need to invest time and willingness to fail in order to achieve satisfactory skill. Sometimes I find it is a skill I would like to add to my repertoire, and occasionally once is enough. But it is good to try.
Also, yesterday as we headed around the North Shore, I wanted to stop Kualoa park and fly a kite. And we did. While my brother walked the shore, my four line Revolution took wing over the green grass while the razor edge mountains, lightly dusted with clouds in azure skies stood as backdrop. The beauty of the islands meets something I love at home (flying kites) and then it hit me. As I let my brother attempt the art of four string kite flying, having the same difficulties I had as I learned to do so, in contrast to the previous experience of paddle boarding I was reminded of the investment made to become more accomplished in the sport of four stringed kite flying, having made good progress.
While my brother and I continued around the island, I occasionally think of the times my girl and I had made the same drive. I am thankful Rick is here, or the car would be silent, me making my way alone if it were just mom and I here. I am thankful for his input into my life, his wisdom and care. Once again, he mentioned a book I remember him speaking of in the past, my forgetting to follow thorough, doing my usual Amazon immediate ordering because we were not in a place I was able to do so. But this time, this morning, I looked and ordered, and it will arrive here in two days. Amazing.
Every day, my morning starts with praise and thankfulness to God my feet hitting the floor for yet another day. And every day feels like another paddle boarding experience. I move through my days trying to achieve the grace and balance of those much more accomplished. I have discovered that I need to accept where I am and who I am not worrying about what others see rather continue pressing toward the mark as God leads.
Just like paddle boarding for the first time, I continue having fun learning new things as I move through life exploring new skills God may want to press into me, or not, for there is more 'stuff' to do than I have time for, and, probably paddle boarding is one. But how many can say that in the dead of winter, where snow is finding deposit across the mainland, they find themselves standing on large boards in the balmy breezes of windward O'ahu? Okay, falling into warm waters while trying to stand on large boards in balmy breezes of windward O'ahu. And I am okay with it, desiring a heart of humility as I learn new things, needing continual guidance even in things I have accrued a modicum of skills, for I have so much more to learn.
Maybe this is one reason I like trying something new; it is good reminder and excursion into humility. Often, others make something look easy, and as we embark on journey to join them suddenly discover there is need to invest time and willingness to fail in order to achieve satisfactory skill. Sometimes I find it is a skill I would like to add to my repertoire, and occasionally once is enough. But it is good to try.
Also, yesterday as we headed around the North Shore, I wanted to stop Kualoa park and fly a kite. And we did. While my brother walked the shore, my four line Revolution took wing over the green grass while the razor edge mountains, lightly dusted with clouds in azure skies stood as backdrop. The beauty of the islands meets something I love at home (flying kites) and then it hit me. As I let my brother attempt the art of four string kite flying, having the same difficulties I had as I learned to do so, in contrast to the previous experience of paddle boarding I was reminded of the investment made to become more accomplished in the sport of four stringed kite flying, having made good progress.
While my brother and I continued around the island, I occasionally think of the times my girl and I had made the same drive. I am thankful Rick is here, or the car would be silent, me making my way alone if it were just mom and I here. I am thankful for his input into my life, his wisdom and care. Once again, he mentioned a book I remember him speaking of in the past, my forgetting to follow thorough, doing my usual Amazon immediate ordering because we were not in a place I was able to do so. But this time, this morning, I looked and ordered, and it will arrive here in two days. Amazing.
Every day, my morning starts with praise and thankfulness to God my feet hitting the floor for yet another day. And every day feels like another paddle boarding experience. I move through my days trying to achieve the grace and balance of those much more accomplished. I have discovered that I need to accept where I am and who I am not worrying about what others see rather continue pressing toward the mark as God leads.
Just like paddle boarding for the first time, I continue having fun learning new things as I move through life exploring new skills God may want to press into me, or not, for there is more 'stuff' to do than I have time for, and, probably paddle boarding is one. But how many can say that in the dead of winter, where snow is finding deposit across the mainland, they find themselves standing on large boards in the balmy breezes of windward O'ahu? Okay, falling into warm waters while trying to stand on large boards in balmy breezes of windward O'ahu. And I am okay with it, desiring a heart of humility as I learn new things, needing continual guidance even in things I have accrued a modicum of skills, for I have so much more to learn.
Friday, December 6, 2013
Rebuilding Return Resolve
 |
| USS Arizona Oil From Her Bowels Rising to Surface Some believe when the last WWII vet perishes the oil will cease. |
Tomorrow will be Pearl Harbor day. 72 years ago, in just a little over two hours, the Japanese would strike airbases on Oahu, bombs destroying all but one aircraft. In second volley they dropped and slid torpedoes into waters deemed too shallow for such. One armor piercing bomb found its way into the munitions hold of the USS Arizona and in moments all men perished in the wake of shrapnel and
devastation, the toll, about one-half of all who perished that day. It would have been a major defeat for America, but they failed to take out the fuel stores and also failed to take into account American resolve. All but two ships would be repaired, returning to battle and thankfully all aircraft carriers were out.
Yesterday, for the second time, I walked the grounds of this infamous attack. Sobering, Unsettling. Moving. You can learn some as you watch the faces and spirit of others pacing through exhibits. I saw tears falling from several in various places something touching their hearts, resonating in brief angst. Standing on the deck of the USS Missouri, where the Japanese officially surrendered, one lady, overcome with the weight, crumbled in a seat pulling out a tissue. Indeed, standing on the actual teak boards, where dignitaries of both sides stood is quite moving.
The distance of 72 years and half the Pacific ocean away, the memory of this event might be only a small blip on the radar of most. For the residents of Hawai'i, especially those on island who were present then, December 7, 1941 haunts them with regularity especially as Christmas draws near. But the American resolve started here, in their families with the spirit of aloha. The rebuilding, return and resolve of America has always fostered more and we hope to learn a lesson when humbled by the resolve of others whose desire is destruction of the Americans. Yet ultimately we are spared by the grace of God for there are numerous divine interventions even in WWII that changed the tide of battle which could have been even more devastating for us.
Psalm 33 says:
The Lord foils the plans of the nations; he thwarts the purposes of the peoples. But the plans of the Lord stand firm forever, the purposes of his heart through all generations. Blessed is the nation whose God is the Lord, the people he chose for his inheritance. From heaven the Lord looks down and sees all mankind; from his dwelling place he watches all who live on earth— he who forms the hearts of all, who considers everything they do.
No king is saved by the size of his army; no warrior escapes by his great strength. A horse is a vain hope for deliverance; despite all its great strength it cannot save. But the eyes of the Lord are on those who fear him, on those whose hope is in his unfailing love, to deliver them from death and keep them alive in famine.
We wait in hope for the Lord; he is our help and our shield. In him our hearts rejoice, for we trust in his holy name. May your unfailing love be with us, Lord, even as we put our hope in you. (NIV).
Indeed, it seems clear to me that God is trying to get our attention again. As each volley of attempted destruction enters our American lives, it seems to meet more with dependency upon our technology steeped armed forces and less upon the God who delivers enemies into our hands. My prayer these days is that we remember this lesson in response to The One trying to garner our hearts as we worship the only King who can save and deliver us. The rebuilding, return and resolve posited in the hands of God will redeem our nation should we choose to listen and follow Him. The choice is ours; Our pride costing us lives. May we look to God with humility for even the strongest can face destruction given opportunity by God.
 |
| USS Utah Having been righted this is all that remains above water, about one fourth the length of that remaining underwater. |
Thursday, December 5, 2013
Ohana Here
Plans change. By now we should have been well on our way up the thousands of steps ascending the "Stairway to Heaven", but one of our tour guides has a fever. Our trip will wait. For some reason, today isn't the day our plans changing. Just like as I arrived at McDonald's, my usual table for the past four days was occupied, changing my place in the venue. Yet some things remain. The same five men are gathered around their spot talking stories, again non-stop. It is, as many would say, 'cute' (don't let them hear that...or maybe at their age, they just wouldn't care).
While it appears a perfect day to ascend the razor edge climb, today is not the day. If I had placed all my heart and soul into the plans, disappointment would wash over me like a wave. But having learned lesson of expectation and disappointment, today will rise as a day not planned by me, unfolding by God. We may go snorkeling and I may go kite flying. Or, maybe a trip around the island, tourist style. Or both.
A life 'on vacation' for me is one devoid of over planning. General 'directions' exist, tasks and that which I'd like accomplish but not so much in cruise fashion, or tourist bus manner, just in generalities. And, should something be left undone, for me, here, there may always be another trip and Hawaii will probably always be here.
Our family is planning return in a little over six months, and after this trip, I am thinking my brother will have been given ammo to become his family's tour guide should they all join us. Having made more frequent journey here as adult, it seems as if unknowingly to both of us, dad was starting to hand over the keys to me. As an infant, I did live here for a while, mom severely homesick, dad sending her and I back to be with family. It was quite a financial and personal sacrifice for him as they could only afford a one way ticket, we not able to return until enough was saved for our return. Maybe that was all needed for me to feel planted as an islander. Maybe it is the numerous returns, just enough to keep me connected. There seems something here more than just wishful aloha.
Ohana here means family, and I do have family here. The older, my parents generation retired have time, the younger, those employed, mostly tied to their jobs punch the clock while we visit. But something has changed this trip. My cousin Brad is trying to get time off to take us paddle boarding this Friday, something not done by my brother or I. Comedic memories will probably ensue as we attempt this new activity as surely I plan on spending more time in the water than on the board. But it will be fun, mostly fun spending time with my cousin. Saturday the ohana will gather at their home for dinner. The cousins now in charge of the gatherings, the torch passing down a generation, we are now responsible as leaders in the tradition.
The most valuable of all gifts here is the gift of ohana. Not just on the islands, everywhere. The here I refer to is anywhere on the planet. Ohana here includes friends, those whose lives intertwine as life moves forward. Whether related by blood or not, elder family members are called uncle and auntie and are included in all manner of family gatherings. As Christians we might call these, disciples, those engaging with us in 'life together'. We believers could learn much from the ideas of family here as blood lines diminish in the eyes of devoted care and love. I have discovered many uncles and aunties who are not related by blood, but I thought they were.
Might this be the key to heavenly ohana? It strikes me here, that if we go back to the beginning, do we not all share the same blood of Adam and Eve? Are we not one humongous ohana? Maybe ohana here fully emulates heavenly ohana, lines blurring as our lives share in and out of one another's needs and blessings. My view of ohana broadens with each passing day. Surely the close blood relatives should have deeper connection, and mostly for us, they do. But our heritage of the larger sense of ohana brings thankful blessing into these footprints of faith.
Ohana here infects my understanding of ohana at home. I am thankful for my church ohana. I am thankful for my friend ohana. So many are part and parcel of my life and the life of our household ohana. Indeed, ohana here means family. And as I age, I find my ohana abundantly more far reaching than that of close blood. The ohana of God deep and rich, we sharing in the blessings, we gleaning the grace and love spreading it to one another. May we all remember ohana here.
While it appears a perfect day to ascend the razor edge climb, today is not the day. If I had placed all my heart and soul into the plans, disappointment would wash over me like a wave. But having learned lesson of expectation and disappointment, today will rise as a day not planned by me, unfolding by God. We may go snorkeling and I may go kite flying. Or, maybe a trip around the island, tourist style. Or both.
A life 'on vacation' for me is one devoid of over planning. General 'directions' exist, tasks and that which I'd like accomplish but not so much in cruise fashion, or tourist bus manner, just in generalities. And, should something be left undone, for me, here, there may always be another trip and Hawaii will probably always be here.
Our family is planning return in a little over six months, and after this trip, I am thinking my brother will have been given ammo to become his family's tour guide should they all join us. Having made more frequent journey here as adult, it seems as if unknowingly to both of us, dad was starting to hand over the keys to me. As an infant, I did live here for a while, mom severely homesick, dad sending her and I back to be with family. It was quite a financial and personal sacrifice for him as they could only afford a one way ticket, we not able to return until enough was saved for our return. Maybe that was all needed for me to feel planted as an islander. Maybe it is the numerous returns, just enough to keep me connected. There seems something here more than just wishful aloha.
Ohana here means family, and I do have family here. The older, my parents generation retired have time, the younger, those employed, mostly tied to their jobs punch the clock while we visit. But something has changed this trip. My cousin Brad is trying to get time off to take us paddle boarding this Friday, something not done by my brother or I. Comedic memories will probably ensue as we attempt this new activity as surely I plan on spending more time in the water than on the board. But it will be fun, mostly fun spending time with my cousin. Saturday the ohana will gather at their home for dinner. The cousins now in charge of the gatherings, the torch passing down a generation, we are now responsible as leaders in the tradition.
The most valuable of all gifts here is the gift of ohana. Not just on the islands, everywhere. The here I refer to is anywhere on the planet. Ohana here includes friends, those whose lives intertwine as life moves forward. Whether related by blood or not, elder family members are called uncle and auntie and are included in all manner of family gatherings. As Christians we might call these, disciples, those engaging with us in 'life together'. We believers could learn much from the ideas of family here as blood lines diminish in the eyes of devoted care and love. I have discovered many uncles and aunties who are not related by blood, but I thought they were.
Might this be the key to heavenly ohana? It strikes me here, that if we go back to the beginning, do we not all share the same blood of Adam and Eve? Are we not one humongous ohana? Maybe ohana here fully emulates heavenly ohana, lines blurring as our lives share in and out of one another's needs and blessings. My view of ohana broadens with each passing day. Surely the close blood relatives should have deeper connection, and mostly for us, they do. But our heritage of the larger sense of ohana brings thankful blessing into these footprints of faith.
Ohana here infects my understanding of ohana at home. I am thankful for my church ohana. I am thankful for my friend ohana. So many are part and parcel of my life and the life of our household ohana. Indeed, ohana here means family. And as I age, I find my ohana abundantly more far reaching than that of close blood. The ohana of God deep and rich, we sharing in the blessings, we gleaning the grace and love spreading it to one another. May we all remember ohana here.
Wednesday, December 4, 2013
Choosing Our Fork
Tomorrow, there will be no early post, this guy, his brah, cousin and her boyfriend ascending the Haiku Stairs...for me, off the couch. It is the ultimate 'stairmaster', nearly 4,000 steps to the top, and, I hope, the sole reason for my absent or delayed post is just the activity. Having seen actual photos from the top, it is my hope, and I mean hope, that I can ascend the entire 'trail' or should I say trial. The journey is safe, much safer than the Olamana hike, we may attempt the next day. Individuals have perished on both, for many different reasons. When your time is up, it is.
Hearing the McDonald's men talk stories, one just said there used to be 19 of them gathered here, but at most I've yet seen five. Some of the absent are bound to wheelchairs unable to drive, unable to make the 'morning meeting'. This journey, my journey, these footsteps of faith have delivered mom to her sister continuing down what remains her path, our path of life. The path of living holds many forks each with different outcome, some result forging in us our character. Yes, continually I ponder the choices I have made the gamut spanned between good and bad, wise and foolish.
Like the sun rising, thus far, the days of living continue for this soul in spite of any foolishness on my part, and while it not my desire to test the Lord, His compassion pressed into my life for another day's earthly existence is satisfying result. I cannot help it that my life has been intensely colored by the recent loss of my father. Nor that as I look around me, I find reminders, both gentle like the breezes of aloha and raging like hurricanes too the gamut spanned between.
Without adventure, or the attempt of such, life might feel 'safe' but is a life without 'risk' as fulfilling as one coddled and mitigated to eliminate exploit? I remain unconvinced of the latter. The absolute sweetness of grace rises from experience of the despicable underpinnings of sin. The raucous celebrations and accomplishments garner fuller joy having faced debilitating defeat. While there need be some limit to the extremes, God seems to mitigate my foolishness, at least thus far.
As I ponder tomorrow's trip, my desire is shutter depression, capturing first hand, the pinnacle of ascent carrying my body and camera up the Haiku Stairs better known as the "Stairway to Heaven". At 56, my Hawaiian friend Leonard admitting he is not up to task, I sit here, having consumed another Portuguese Sausage, egg and rice breakfast not admitting defeat before I go, but willing to face it when I go should that be the result. But should this tired soul ascend to the top, achievement of many much older and in poorer shape, I will enjoy the view not vicariously but personally another foolish achievement having expending great effort for what many might not be able or willing do.
Whether we 'risk' or not, everyday is another step on the "Stairway to Heaven", or not. Clearly our path, our choice at each fork begins sealing our eternal destination. What stands amazing to me, is the grace of God exists even at the end of a life having chosen ALL the wrong forks for ALL the wrong reasons, He willing to redeem the darkest of lives at the final hour with the equal compassion as He has for the woman whose faithful, but sinful life allowed her to deliver the King of King and Lord of Lords into our world. Mary's willingness to accept God's fork on her path also sealed her own delivery from the throes of sin, allowing heavenly entry as she mothered the God of the universe.
While I 'may' get to revel in the glory of accomplishment at the top (tomorrow the top of the "Stairway to Heaven") , each achievement speaks not of my volition, rather the volition and accomplishment of God's allowance to enter into such. For such is not for my personal glory, rather His. There is no risk when it resides in the presence and leading of our Lord. For it is He who presses movement through depths of tragedy to pinnacles of achievement. These steps all allowed and protected by the God of the universe.
If we would examine our lives not competitively but rather as personal calling and leading, comparison would fall by the wayside, those achieving greater simply rising to a different calling than those appearing lesser or unable to do so. The key to satisfied living is not striving for maximum extremes of depths or the pinnacles in a life, but that each life understands and appreciates their own. Daily we have opportunity, choosing our fork yielding greatest gains for the glory of God. Should we get it right, He will lead us to see the most incredible views of life and living ALL gift of His hand for His glory. And, should we get it all wrong, He offers redemption of those wrongs through and to the very final moments of life and living. I rejoice in privilege, seeing His grace today with abundant thanksgiving. How is it I get to stand and see that He is God? By choosing to pick the fork that feeds my soul. You can too. Will you?
Hearing the McDonald's men talk stories, one just said there used to be 19 of them gathered here, but at most I've yet seen five. Some of the absent are bound to wheelchairs unable to drive, unable to make the 'morning meeting'. This journey, my journey, these footsteps of faith have delivered mom to her sister continuing down what remains her path, our path of life. The path of living holds many forks each with different outcome, some result forging in us our character. Yes, continually I ponder the choices I have made the gamut spanned between good and bad, wise and foolish.
Like the sun rising, thus far, the days of living continue for this soul in spite of any foolishness on my part, and while it not my desire to test the Lord, His compassion pressed into my life for another day's earthly existence is satisfying result. I cannot help it that my life has been intensely colored by the recent loss of my father. Nor that as I look around me, I find reminders, both gentle like the breezes of aloha and raging like hurricanes too the gamut spanned between.
Without adventure, or the attempt of such, life might feel 'safe' but is a life without 'risk' as fulfilling as one coddled and mitigated to eliminate exploit? I remain unconvinced of the latter. The absolute sweetness of grace rises from experience of the despicable underpinnings of sin. The raucous celebrations and accomplishments garner fuller joy having faced debilitating defeat. While there need be some limit to the extremes, God seems to mitigate my foolishness, at least thus far.
As I ponder tomorrow's trip, my desire is shutter depression, capturing first hand, the pinnacle of ascent carrying my body and camera up the Haiku Stairs better known as the "Stairway to Heaven". At 56, my Hawaiian friend Leonard admitting he is not up to task, I sit here, having consumed another Portuguese Sausage, egg and rice breakfast not admitting defeat before I go, but willing to face it when I go should that be the result. But should this tired soul ascend to the top, achievement of many much older and in poorer shape, I will enjoy the view not vicariously but personally another foolish achievement having expending great effort for what many might not be able or willing do.
Whether we 'risk' or not, everyday is another step on the "Stairway to Heaven", or not. Clearly our path, our choice at each fork begins sealing our eternal destination. What stands amazing to me, is the grace of God exists even at the end of a life having chosen ALL the wrong forks for ALL the wrong reasons, He willing to redeem the darkest of lives at the final hour with the equal compassion as He has for the woman whose faithful, but sinful life allowed her to deliver the King of King and Lord of Lords into our world. Mary's willingness to accept God's fork on her path also sealed her own delivery from the throes of sin, allowing heavenly entry as she mothered the God of the universe.
While I 'may' get to revel in the glory of accomplishment at the top (tomorrow the top of the "Stairway to Heaven") , each achievement speaks not of my volition, rather the volition and accomplishment of God's allowance to enter into such. For such is not for my personal glory, rather His. There is no risk when it resides in the presence and leading of our Lord. For it is He who presses movement through depths of tragedy to pinnacles of achievement. These steps all allowed and protected by the God of the universe.
If we would examine our lives not competitively but rather as personal calling and leading, comparison would fall by the wayside, those achieving greater simply rising to a different calling than those appearing lesser or unable to do so. The key to satisfied living is not striving for maximum extremes of depths or the pinnacles in a life, but that each life understands and appreciates their own. Daily we have opportunity, choosing our fork yielding greatest gains for the glory of God. Should we get it right, He will lead us to see the most incredible views of life and living ALL gift of His hand for His glory. And, should we get it all wrong, He offers redemption of those wrongs through and to the very final moments of life and living. I rejoice in privilege, seeing His grace today with abundant thanksgiving. How is it I get to stand and see that He is God? By choosing to pick the fork that feeds my soul. You can too. Will you?
Tuesday, December 3, 2013
Drinking Deeply
Sisters. Siblings. Family. This trip to Hawaii's focus. As we prepared to leave the states we heard that my Auntie was not doing well, yet when we arrived and the sisters came together, my Auntie sprung to life. The familiar smile, talking stories and entire countenance transformed by our arrival, according to my cousin, Donna (her daughter). Powerful medicine can be found in close, strong, deeply loving relationship. As I sit watching mom and auntie do together, the world seems right. It is as I remember, like breathing in balmy, refreshing breezes of aloha.
 |
| Mom and Sister (my Auntie Nancy) |
Visiting the Arakawa gravesite is regular homage when on Oahu, along with a visit to dad's mom's urn. It is consistent reminder to the journey of life started here and carried from us, body and soul distant from marker. Two sisters connected by familial heritage spanning thousands of years, a minuscule testimony of which is engraved on singular headstone. A reverent hush pours into my soul as I watch loving care trim flowers. Kneeling, I am tasked with the arranging, familiar task performed before my dad's stone. Before my lens a moment in time all poured into by millennia of moments two sisters and my auntie's loving husband connected with we, mom's sons, in memoriam.
It is great treat to have my brother here sharing in my experience of my familiar island excursions. Having visited with greater frequency, the island has familiarity I find in Rogers City Michigan, frequently visited home of Carrie, my bride's family. What will also be wonderful will be the new explorations Rick and I will share together, things not experienced with dad and mom as we connect with our cousins and their children.
As alluded to in previous blogs, dad forged in us a bit of adventurous spirit and we are blessed to venture into new territory, together. The laid back island way is always welcomed by my soul, departure from the rat race life I lead on the mainland. Not knowing what to expect, the new adventures ahead include a trip up The Stairway to Heaven and paddle boarding with our cousin Brad, along with some snorkeling having brought equipment for this activity.
I was hoping for some alone time and it seems best in these early morning hours (5 am here) at none other than McDonald's. The days have the familiar breathings of days at home, preparing and listening to my Lord as He wakes the day with light gracefully illuminating the world around me. My desire to experience the day He has set before me, seeing and doing as He desires, speaking less and listening more. As my head hits pillows, my mind reflecting on day's activities, the peace of God fills my soul, deep thanksgiving rising from His blessings provided in each island day unfolding before me thus far. Gratefulness that God led me to escort my mom to her sister's side, and that my brother has joined me as part of this journey.
Life is so brief; the moments so fleeting, the memories as well. Time slips by. But how precious the memories, the moments and time we get to spend together in love and grace. I wish I would have learned this valuable lesson long ago, for I have missed so much immersed and steeped in my selfish, self-centered majority of my life. Yet here I sit thankful for redemption from that self consumption, given eyes to see the bounty and beauty of that which surrounds me. Maybe part of my desire to return with greater frequency to the islands is the captivation of my eyes and soul in the spirit of aloha. Time slows here. Life slows here. Love, family love fills my soul with refreshment like the deluge of yesterday's torrential rain. It is like the detritus of the world gets washed from my soul as the aloha cleanses me. And no, I'm not speaking of the 'mystic' aloha, but the aloha from God Himself, provided me as He leads me to visit family and new friends here taking in the precious memories and moments of family. Drinking deeply while we can.
Monday, December 2, 2013
And It Just Feels Right
Starting day three of my trip, my order time stamped at 5:51 am local time, slack key guitar picking away "The Christmas Song", elderly locals (men this morning) talking stories over their senior coffee and lighter breakfast, while my brother and landlord sleep, this heart continues rising in thanksgiving. While I have journeyed to the islands many times, this is the first during the Christmas season, and it just feels right. My brother and mother here, we ave talked stories with her sister, husband, daughters, grand daughter, her boyfriend and his son, yes, it just feels right, minus the laughter and carrying ons of dad.
Dad instilled his love for trying new things in me, and just like a good son, I took it to another level, venturing and doing, with passion, exploring new things. It seems fitting that this first Christmastime excursion to the islands fall on the heels of his absence. This too feels right. But it also has the feel of something old, as mom, Rick and I have been here before without dad, he remaining home to work (and pay for) our time here in our younger days.
With a week and two days ahead of us, and few 'plans' this feels right too. I have shared in past blogs the working of God in my life centered around disappointments, majority of them rising out of my expectations God had not intended for me to experience, having differing plans. As I change my process of planning my days, sweeter unfoldings have become more the norm, with far less influx of disappointment.
While I sit here for the past hour various forms of "I'll be Home for Christmas" have played, Island style. This too feels right. I will return to my earthly home for Christmas, but for now, I venture into the experience of my parents as they grew up here, steeped in island tradition, my dad eternally home for Christmas, we someday joining him. I can say pops, that you have taught me to drink deeply of this journey called life. You forged in your son opportunity, fostering creativity and desire for excellence, everything done worth being done well. And I sit here, this spot on the island as I have so many times before, only this time with tears welling up in my eyes as I think and remember you. And it just feels right.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)