still...

"When the oceans rise and thunders roar, I will soar with You above the storm.

Father, You are King over the flood. I will be still and know You are God." -

"Still" Reuben Morgan, Hillsong Publishing

I only have a second. Much required of me today. But this blog has become a place for me to write down with a bit more regularity the account of God's activity in my life, often times looking more like humor than all things spiritual, but His activity none the less. This last weekend was in the all things spiritual category and without giving it the time I'd like to, here's enough to remind me when I look back at it and remember when...

I attended a worship conference at church Friday night and all day Saturday. The guest band leading the worship and workshop (Foundation Red) did a great job, both musically and spiritually. Most of all it was just amazing to sit and spend time with my still new but ever-increasingly familiar ministry community. And truthfully, I find myself further inland all the time and the borders of the "new" territory have grown distant of late. It's a different kind of familiarity, with little or no shared history but I'm learning their stories and having a great time settling in. I love them all. Already. And feel a little guilty saying so as if I'm betraying my friendships of past which is not my intent to do. It's just that the layers of relationships God keeps adding to my life are seriously such a blessing. And an encouragement that He provides and He participates in the making of me.

My timer is already beeping. I fast forward through the moments of discussion we shared over the course of the weekend, getting to know some people better, and the monumental discovery that I didn't experience one nervous bone in my body while their genius keyboard player coached me on the new arrangement of "Still" we were learning for the weekend's worship in front of the conference attendees. That aside, I experienced some of the most powerful worship ever. Ever. All three services were just through the roof. All the songs had moments, and the message was solid but the new song, "Still" was just, well someone called it anointed and I would have to agree, while at the same time confessing that I don't completely understand what that means and feel a prompting to do some study of my own, especially since someone else, who I was introduced to for the first time, used that word in describing me.

I'm in no hurry to be 80 years old looking back on this time in my life with a clearer picture of what God was up to...but I am curious. And excited. And nervous in a good way. Why here? Why now? Why me? I know enough to believe He has a plan and I know more than enough to realize there will be some major changes in my life within the next couple months that will stretch me and ignite me. I have had my share of rising oceans and roaring thunder in the last couple years and I can proclaim with conviction that He is King over the flood. I have matured enough to be still in the midst of it all and know my God is God. I just didn't expect there to be "more". Is it even possible to "peak too soon" with this Creator of ours? Oh, the sleeves of my Maker. He just never ceases to amaze me. May my life and heart applaud His performance...

y.i.b.

I'm gonna tell you a story. Most likely won't translate well in text but givin' it a try.

Years ago, one of my prized piano students, a young man, shared with me a cute little something he had undoubtedly learned at school that day. On a piece of borrowed paper he wrote:

M R Ducks.
M R Not Ducks.
M R 2.
CDEDBD Wings?
YIB.
M R Ducks.

Elementary or not, I didn't get it at first and assumed he had not practiced and was buying time. He then read it to me (clarifying by saying M R and not "mister") and I laughed. I can't explain it, but I have laughed at it ever since. At some point along the way I added a country accent, which in my opinion makes all the difference in the world, and shared it with my parents since that's what I did with just about every silly little thing in my life.

Fast forward to 1997. I'm walking the shore of Lake Michigan with my father. We were diverting our attentions from the chemo he was undergoing in Zion by some simple sightseeing. We're standing there looking out at this long wharf in the Waukegan marina and my father says:

YIB.
M R Ducks.

I looked to see what he was talking about. I squinted. I clarified. I disagreed.

M R Not Ducks.

M R 2.

Where dad? There? He points.

M R Not Ducks.

M R 2.

I'm laughing now.

M R Not Ducks dad.
There are no EDBD Wings.
M R posts.

YIB.
M R posts.

If only in my memory, that was one of the funniest moments of my life. I. miss. that. man.

*How I got there: I heard birds outside my window in the den. And thought...YIB...

Mercy shmercy. Suppose that extends to customer service? Tell me again what that $55 service call is all about? If my water softener isn't working, and I called you here to fix it, tell me again why I'm the one in the basement breaking up the hardened salt with a broomstick? After my $186 bill to replace the motor and well... fix it? You must be related to the guy who keeps showing up to winterize our furnace and never seems to have the right filters on hand but graciously hands me the filter number to get them myself. Long-suffering my butt. And I took a chunk out of my thumb in the process. Which didn't really hurt until I saw the blood. Ugh.

dang it...

I had such a great study this morning on patience. I want to sit and think about it but I just have too much on my should-have-done-this-last-week list to give it justice. Suffice it to say that rediscovering the truth that this particular characteristic of the fruit of the Spirit has everything to do with mercy, forgiveness and people, and not with the whole "stuff" happens end of things, was good for me to think about. Again. (Second time through this particular study.) As was realizing that sometimes God needs us to encounter people that rub us the wrong way (including friends and family) or bring out the worst in us so that the junk still taking up space in our hearts is brought to the surface where He can change us and refine us. And that any area in my heart found wanting in mercy or forgiveness is an area where I'm actually carrying that person around on my back. When I picture that, how stupid can I be? Not to mention I have no reason to expect His mercy on my life if I'm withholding it from anyone else. I can be pretty self-righteous at times. Easier to believe my little world is more perfect than it really is, even if it's a simple as thinking I'm always right, or my way is the best way. I'm just so quick to evaluate everyone else. Their motives, their choices, their blessings, their business and truth is I need to get a grip. I need to start seeing "me" for who I really am and quit measuring the faults of everyone else on the planet in an attempt to make me seem like I have it all figured out. Maybe taking time to put it out "there" is a step toward dealing with it and letting Him do what He does best. Lord knows, I can use all the mercy I can get...

how long before I no longer instinctively reach for the phone to see what dad's up to for supper...

Is it humanly possible to hear "How Great Is Our God" and keep your hands to your side? Man, I love that song...

no ifs, ands or butts...

My boobs crossed over early on. The booty- not so fast. Butt I'm pleased to report that it too has finally crossed the aisle. The aisle I inched across years and years ago into what it is known as "Women's World" in most department stores. The other day I actually purchased jeans in the misses section. Granted they are the largest jeans permitted in that section before being booted across the aisle butt I got 'em on and don't have to lay flat on the bed to do so. If you're skinny, this is going to pass you by, if you live in "Women's World" or have in the past, you'll understand. It's such a great feeling to actually walk past the X's and head for "regular" clothing. It's just been a really, really long time since I could do that. I have all the plus size department's memorized in malls across the Midwest and will always smile at the distant corners to which they are banished. I'm across the aisle again. I still have my grandmother's arms and layers of cellulite to deal with butt I'm making progress and it's the best feeling ever. I'm coming to terms with the fact I won't be as thin as I wanted to be for the big day in May, butt I'm proud of my efforts to get there. Besides, this stopped being about wedding pictures a while ago and started being about me. And "me" likes that there's less of me to like. No ifs, ands, or butts about it.

come saturday morning...

Kevin and I have pulled two late nighters at JK designing the wedding invitations/placecards/response cards/programs etc. etc. etc. We stayed until 2:30 this morning despite the frigid temps encompassing the metal building we huddled inside. OK, I huddled. He worked. I swear the computer schedule had the heat lower than the outside...maybe not. While I sat there watching my Kevin do his "thing" I realized several things:

There is something to this PC vs. Mac war he wages everytime he's engaged. When I ask for some miniscule alteration that in my PC head would take all of a nano second...I watch him complete a 12-step program for every little thing because of how things go to print, so that I like the finished product. Who knew. Artwork, schmartwork. For crap sake, just to send a copy to the printer looks like heart surgery to me. All these tedious little boxes to click, nothing, nothing is easy. Which is why he bristles immediately to my constant requests for little favors. "Customers" really are clueless.

My Kevin is really good at what he does. I knew that once upon a time when I would sit at his side all night in "the old days" of real graphic art. The days when he would actually draw this stuff with his skilled hands, before he started feeding commands into a computer system. I don't frequent JK very much and haven't been in his "corner" for a couple years, especially during work hours. I learned early on that his element is better for my absence. I walk in and send cosmic ripples down his spine. All good. But seeing him work and think and create and move around like a crazy man gave me a needed glimpse into his eight hours away from me every day and made me realize...

Come Saturday morning he's ready to disappear into his world of guitar picking and bass lines. He tries to head there at 5:00 each evening but isn't always able to escape before I hit him with a conflicting schedule he wrestles to get out of. He's been in graphic art for 30 years. The first twenty or so often demanded his evenings and wee hours in addition to the normal day in and day out. Always on deadline, always under pressure, always under the thumb of a business that needed it yesterday. Half hour lunches and demanding clients, year after year. It has been good to us. But hard on him. And he lives for Saturday mornings.

Gotta scoot. I have a seasonal reckoning with the house planned today and he's anxious to check his email for a collection of Chris Squire bass lines my cousin is supposed to send him. Come Saturday afternoon looks like we'll be hearing a little Yes...

It was time to move that piece of chiseled perfection down the page a bit and make room for some of the real angels in my life. Last Friday I had the chance to hear Gil speak at Central Christian College and it was more than worth my drive over. I would have made the trip just to see him, but to hear the emotion in Keith's voice as he introduced "our Gil" and then to sit and listen to a glimpse of what God has been crafting in his heart over the last two years was a beautiful thing. If you haven't read his posts on poverty you should take a minute for the challenge. I had read them but hearing him share them in person was pretty moving. So moving in fact that you'll notice I don't have any pictures of him speaking. I just couldn't do it, zoom lens or no zoom lens. It was just one of those mornings. Between Keith's intro and Ryan's gentle and sensitive worship I should have figured God was settling in, but Gil...it was just pretty powerful. Add to that seeing John take in his old college turf and sharing that familiar drive into nowhere land was a good time had by all.

So many layers of blessings in this life I have. My heart runneth over...

John. John. John. Just had to goof up my picture. Mark doesn't look like he's pinching you... 

Yup Gil. The hair is gone. All gone. 

the overslept-roll-out-of-bed-and-take-my-senior-picture picture... 

It took forever to get to Gil after he spoke. It was really, really good... 

John having a good time with old friends... 

John, Keith & Gil at CCCB 

Gil & Keith 

Gil & Jeremy... 

Ryan leading worship...it was nice... 

four words ladies. right click...save as...

victoria's best kept secret...

now that's an angel...yvonne sent him to me...
yvonne should remember I be a married woman-
a very happily married woman :)

speaking of love...

I remember my first Valentine's Day with Kevin. We had only been dating since the previous December and had made it successfully through that first awkward what-do-we-get-each-other holiday. [I gave him a cross necklace and copy of my senior picture, he gave me Halston cologne.] I had been watching for his car to pull up in front of Solano Hall and ran out the west doors of the building to sneak around and surprise him as he walked up the sidewalk. As I peaked around the corner of the old brick music building I noticed he proudly carried a red rose, obviously on a mission to surprise me. So I bolted back around and tried to beat him upstairs undetected. My heart had grown accustomed to the rapid pulsing whenever I came within a block of this guy so I knew it wasn't the double trip up and down the stairs that had set it in motion. I made it to the practice room but only after he had placed the rose on the piano and began his own routine rehearsal in the room next door leaving behind the amazing scent of his presence ;) The card, that I still have, read "Love is eternal. Love, Kevin" He always loved that book about Lincoln and that quote has accompanied many cards and flowers ever since. I have such wonderful memories of those times in our young love. Of the phone call he made moments after he had dropped me off at home asking that I meet him at Solano, he had "something" to tell me. I remember the room, where we were sitting, the Christmas tree in the corner, how nervous he sounded. And I remember our first kiss on the curb in front of the building as we were leaving. I wasn't as surprised as I was relieved. I had already told my mother I would marry this one. That was twenty five years ago...

Two weeks ago he asked me for a date tonight. Last week he informed me we had reservations for dinner. I was so stunned I told him we didn't even have to go. Knowing he had thought ahead and followed through was more than I needed. This love we have is something we settled into long ago. Not that we don't have our moments like every couple, but I love this man. He is my best friend and my safety net. I'd like to believe that this love is eternal, that it will always be a part of us long after we leave this place but I don't know how that all really plays out in the end. I do know, that while I'm here, and while we have each other, our love is as eternal as it gets. He's mine and I always knew he would be. And tonight, we're going on a date.

motb...day 84

I yelled at Shawna last night on the phone. Kept telling myself to stop but only heard my voice continue to raise. This must be the phase where they consider elopement. But that would be the phase they no longer live to see their honeymoon. I will not spend my last few months with her at home all torqued about her deficit in administrative skills. I just need to find a better way of dealing with her cloud dweller spirit and do the best I can to make her day a special one. I'm just hoping she'll meet me at least at the corner here. I'm willing to go more than the halfway point but there are just too many decisions we still need to make that need her input. And call me crazy, but having her input infers having "her" and between the job and the fiancé she just isn't that available. It will all get done. I know this. I just have to get a quick handle on how to get it done without making us all miserable. It just isn't worth it. I love her too much. Heck, I love me too much . . .

carter's suit: delivered
flower girl shoes: oh. my. goodness.
columns: rented
groomsman’s shirts: selected
fotb suit: selected
tubs for tidy storage of mounting misc.: stored
flower girl gift: purchased
attendants shoes: ordered
argument over shoes: regretted but we did get them ordered...

wally girl: did you find everything you needed tonight?
me: actually no, do you know if you carry Weight Watcher yogurt?
wally girl: no. don't know.

***
well, alrighty then. that whole first question thing had me thinking there might be some sort of inquiry, some sort of, I don't know, HELP?

Must say. I'm enjoying our second-thursday-of-the-month luncheons with the "girls". So far, it's just been my two aunts, my sister, my daughter and my cousin but hopefully in the months ahead my two cousin-in-laws will be able to join us. Today we met at the Park Bench and it was nothing special other than their signature salad [my favorite] and the company. But to have this hour each month blocked out in our calendars is something we should have done a long time ago. The months and years always manage to blur into one another and being this intentional about meeting on a regular basis is just plain nice. Should the Lord allow, we'll have seen each other 12 times more than we would have gotten around to normally this year and given the uncertainty of any given day it promises to be a worthwhile ritual...

Well it's about time I woke up to snow. Not that's what I'm talking about.

Be safe all...

:)

I have news. Really, really great news. And absolutely impossible news. Has nothing to do with anything recently posted although it might end up landing in the end-of-wandering category. Or perhaps the beginning of a whole new category of lost...

Will spill soon.

motb...89

I called in the troops. I admitted defeat. I cannot do this alone. Planner or no planner, files or no files. I assembled a table full of the most anal friends I have and together we are a force to be reckoned with. I literally spent every day for the last 10 days or so fiendishly compiling lists and checking them twice, searching the internet and placing countless orders. Yes, we began much of this process months ago but were beguiled by the illusion of a long engagement. The road has risen to meet us and found us dreadfully behind. I'm encouraged knowing people do in fact have shorter engagements and "yours truly" pulled her own together in three, count them, three weeks. I obsess to be sure. And no matter how I speak to the contrary I will over do and make more of a fuss than need be. So feel free to slap me if you think it'll help. She's my only one ya know...

boys suits came in today: perfect
unity candle pillars arrived today: beautiful
ordered wedding cake today: yum
ordered flower girl shoes today: precious
located attendants shoes today: waiting for input

Tell me again why we're leaving the country in 5 weeks??? Must. have. head. examined.

???

Some of the most intense outbursts of anger exchanged between Kevin and I happen to occur when we are....lost. Miss an exit when we don’t know where we’re going and wham. We’re yelling back and forth like a couple of morons. What is it about losing our sense of direction that tosses our insides around like a ball in a bingo cage? I remember when Shawna was little and would watch the same video over and over again, happy as a clam.[btw...are clams all that happy? and we know this how?] Anyway, pop in a movie she had never seen before and she wanted to watch it on my lap, always a bit nervous without the assurance of an ending she knew was coming. A to B. Simple. A to ? and we wanna puke. Especially when the time spent in ??? doesn’t seem to have an end in sight.

I’ve spent some time in the land of ??? and I have some good friends passing through as I write. It’s a place that might sound exciting to someone who could use a little jostle in their humdrum, but to those who don’t know if they’re ever going to meet that special somebody, if their children are going to land on their feet, if they should pursue a brand new profession or what exactly God wants them to do with their lives...well, it can be a lonely and frightening place to be. Especially when it turns into an extended stay.

I don’t know why we lose our way at times or why some stretches seem like one endless wilderness after another but I know I've never wandered lost for 40 years or waited 400 more to hear Him speak to me. I got annoyed just trying to find south 31st street today and I had a cell phone and a sister with her fingers on the city map. I'd bail if I actually had to wander for any real length of time. But the times I panic, the times I'm really scared, are the times I call out and confront my need for Him. They are the times He takes my chin and makes me look beyond the uncertainty of the ground underneath me and points to a place only He can see. A place no other eye can see.

I hate being lost. Brings out the ugly in me. But I love knowing I can crawl up in His mighty lap and watch it play out. I love knowing He’s there and that He has it figured out. I’m sorry the people I love have to get scared sometimes and it's about as frustrating as it can be not to have more to offer for their wrestlings than weary replies they already know.

It sucks to be lost but He’ll find you. I know He’ll find you...

I lift up my eyes to the hills—where does my help come from? My help comes from the LORD, the Maker of heaven and earth. He will not let your foot slip— he who watches over you will not slumber; indeed, he who watches over Israel will neither slumber nor sleep. The LORD watches over you— the LORD is your shade at your right hand; the sun will not harm you by day, nor the moon by night. The LORD will keep you from all harm— he will watch over your life; the LORD will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore.

~Psalm 121~

grieving and then some...

Well. It is more than likely a fair offer. Just lower than we were hoping. Poor poppa. Sure can't take it with you and even what's left behind for those you leave behind is subject to water damage and termites. Were I handy, might read differently but in all honesty the place needs some tlc. Veronica's doing some follow-up calls to see what comparisons might be out there somewhere. If we settle, promise you'll pad the figures if you should happen to see my dad before I do :)

greving and son...

My dad gradually, and actually quite painfully, bought his father's sheet metal business from his older brothers one by one over the last, I don't know how many, years. Of course as each would retire, the remaining sons would pool their resources and buy the elder brother's share of the company. Doesn't take a math genius to calculate that dad being the youngest of the four would shoulder the last phase alone. Wouldn't have been so difficult had the economy remained as strong as it had been when the honed skills of a craftsman were in demand and quality appreciated. However, as the industry modernized and non-union workers offered more competitive bids, dad ended up paying dearly for a business that didn't always compensate. We didn't know until after he died how tight things were when mom was so ill and he was balancing final payments to an older brother with her medical costs. Not to mention the tension of running a small business and caring for her through the day. He never complained. I cry just thinking about it. He worked so very hard.

Last spring was the first time he showed us around the shop. I don't think we ever really spent much time there unless we just dropped by to tell him something. I don't ever remember going upstairs and certainly never fully understood how hard he worked. While I spent my teen years sunbathing on our roof at home, thankful for the heat of the summer sun, he spent countless hours, year after year, kneeling on one hot roof after another in the scorching sun handling metal of all things. Not to mention the hours inside a warehouse forming innumerable gutters with no air-conditioning in the summer and little heat in the winter or hauling furnaces in and out of one basement after another. I wish I had got that as a kid. Even as a young adult. But I didn't really "get" it until that day we walked through. Thank God I did. And thank God I was able to thank him. Man I miss him. I really, really miss him.

Tomorrow morning we meet with a man who really wants to buy the shop and adjacent apartment. Nice guy. And it turns out he's the same guy who approached dad a couple years ago about it. It has a nice feel to it honestly. He knew dad and I know dad was interested in selling it to him at the time, we just got stuck on pricing for the antiquated machines. Both properties have seen better days but they certainly have potential for someone who knows what they're doing. We don't have a clue how much to ask and he's walking through my door tomorrow with what I'm sure will be a fair offer. I'm just struggling with the fact that more than likely it isn't going to be at all what it cost my father, nor will it bring any justice to the fact that he always seemed to get the s--- end of the stick, as my grandfather used to say. So you might say a couple prayers Monday morning, that we'll sense a peace about the offer and that it might be something dad would have felt proud to accept. It really isn't about the money. It's about a father who didn't live long enough to reap his efforts and the guilt I feel for receiving an inheritance I didn't earn. There's a sermon in there somewhere, just not tonight.

purest praise...

I gave Chandler a beaded HIStory bracelet for Christmas this year. I found it at Kirlin's Hallmark and similar I guess to a rosary, each bead is intended to represent an important part of Jesus' life. I gave one to Chandler because I believe God has been drawing his little heart this year and I thought he would appreciate the significance.

Veronica has been sitting by his bed with him at night reciting the gospel story via beads and had previously called to tell me that Harrison at first was a bit irritated with the new ritual and would leave the room or would simply ignore them for a few minutes. After several nights he heard them begin and asked for them to wait until he got back from the bathroom. He then joined them. Needless to say, Chandler has learned the pattern without Veronica's prompting and I hadn't heard anything more about it until yesterday.

She called, as she often does, to share some "cup runneth over" mother moment, and this one made me cry:

Chandler was in the next room playing his blue electric guitar patched into a drum mix on the new pedal we got him for Christmas and singing at the top of his little lungs. She couldn't understand what he was singing at first [he writes songs quite frequently...] and then realized...

he was singing the beads.

How sweet is that. In all my hours of rehearsal, all my perfect planning, all my near perfect performing over the years, is there a purer, sweeter worship in all of time? I can see God gathering the hosts and quieting all of heaven to listen. Can't get much better than that...

him. on bike #1: yeah, right. doesn't she have something better to do?

i giggle from bike #2 as a petite, waif-like-all-of-90 lbs. college girl walks past us to the adjacent treadmill...i could run like that too if i looked like peter pan.

prayer of awareness...

I confess to underestimating the faith of my father. I also confess to underestimating the faith of anyone outside my protestant roots. There are people of deep faith in and out of a sundry of denominational boundaries and people occupying pews everywhere who simply show up. I have to wonder how many spirit filled hearts I've dismissed along the way for nothing more than the fact they didn't fit inside my tidy box. I saw hands raised in worship once at a funeral mass. They belonged to people in the parish choir. Charismatic Catholics? Who knew. Same parish has had a perpetual prayer room up and running for years. I just never really thought about my dad being a man of prayer. Ever. Short of his ritual petitions written in a prayer book or memorized in youth. But I found this prayer of awareness hung by his phone in his shop yesterday and was moved by the aged paper as much as the verse. Imagine how surprised I was to find the same prayer on the wall in the bathroom. Not positive he hung them there but I have a feeling he did. I have a shameful feeling I overestimated my corner on the market.

FATHER - I COME BEFORE YOU - JUST AS I AM - TO PRAISE YOU - AND TO GIVE YOU THANKS - FOR YOU TRULY ARE - THE CREATOR OF HEAVEN AND EARTH.

I BEG OF YOU - IN THE NAME OF JESUS - TO ENLIGHTEN MY MIND - TO SEE THOSE THINGS YOU WOULD HAVE ME SEE - AND TO STRENGTHEN MY WILL - TO DO THOSE THINGS YOU WOULD HAVE ME DO.

GIVE TO EACH OF US - A DEEPER VISION OF YOUR PLAN - HELP US TO WALK IN YOUR PRESENCE TODAY - AND TO BE ATTENTIVE TO YOUR HOLY SPIRIT.

AMEN.

Seldom are things as good as they seem. I should know because I'm a marketers dream come true. Paste "new" on the front, it's a done deal. However, one recent purchase has if not changed my life, certainly perked up my morning. It slid past my knees like hot fudge down a scoop of handmade vanilla ice cream. [I would have used some clever illustration naming a winter Olympic hopeful skimming the hillside but haven't a clue who that might be.] This little baby handled both legs and underarms in record speed sans the usual nicks of a brand new razor and did it with such grace and agility I had to test the skin to see if it was actually getting down to business. Let me tell you my new pink Schick Quattro is all that and more. I. am. in. love. Even stuck my leg out my car window for my sister to feel my silky smooth shins. Something I might add I wouldn't have been agile enough to pull off a few months ago. Yea, me. So there you have it. Now if you'll excuse me, me and the razor are out to catch a schick flick. Oh, that was painful. Sorry.