I'm a bad blogger. But, I have an excuse for not getting anything more up this week. I've had 3 days of no computer at work. Monday ... nothing, nada, zip, zilch, zero. Tuesday it was back up ... sort of. Ok, not really. He brought it back, and it had major problems. I couldn't get email to come into my inbox and I couldn't get the internet to work. Ok, begin checking the programs off one by one.
I was able to finish the newsletter - but only because I spent two hours Tuesday night at home working on it. I called the IT guys back. "It's time to wipe the drive, guys." They had cloned all of my information - and obviously had cloned the problems as well. So, poor Aaron came back and spent the afternoon with me. By the end of Wednesday, my computer was acting much more normally and I was getting closer. But, I couldn't sit in my office. I had rehearsals. I also had a million programs I had to reload as well as printer drivers, fonts and everything else.
Back to work at 7:15 this morning. I got the bulletin done in record time and spent the rest of the morning trying to make the computer my own again. I like things a certain way and it takes a little doing for me to get there. But, I'm almost done! Wheeeeeee!!!
I took Max to CompUSA to pick up his final checks this afternoon. Poor guy. It's all done ... for real now! He was pretty down, so I just took him back to work with me. We stopped and picked up the laptop and headed out to church. That was a mistake! I didn't get any work done. Everyone came in to chat with him and he 'held court'. What a riot. Actually, it was a lot of fun.
Ok, tomorrow Beth Moore will be in Omaha with Travis Cottrell leading worship. I can't wait! This is going to be an amazing weekend. I've had the tickets since last fall. I am not missing this! Worshipping with Travis Cottrell is one of the most powerful experiences I've ever been through. You just have no idea. He's a phenomenal musician and that excellence just pours out when he leads worship.
I'll tell you all about it!
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Monday, May 07, 2007
A sense of humor
You know ... there are those days when the only thing that gets you through is the fact that you have to laugh! Today was one of those.
I got to work this morning, planning to be back to normal. I was actually pretty excited about it! A chance to think about something other than my own stuff. I needed to work on the newsletter and get started on some of the other pieces that need to be published. Cool. In the words of Spongebob Squarepants, "I'm ready! I'm ready!"
I walked into my office, dropped the purse, kicked off my shoes, tapped on the keyboard to wake my computer up and ... there was a message on the screen that the boot disk didn't work. What? Oh, you're kidding me. I pressed a key and the message repeated. Alright, I've been around computers long enough, I can handle this. I did a hard restart on the computer and the message came back. Yikes! I called Max (because I wasn't calling the IT guys if I could avoid sounding stupid). He told me there might be a problem with my hard drive. I needed to call the IT guys.
Alright, so I made the call and began working on some of the things I needed to get into the mail - thank you cards, etc. Aaron came in and again... I've been around computers and computer technicians long enough that I knew enough to walk away and let the poor guy figure out what was happening.
Pretty soon he came to find me. "I'm going to have to take this back to the office. The hard drive is dead." {shoulders slump, smile turns upside down, a slight sag to the head}. And I watched helplessly as he walked out with my computer in his arms.
Now, for anyone else in the office, it wouldn't have been such a crisis. All of their data is on the main server. But, somehow mine had never gotten connected to the server and all of my data is on my computer. And, since I run heavy graphics software, my computer has a large amount of RAM and can hold that graphics software. Argh ... I can't do any work. There is no other computer in the office that I can install the software on and I can't access my own stuff from another computer. What malice has been wrought in my life?
I tried not to twitch and foam at the mouth. People came in to chat with me, offer comfort on my loss (of Dad, not the computer) and I tried to keep busy. I had a conversation with the business director about the layout of the new Creative Suite offices and then, I was done. I had done everything I could without access to my computer and I was going out of my mind. So, I left about 3:15 - picked Max up (it was his last day at CompUSA - the store is now officially closed) and the two of us came home to be vegetables for the evening.
I'm not hurrying in to work tomorrow morning. I'm going to do our laundry and just be late to work. no reason to be there ... no computer to get busy on. Hopefully Aaron will show up with my baby all freshened up and ready to go again and hopefully he will have been able to recover my data. I'm PRAYING that he is smart enough to rescue the .pst file.
But, as I sat helplessly in my office this afternoon (have you begun feeling sorry for me yet? {giggle}), I realized this isn't the first time I've lost everything on a computer. My poor husband has killed my emails more than once over the years and both he and I recovered from those terrible tragedies. All of life is temporal. Time passes, information comes and goes. I can rebuild everything that I had on the computer, it's not worth my stress. But, here's praying that I don't even have to think about it!
I got to work this morning, planning to be back to normal. I was actually pretty excited about it! A chance to think about something other than my own stuff. I needed to work on the newsletter and get started on some of the other pieces that need to be published. Cool. In the words of Spongebob Squarepants, "I'm ready! I'm ready!"
I walked into my office, dropped the purse, kicked off my shoes, tapped on the keyboard to wake my computer up and ... there was a message on the screen that the boot disk didn't work. What? Oh, you're kidding me. I pressed a key and the message repeated. Alright, I've been around computers long enough, I can handle this. I did a hard restart on the computer and the message came back. Yikes! I called Max (because I wasn't calling the IT guys if I could avoid sounding stupid). He told me there might be a problem with my hard drive. I needed to call the IT guys.
Alright, so I made the call and began working on some of the things I needed to get into the mail - thank you cards, etc. Aaron came in and again... I've been around computers and computer technicians long enough that I knew enough to walk away and let the poor guy figure out what was happening.
Pretty soon he came to find me. "I'm going to have to take this back to the office. The hard drive is dead." {shoulders slump, smile turns upside down, a slight sag to the head}. And I watched helplessly as he walked out with my computer in his arms.
Now, for anyone else in the office, it wouldn't have been such a crisis. All of their data is on the main server. But, somehow mine had never gotten connected to the server and all of my data is on my computer. And, since I run heavy graphics software, my computer has a large amount of RAM and can hold that graphics software. Argh ... I can't do any work. There is no other computer in the office that I can install the software on and I can't access my own stuff from another computer. What malice has been wrought in my life?
I tried not to twitch and foam at the mouth. People came in to chat with me, offer comfort on my loss (of Dad, not the computer) and I tried to keep busy. I had a conversation with the business director about the layout of the new Creative Suite offices and then, I was done. I had done everything I could without access to my computer and I was going out of my mind. So, I left about 3:15 - picked Max up (it was his last day at CompUSA - the store is now officially closed) and the two of us came home to be vegetables for the evening.
I'm not hurrying in to work tomorrow morning. I'm going to do our laundry and just be late to work. no reason to be there ... no computer to get busy on. Hopefully Aaron will show up with my baby all freshened up and ready to go again and hopefully he will have been able to recover my data. I'm PRAYING that he is smart enough to rescue the .pst file.
But, as I sat helplessly in my office this afternoon (have you begun feeling sorry for me yet? {giggle}), I realized this isn't the first time I've lost everything on a computer. My poor husband has killed my emails more than once over the years and both he and I recovered from those terrible tragedies. All of life is temporal. Time passes, information comes and goes. I can rebuild everything that I had on the computer, it's not worth my stress. But, here's praying that I don't even have to think about it!
Saturday, May 05, 2007
A Normal Life
I'm not sure if I am there yet, but I'm trying hard to approach normalcy again. It's weird to realize that I just spent a week of my life dealing with death! My family has never focused on death. There is life, there is eternal life. Death is a moment between those two events.
The Memorial service yesterday was an amazing experience. Dad's friends from 3 different churches talked about his life and the impact that life had on them personally. But, one of them became a pastor, one of them works with youth, and another has been leading people to Jesus since she knew dad. His life affected these three people, who will, in turn encourage and change the life of others. That's a legacy!
Sonna Jennings from Sigourney has been a personal friend of our family for as long as I can remember. She invited people to come to Jesus. It didn't come from a pastor, it came from a woman who responded to an altar call many years ago. She was my mother's best friend and her son was my brother's friend. Their family soon became a part of my family. But, as she spoke yesterday, she asked us if we were confident that we would be in heaven were we to die. She remembered her training in Evangelism Explosion and has no fears when presenting the Gospel to those that might need it.
Yesterday was actually a time of healing for many past issues in our family. It's strange how we set things aside and don't even realize that there was a black hole in our hearts. A close friend of mine for many years had drifted far away from me. She came yesterday to honor the man that had given God back to her and to let me know that though we had drifted apart, her love for me was deep and very strong. Dad gave her back to me!
My junior high / high school boyfriend came. Alone. He drove up from Des Moines to be there for me. He loved my parents. He used to spend a lot of hours with mom - trying to escape the pain of a life that he was trying so hard not to live. He has lived a hard life since then. I have prayed for him over the years ... hoping that life would somehow be good to him. I loved him deeply ... 3 loves in my life ... he was the first. My heart was full when I saw him. Love never leaves ... it just adjusts to the circumstances. Dad gave him back to me.
I met the man who considered Dad his best friend ... like a brother. He was influential in dad's decision to become not only a pastor, but to attend Boston University. He introduced dad to my mother and then performed their marriage in the chapel at Boston University. He wept yesterday over the loss of a friend. I knew him only when I was a child, I haven't seen him in years. As we hugged, I realized that Dad was giving me a part of his past.
It was another chance to spend time with old friends and dad's extended family. Lots of cousins. Everytime I face another funeral with them, I realize that I need to find a way to keep them close to my heart. I love this family. Ok ... not all of them ... all of the time. But, they are my family. We have a lot of special people in common. Tragedy draws us together and reminds us that blood is thicker than water. Dad gave me that reminder.
We three kids spent a lot of time at Bell's Dell. Our friends and family were there with us. We spent time talking and playing, purging the place of junk and making plans for changes we want to see happen and will make happen on our own. We began planning trips up there with our friends. Trying to find a way to fill the place with laughter, fun and joy. Dad has given his three kids and his grandchildren a future.
This won't be the end of my thoughts about my father, but I hope to be done with the death. Remembering his life will be a phenomenal experience. I took for granted what he did in his life. I don't want to do that anymore. I want to express the pride that I have knowing that I am his daughter. I never want to be anything less than what he hoped for me. I want people to know Jesus because he taught me how to share the love of Jesus.
Sonna asked me for a poem by Edwin Markham that Dad used to recite. This is descriptive of my father ... and I believe is descriptive of the life I want to live. Oh, Lord ... I pray that I can become LOVE!
He drew a circle that shut me out -
Heretic, rebel, a thing to flout.
But Love and I had the wit to win;
We drew a circle that took him in.
Thursday, May 03, 2007
How are you doing?
This is the one question that I get asked every time I turn around. It's a great question, meant to encourage me to talk about what is happening in my head and my heart. But, this week? There are times when I have had absolutely no idea how I was doing. I was simply 'doing'.
It's amazing how much of the week was spent on auto-pilot.
How am I doing? I'm tired.
I've not been in my own bed for much of the week and that does not encourage quality sleep. I have been sleeping, but not really well. Last night I was finally home for a night and I was up until 1:30 am getting things ready to leave again this evening. When Carol and I left last Friday, I threw things together for an overnight - which turned into two nights. I didn't have enough of my stuff with me for that type of trip. When we left Monday afternoon again, I had been exhausted Sunday night, thought I would have time Monday morning, but after working for a bit at church, I was throwing things together again - this time planning for my uncle's funeral. I didn't have enough of my stuff then either. I forgot the travel bag! How insane is that? Oh, I had my shampoo and deoderant, but things like nail clippers and lotion just weren't there. I never had time to deal with those things and just kept moving through the week.
Last night I made sure that I actually 'packed'. We'll see how well I did. But, it did keep me up late. Carol and I are dropping off a van at the airport this morning for Priscilla's son's ex-wife who is flying in for the funeral. That has to happen early and then I'm off to work for most of the day.
So, I'm tired. As I was driving down to Uncle John's funeral yesterday, my eyes were burning and I kept yawning. Max generally does most of the driving when we're on the road, especially when I'm under stress. But, his ankle replacement is certainly putting a crimp on him taking care of me!
How am I doing? I'm frustrated.
This death has been really difficult in our family. My dad remarried after my mother's death. They've been married for 19 years and in all that time we have never been able to grow close to his second wife. She's quite different than our family and those differences frustrate us. Dad (and consequently the three of us kids) has never been about public exposure. We run 'under the radar' as much as possible. Our family has always been about accommodating everyone else. We make an extreme effort to make others comfortable. When people walk into our home or our space, they are made to feel welcome and anything they need is immediately taken care of. But, it's not this way now. Oh ... I am certain that dad would have made people feel more than welcome when he was around, but he's not anymore. We set aside our grief when mom died to make sure that the people who were coming in for the funeral could grieve. We knew that the next day would give us plenty of time to fall apart. But, it's not that way.
Oh, the three of us have set things aside. We've had to listen while her family goes on and on about their grief and all that is going to change in their world because of dad's death. We've had to invite people into her home because she stands at the door when they come to offer condolences rather than move back and allow them to enter. We had to leave things that are memories behind at the house because she needed to be surrounded by her friends and family. We've set aside our desires (and dad's wishes) for the funeral and events surrounding it - because as she has informed us over and over - the funeral is for the living. Well, the funeral is for her.
But, we all know that we will continue to grieve as a family and that can come later. My frustrations in this area are a strong emotion, and I know that they are exacerbated by grief. It's ok ... I'll get them dealt with.
How are you doing? I'm sad.
I just lost my father. My mom died in 1987 and my dad is gone now. I'm 47 years old and the stories and memories are gone. All I have left is what I have in my own mind. We are finding a lot of memorabilia - dad was quite the saver, but some of them have now lost the stories that were attached to them. We found a 1956 tourist's guide to New York City. Did dad buy that when he went to visit his sister that lived there? There is a 1955 guide to Washington, DC. Why is that there? Was that a trip to visit his sister's new husband? What about all of these pictures? What are the stories behind them? Can you tell me one more time about my birth? How the local town operator put one call out to the entire community to let them know that the preacher had a baby? Or about how you bought Bell's Dell.
My links to the past have been severed. I have to become the link for the next generation and I guess I wasn't ready to do that.
My father was a great source of theological discussion. He knew his stuff! For the last 30 years, he has helped me as I've questioned things in Christianity. Dad knew scripture so well that he quoted it chapter and verse with little to no effort. He knew authors. Not all of those that we know of now, but E Stanley Jones, Dwight Moody, he knew Augustine and the church fathers. He was brilliant, and he was moderate. He could interpret extreme liberal teaching and could explain extreme conservative teaching. He was a treasure that in his last years was only being shared with a very close group of people. I hope they know how fortunate they were.
How am I doing? I'm ok.
I know that Dad is in heaven. I know that his death was the best thing that could have happened for him. He was doing what he loved and it happened quickly. There was no long drawn-out series of debilitating (moreso than Parkinson's, cancer, a minor heart attack) health problems. He was still going out to Bell's Dell regularly, he was still fishing with his brothers, he was still going to church on Sunday and bible study each week, he was still going out to eat with friends and he was still having fun with his family. And then ... he was in heaven. Could a man ask for more? I doubt it.
I cry, but not because I don't know the truth. My tears are selfish. When I cry, it is all about me and what I will miss and what I have lost. God will heal all of that pain, in His time. He will bring me to a point that what I think I have lost is replaced with new memories. But, even 20 years after mom's death, I still cry when I think about how much I miss her. So, my tears will flow whenever my heart aches at the loss. It's alright. There's a place for tears in heaven ... I don't think God wanted us to operate without them.
If you don't see me cry - it's ok. I save those for when I'm falling apart completely in the privacy of my home. If you do see me cry - don't try to tell me it's ok. I know it is!
Check this verse out - I Corinthians 15:50-54.
I declare to you, brothers, that flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God, nor does the perishable inherit the imperishable. Listen, I tell you a mystery: We will not all sleep, but we will all be changed— in a flash, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed. For the perishable must clothe itself with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality. When the perishable has been clothed with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality, then the saying that is written will come true: "Death has been swallowed up in victory."
You see, I know the truth of these verses. Death is something that is associated with the temporary life we live here on earth. Victory will swallow death and there will be no more tears or mourning. The thing that takes me to the point of this entire week will be gone. It's a promise from the Father and I trust those promises.
It's amazing how much of the week was spent on auto-pilot.
How am I doing? I'm tired.
I've not been in my own bed for much of the week and that does not encourage quality sleep. I have been sleeping, but not really well. Last night I was finally home for a night and I was up until 1:30 am getting things ready to leave again this evening. When Carol and I left last Friday, I threw things together for an overnight - which turned into two nights. I didn't have enough of my stuff with me for that type of trip. When we left Monday afternoon again, I had been exhausted Sunday night, thought I would have time Monday morning, but after working for a bit at church, I was throwing things together again - this time planning for my uncle's funeral. I didn't have enough of my stuff then either. I forgot the travel bag! How insane is that? Oh, I had my shampoo and deoderant, but things like nail clippers and lotion just weren't there. I never had time to deal with those things and just kept moving through the week.
Last night I made sure that I actually 'packed'. We'll see how well I did. But, it did keep me up late. Carol and I are dropping off a van at the airport this morning for Priscilla's son's ex-wife who is flying in for the funeral. That has to happen early and then I'm off to work for most of the day.
So, I'm tired. As I was driving down to Uncle John's funeral yesterday, my eyes were burning and I kept yawning. Max generally does most of the driving when we're on the road, especially when I'm under stress. But, his ankle replacement is certainly putting a crimp on him taking care of me!
How am I doing? I'm frustrated.
This death has been really difficult in our family. My dad remarried after my mother's death. They've been married for 19 years and in all that time we have never been able to grow close to his second wife. She's quite different than our family and those differences frustrate us. Dad (and consequently the three of us kids) has never been about public exposure. We run 'under the radar' as much as possible. Our family has always been about accommodating everyone else. We make an extreme effort to make others comfortable. When people walk into our home or our space, they are made to feel welcome and anything they need is immediately taken care of. But, it's not this way now. Oh ... I am certain that dad would have made people feel more than welcome when he was around, but he's not anymore. We set aside our grief when mom died to make sure that the people who were coming in for the funeral could grieve. We knew that the next day would give us plenty of time to fall apart. But, it's not that way.
Oh, the three of us have set things aside. We've had to listen while her family goes on and on about their grief and all that is going to change in their world because of dad's death. We've had to invite people into her home because she stands at the door when they come to offer condolences rather than move back and allow them to enter. We had to leave things that are memories behind at the house because she needed to be surrounded by her friends and family. We've set aside our desires (and dad's wishes) for the funeral and events surrounding it - because as she has informed us over and over - the funeral is for the living. Well, the funeral is for her.
But, we all know that we will continue to grieve as a family and that can come later. My frustrations in this area are a strong emotion, and I know that they are exacerbated by grief. It's ok ... I'll get them dealt with.
How are you doing? I'm sad.
I just lost my father. My mom died in 1987 and my dad is gone now. I'm 47 years old and the stories and memories are gone. All I have left is what I have in my own mind. We are finding a lot of memorabilia - dad was quite the saver, but some of them have now lost the stories that were attached to them. We found a 1956 tourist's guide to New York City. Did dad buy that when he went to visit his sister that lived there? There is a 1955 guide to Washington, DC. Why is that there? Was that a trip to visit his sister's new husband? What about all of these pictures? What are the stories behind them? Can you tell me one more time about my birth? How the local town operator put one call out to the entire community to let them know that the preacher had a baby? Or about how you bought Bell's Dell.
My links to the past have been severed. I have to become the link for the next generation and I guess I wasn't ready to do that.
My father was a great source of theological discussion. He knew his stuff! For the last 30 years, he has helped me as I've questioned things in Christianity. Dad knew scripture so well that he quoted it chapter and verse with little to no effort. He knew authors. Not all of those that we know of now, but E Stanley Jones, Dwight Moody, he knew Augustine and the church fathers. He was brilliant, and he was moderate. He could interpret extreme liberal teaching and could explain extreme conservative teaching. He was a treasure that in his last years was only being shared with a very close group of people. I hope they know how fortunate they were.
How am I doing? I'm ok.
I know that Dad is in heaven. I know that his death was the best thing that could have happened for him. He was doing what he loved and it happened quickly. There was no long drawn-out series of debilitating (moreso than Parkinson's, cancer, a minor heart attack) health problems. He was still going out to Bell's Dell regularly, he was still fishing with his brothers, he was still going to church on Sunday and bible study each week, he was still going out to eat with friends and he was still having fun with his family. And then ... he was in heaven. Could a man ask for more? I doubt it.
I cry, but not because I don't know the truth. My tears are selfish. When I cry, it is all about me and what I will miss and what I have lost. God will heal all of that pain, in His time. He will bring me to a point that what I think I have lost is replaced with new memories. But, even 20 years after mom's death, I still cry when I think about how much I miss her. So, my tears will flow whenever my heart aches at the loss. It's alright. There's a place for tears in heaven ... I don't think God wanted us to operate without them.
If you don't see me cry - it's ok. I save those for when I'm falling apart completely in the privacy of my home. If you do see me cry - don't try to tell me it's ok. I know it is!
Check this verse out - I Corinthians 15:50-54.
I declare to you, brothers, that flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God, nor does the perishable inherit the imperishable. Listen, I tell you a mystery: We will not all sleep, but we will all be changed— in a flash, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed. For the perishable must clothe itself with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality. When the perishable has been clothed with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality, then the saying that is written will come true: "Death has been swallowed up in victory."
You see, I know the truth of these verses. Death is something that is associated with the temporary life we live here on earth. Victory will swallow death and there will be no more tears or mourning. The thing that takes me to the point of this entire week will be gone. It's a promise from the Father and I trust those promises.
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
The Greenwood Family
Today was Uncle John's funeral. We got up early this morning and headed down to Clarinda. I stopped at Uncle Art's house to leave Leica in an outdoor kennel. It was perfect. We talked for a few minutes until it was time to leave for the church. Max and I took off and when we arrived, we were escorted into a room where the family gathered. Lots of cousins!
There were 23 of us cousins. I remember one single time when all of us were gathered at Grandma and Grandpa's house. That was a wonderful party. I quietly sat on the living room floor and listened to everyone telling tales and laughing and enjoying themselves together. It only happened once.
I'm part of one of the youngest families of cousins, so most of my cousins were much older. They were already 'cool', in high school or college. I just wanted to hang around them. So, I stayed quiet, hoping no one would notice how late it was and that I was still up. I moved myself into a corner and enjoyed myself. I'm sure that mom and dad knew what was happening, but they didn't care. That night was special!
Today, a good portion of us were gathered again. Some of them I haven't seen in 20-30 years! Some of them had an incredible impact on me as a child, others ... not so much. Today, some of them ignored me (I guess being high and mighty is appropriate for them - ack), others came to comfort me, others were just glad to see me. I listened as my cousin Charles told me about his son. He was so proud! Dan graduated from ISU with an engineering degree and is employed by Caterpillar in Peoria, IL as an engineer. Charles' mother, Ruth would have desperately wanted him to finish college, but he was needed on the farm. So, this graduation was a big deal in the family. The pride in his voice was apparent. His sister, Cathy is so tender-hearted. All she wanted to do was care for the people that needed love today.
I could go through the 7 Greenwood families one by one - these families are so well-known to me. We span all of the personality types and we range from insane to mundane. My husband has thoroughly enjoyed the tales during our drives back and forth through Iowa this week.
I called my nephew, Matthew today. He got a 23 on his ACTs and was really excited! After congratulating him, he began asking about the family. Oh, I have stories and I'd love for him to have some of these stories in his mind. We talked about Grandma Greenwood. She was a wonderful grandmother. The epitome of a grandma. She had long, gray hair that she tied into a bun. But, at night, she would let it down and brush it 40 times. We'd sit and talk and she pulled the brush through her thin hair. When I saw her the next morning, it was always wound up again. She was soft. She wore cotton print dresses that smelled terrific! That was because we always hung her laundry on the lines outside. That was always a chore that I helped her with. It was a joy to be with her. But, when she sat down on the sofa and invited me to sit beside her, I would nestle in her arms and feel the softness of her. The dress, her skin, everything about her was soft.
Grandma raised 8 children, she lost her youngest, David at the age of 10 to polio. That made my father the youngest child. Those seven remaining children had families, who have had families and her legacy is carried through. If you ask any of us what that legacy is, it is our faith. Grandpa was a preacher, but Grandma was faith epitomized.
Today's tribute to Uncle John was atribute to his mother and the way that she raised her children. We're very fortunate.
There were 23 of us cousins. I remember one single time when all of us were gathered at Grandma and Grandpa's house. That was a wonderful party. I quietly sat on the living room floor and listened to everyone telling tales and laughing and enjoying themselves together. It only happened once.
I'm part of one of the youngest families of cousins, so most of my cousins were much older. They were already 'cool', in high school or college. I just wanted to hang around them. So, I stayed quiet, hoping no one would notice how late it was and that I was still up. I moved myself into a corner and enjoyed myself. I'm sure that mom and dad knew what was happening, but they didn't care. That night was special!
Today, a good portion of us were gathered again. Some of them I haven't seen in 20-30 years! Some of them had an incredible impact on me as a child, others ... not so much. Today, some of them ignored me (I guess being high and mighty is appropriate for them - ack), others came to comfort me, others were just glad to see me. I listened as my cousin Charles told me about his son. He was so proud! Dan graduated from ISU with an engineering degree and is employed by Caterpillar in Peoria, IL as an engineer. Charles' mother, Ruth would have desperately wanted him to finish college, but he was needed on the farm. So, this graduation was a big deal in the family. The pride in his voice was apparent. His sister, Cathy is so tender-hearted. All she wanted to do was care for the people that needed love today.
I could go through the 7 Greenwood families one by one - these families are so well-known to me. We span all of the personality types and we range from insane to mundane. My husband has thoroughly enjoyed the tales during our drives back and forth through Iowa this week.
I called my nephew, Matthew today. He got a 23 on his ACTs and was really excited! After congratulating him, he began asking about the family. Oh, I have stories and I'd love for him to have some of these stories in his mind. We talked about Grandma Greenwood. She was a wonderful grandmother. The epitome of a grandma. She had long, gray hair that she tied into a bun. But, at night, she would let it down and brush it 40 times. We'd sit and talk and she pulled the brush through her thin hair. When I saw her the next morning, it was always wound up again. She was soft. She wore cotton print dresses that smelled terrific! That was because we always hung her laundry on the lines outside. That was always a chore that I helped her with. It was a joy to be with her. But, when she sat down on the sofa and invited me to sit beside her, I would nestle in her arms and feel the softness of her. The dress, her skin, everything about her was soft.
Grandma raised 8 children, she lost her youngest, David at the age of 10 to polio. That made my father the youngest child. Those seven remaining children had families, who have had families and her legacy is carried through. If you ask any of us what that legacy is, it is our faith. Grandpa was a preacher, but Grandma was faith epitomized.
Today's tribute to Uncle John was atribute to his mother and the way that she raised her children. We're very fortunate.
Bell's Dell
I don't know how much I've blogged about this place before, but it occurs to me that tonight would be a great time.
In 1964, my father decided that since he was an 'itinerant' pastor and would never probably own a home (United Methodist's like to provide parsonages for their pastors), he needed a permanent location for our family. He and mom had been discussing a camper, but as they were driving around Iowa, they discovered this amazingly beautiful land! Lo and behold, it was for sale. Dad picked up 17 acres for $75 / acre. Hillside, meadows, trees, ravines, a flat spot that was perfect for a living area and it bordered a protected river (meaning that no industry could be within a certain space of the river). Wow!
The park directly across the road was called Bell's Mill park. There was a grist mill there in the 1800s and a man named Bell had owned all of that land. Mom and Dad promptly named our land ... Bell's Dell. It fit and it has stuck!
This place became our home! We moved every 4-5 years when I was growing up, and through that time we built a cabin on it, put running water in (an outdoor privy is COLD in the winter) and we even have air conditioning! We spent a lot of time up there (up there because we mostly lived in southeast Iowa and this was in north central Iowa) as children. Dad would take two Sundays in a row off and we would have a ball.
Carol, Jim and I have spent a lot of time together there this week. We had thought we would clear Dad's excess stuff out of his house so that Priscilla wouldn't have to deal with it, but that became less important as her family came in and her friends spent a lot of time with her. We'll deal with it later. But, we DID begin spending a lot of time together sitting around and planning our future with Bell's Dell.
This afternoon, a couple from up the hill and around the bend stopped in to tell us how much they were going to miss Dad. Of course they asked what our intentions for the place were. When they found that we were going to keep it in the family, they were so excited! And they offered to help us whenever they could. Their son went fishing a lot with Dad. In fact, I suspect that Matt kept a pretty good eye on Dad. That old man was a danger to himself!
One of the reasons we are handling this death so well is that we knew dad would die fishing. Now, one of the reasons that we aren't handling it so well, is that we never expected this! Dad fished IN the river. He would walk that river up and down and all over the place. Our bank was too high to easily access the river. He had a rope that he pulled himself up and down on. He would set trot lines in the river and he had minnow traps set. Fishing was really important to him! Carol found out several times that he had fallen in the river and had actually floated downstream aways before he got a purchase and then walked back up the river and pulled himself out and up to the cabin. Yikes! Stupid old man. But, it was definitely his love. We figured that would be how he died.
I learned to fish with Dad. When he was younger, he got himself all suited up in waders and a fishing vest. I had my own pair - well, they were a cut off pair of his. I set trot lines with him. We would check them every 4 hours. He woke me up, I pulled on my very wet blue jeans, walked down to the river with him and held the buckets while he pulled the fish off and re-baited the hooks. We all have fishing stories with dad. Dad taught us to love and respect the river. We weren't very old when we were learning to swim. I may not be the master swimmer that Dad was, but I am not afraid of the water and I'm pretty certain there isn't much in that river that would kill me.
We sat around last night and tonight reminiscing and talking about the future. We have a lot of plans for the place. When we were younger, we brought numerous youth groups up for retreats, we had family retreats. All of our friends loved Bell's Dell as much as we did. Men couldn't wait to get up there with dad and wire the cabin, or put in plumbing. In fact, it was a group from one of his churches that built the main part of the cabin. They loved Dad and they loved Bell's Dell. He loved to share it with them.
There's not much there that is fancy. In fact, I don't think there is anything there that is fancy. Some of the walls aren't finished (dad didn't want to pay higher taxes), the bathroom is a pathetic excuse, but it does work and I'm thankful, the place smells like mildew, or in the winter like a fireplace. But, it is ours.
Mom wrote an amazing poem about the place - it tells the tales that we know: Ballad of Bell's Dell. However, I want to close with this one that she wrote:
Benediction
Long years I thought of it and now
I have bought my garden;
I saw it, desired it, asked for it,
And gave the man some money for it.
It is my garden now, isn't it?
My mind answers yes, my soul, no!
I cannot own what is universal;
I cannot lay claim to ageless change;
I cannot buy the memories of other footsteps
Treading the same winding paths.
My garden is a meadow, a hill,
A river, trees, gooseberries, thistles,
The spring-popped morel, the dainty columbine,
The delicate warm breeze of summer
Laughing gently at my folly.
It is bugs, myriad swarms of clinging,
Flying, buzzing insects, sticking to my
Sweaty skin as I labor to trim,
Control, govern the lush new growth
Of a wanton spring.
But I cannot own these things.
Does one entrap the wind, command
It to gently soothe a hot, dusty face?
Does one really own free-flying birds
And deer who call my garden home?
I may live here, too, at peace with
The wild things whose roots stretch far
Deeper into this black dirt than mine. I am
Merely a guest, content to
Borrow the beauty of my garden.
The trees will grow here long after
I die. They will watch others till
My garden. The over-arching boughs of
The leaning walnut on the hillside gives
Its benediction to my garden.
Margie Greenwood
Bell's Dell
May 28, 1969
In 1964, my father decided that since he was an 'itinerant' pastor and would never probably own a home (United Methodist's like to provide parsonages for their pastors), he needed a permanent location for our family. He and mom had been discussing a camper, but as they were driving around Iowa, they discovered this amazingly beautiful land! Lo and behold, it was for sale. Dad picked up 17 acres for $75 / acre. Hillside, meadows, trees, ravines, a flat spot that was perfect for a living area and it bordered a protected river (meaning that no industry could be within a certain space of the river). Wow!
The park directly across the road was called Bell's Mill park. There was a grist mill there in the 1800s and a man named Bell had owned all of that land. Mom and Dad promptly named our land ... Bell's Dell. It fit and it has stuck!
This place became our home! We moved every 4-5 years when I was growing up, and through that time we built a cabin on it, put running water in (an outdoor privy is COLD in the winter) and we even have air conditioning! We spent a lot of time up there (up there because we mostly lived in southeast Iowa and this was in north central Iowa) as children. Dad would take two Sundays in a row off and we would have a ball.
Carol, Jim and I have spent a lot of time together there this week. We had thought we would clear Dad's excess stuff out of his house so that Priscilla wouldn't have to deal with it, but that became less important as her family came in and her friends spent a lot of time with her. We'll deal with it later. But, we DID begin spending a lot of time together sitting around and planning our future with Bell's Dell.
This afternoon, a couple from up the hill and around the bend stopped in to tell us how much they were going to miss Dad. Of course they asked what our intentions for the place were. When they found that we were going to keep it in the family, they were so excited! And they offered to help us whenever they could. Their son went fishing a lot with Dad. In fact, I suspect that Matt kept a pretty good eye on Dad. That old man was a danger to himself!
One of the reasons we are handling this death so well is that we knew dad would die fishing. Now, one of the reasons that we aren't handling it so well, is that we never expected this! Dad fished IN the river. He would walk that river up and down and all over the place. Our bank was too high to easily access the river. He had a rope that he pulled himself up and down on. He would set trot lines in the river and he had minnow traps set. Fishing was really important to him! Carol found out several times that he had fallen in the river and had actually floated downstream aways before he got a purchase and then walked back up the river and pulled himself out and up to the cabin. Yikes! Stupid old man. But, it was definitely his love. We figured that would be how he died.
I learned to fish with Dad. When he was younger, he got himself all suited up in waders and a fishing vest. I had my own pair - well, they were a cut off pair of his. I set trot lines with him. We would check them every 4 hours. He woke me up, I pulled on my very wet blue jeans, walked down to the river with him and held the buckets while he pulled the fish off and re-baited the hooks. We all have fishing stories with dad. Dad taught us to love and respect the river. We weren't very old when we were learning to swim. I may not be the master swimmer that Dad was, but I am not afraid of the water and I'm pretty certain there isn't much in that river that would kill me.
We sat around last night and tonight reminiscing and talking about the future. We have a lot of plans for the place. When we were younger, we brought numerous youth groups up for retreats, we had family retreats. All of our friends loved Bell's Dell as much as we did. Men couldn't wait to get up there with dad and wire the cabin, or put in plumbing. In fact, it was a group from one of his churches that built the main part of the cabin. They loved Dad and they loved Bell's Dell. He loved to share it with them.
There's not much there that is fancy. In fact, I don't think there is anything there that is fancy. Some of the walls aren't finished (dad didn't want to pay higher taxes), the bathroom is a pathetic excuse, but it does work and I'm thankful, the place smells like mildew, or in the winter like a fireplace. But, it is ours.
Mom wrote an amazing poem about the place - it tells the tales that we know: Ballad of Bell's Dell. However, I want to close with this one that she wrote:
Benediction
Long years I thought of it and now
I have bought my garden;
I saw it, desired it, asked for it,
And gave the man some money for it.
It is my garden now, isn't it?
My mind answers yes, my soul, no!
I cannot own what is universal;
I cannot lay claim to ageless change;
I cannot buy the memories of other footsteps
Treading the same winding paths.
My garden is a meadow, a hill,
A river, trees, gooseberries, thistles,
The spring-popped morel, the dainty columbine,
The delicate warm breeze of summer
Laughing gently at my folly.
It is bugs, myriad swarms of clinging,
Flying, buzzing insects, sticking to my
Sweaty skin as I labor to trim,
Control, govern the lush new growth
Of a wanton spring.
But I cannot own these things.
Does one entrap the wind, command
It to gently soothe a hot, dusty face?
Does one really own free-flying birds
And deer who call my garden home?
I may live here, too, at peace with
The wild things whose roots stretch far
Deeper into this black dirt than mine. I am
Merely a guest, content to
Borrow the beauty of my garden.
The trees will grow here long after
I die. They will watch others till
My garden. The over-arching boughs of
The leaning walnut on the hillside gives
Its benediction to my garden.
Margie Greenwood
Bell's Dell
May 28, 1969
Monday, April 30, 2007
A void
You MIGHT consider when you read that title that I am speaking of the void left in my heart due to dad's death. And, you're right - there is an incredible void. However ...
I am in INTERNET HELL! Dad only has AOL dialup at the house. Grrrreat. The other night I could get nowhere. I finally gave up. I was awfully glad to get home Sunday evening. I desperately needed to access the internet - and even more, I needed my diet mountain dew. Neither were offered in surplus to me here in Webster City, Iowa.
My husband thinks it is hilarious, because Iowa is one of the most 'wired' states in the union (per capita). There is so much fiber optic cable in this state, it is incredible. But, not to my dad's house. Max and Phil (Priscilla's son) went looking for a possible 'open' wireless network. And would you believe that in dad's neighborhood there was no such thing? In fact, there weren't even any encrypted networks! I went next door (because they were so gracious and would have offered us anything) and asked if they had high speed internet access. They didn't have ANY access. Yikes. How do people live like this? {giggle}
Priscilla's other son, Dave searched out a wireless hot spot in town and found a great little location. We're here now. 2nd Street Emporium. This is truly the greatest place I've ever been in! It's a small town 'fancy' restaurant. I'm eating a homemade tuna salad croissant. AND, typing my blog. Ahhh, life is good.
The family is starting to come to terms with the fact that we have a lot of decisions to make and a lot of stuff to clean up. Dad was the worst kind of packrat. We are finding so much junk that he saved. He took a lot of medication. He has saved every little paper bag from the drug store. Flattened them out and stored them in a box. We found a box labeled 'empty pill bottles'. Oh yes, that's what they were. In the garage we discovered several large boxes filled with empty ice cream (5 qt - Dad loved his ice cream) containers, potato salad containers. Several boxes of these! Every piece of mail that he ever received has been filed. Not for the last few years, but for MANY years back. He threw nothing away. Some of it is really cool stuff.
We found a 1956 tour guide to New York City - beautifully illustrated. There's another tour guide from 1955 - Washington, DC. There's a 1960's street map of Des Moines. (this is just the beginning folks!). So, as I'm purging the garbage, I'm loving the treasures. We have discovered copies of all of our grades through high school and college. There are multitudes of papers that he has collected over the years - showing his pride in his children. It's amazing. We are finding pictures and memorabilia from his life with our mom and even his life as a young man before he was married. What a treasure trove!
Dad labeled everything. He filed everything. He was obsessive about order and organization. I will try to take some photographs tomorrow of his 'cubbyhole'. It's a small space in the basement. His big ole desk, a 4-drawer file, 2 flat drawer files (stacked on top of each other) and bookshelves completely filled. Behind the chair is a small bathroom - shelves line the walls - we have discovered at least 50-75 pairs of glasses! All labeled as to when they were used and packed nicely away in zip lock bags. (Yes, please laugh out loud).
The best part? Behind this little bathroom is an entrance to a crawl space under the kitchen (split level home). In this crawl space is more junk. Dad spent many months during their first years in this home building shelves. They're simply planks sitting on top of cinder blocks. And they're filled with more junk. My grandmother died in the early 90s and we have discovered her cancelled checks in there! (Now ... laugh out loud!)
However there is beauty in all of this. As we have been looking for the financial information so that we can turn things over to Priscilla and her sons, Dad's organization and 'saving' skills are a blessing. We have everything at our fingertips. Honestly, we have more than we will ever need. I have all of his tax forms (plus all of his documentation that went to the CPA) for the last 20 years. But, there is enough there to find the data that we will need to ensure Priscilla is taken care of. That was his only concern.
Now, as I'm finding this information, I'm also finding all of the bulletins and newsletters from his many years in the pastorate. HAH! I'm finding notes and schedules for youth retreats (from the 70s) and everything else he did. There are indepth files on everything he ever researched or read. Do you want to know about cults? I have a lot of information. How about apologetics? Oh ... he has it.
Tomorrow we get serious about the purge and the saving. Carol bought a large box of trash bags ... we'll see what happens.
Thank you for the prayers and support. The other thing that I was glad to be home for - if even for just a few hours - was to be surrounded by people who loved me again. I'm in Priscilla's home and among her friends. These people adored my father and some of that rubs off on me, but not much. I discovered that it was difficult to grieve in those circumstances. I moved into 'grown-up' mode quite easily. But, when I got home and encountered people who felt for me and for my immediate family, the tears easily flowed.
Ok ... it's 8:30 - I have to drive out to the cabin for the night. My sis and brother are already there. We'll be up late tonight.
I am in INTERNET HELL! Dad only has AOL dialup at the house. Grrrreat. The other night I could get nowhere. I finally gave up. I was awfully glad to get home Sunday evening. I desperately needed to access the internet - and even more, I needed my diet mountain dew. Neither were offered in surplus to me here in Webster City, Iowa.
My husband thinks it is hilarious, because Iowa is one of the most 'wired' states in the union (per capita). There is so much fiber optic cable in this state, it is incredible. But, not to my dad's house. Max and Phil (Priscilla's son) went looking for a possible 'open' wireless network. And would you believe that in dad's neighborhood there was no such thing? In fact, there weren't even any encrypted networks! I went next door (because they were so gracious and would have offered us anything) and asked if they had high speed internet access. They didn't have ANY access. Yikes. How do people live like this? {giggle}
Priscilla's other son, Dave searched out a wireless hot spot in town and found a great little location. We're here now. 2nd Street Emporium. This is truly the greatest place I've ever been in! It's a small town 'fancy' restaurant. I'm eating a homemade tuna salad croissant. AND, typing my blog. Ahhh, life is good.
The family is starting to come to terms with the fact that we have a lot of decisions to make and a lot of stuff to clean up. Dad was the worst kind of packrat. We are finding so much junk that he saved. He took a lot of medication. He has saved every little paper bag from the drug store. Flattened them out and stored them in a box. We found a box labeled 'empty pill bottles'. Oh yes, that's what they were. In the garage we discovered several large boxes filled with empty ice cream (5 qt - Dad loved his ice cream) containers, potato salad containers. Several boxes of these! Every piece of mail that he ever received has been filed. Not for the last few years, but for MANY years back. He threw nothing away. Some of it is really cool stuff.
We found a 1956 tour guide to New York City - beautifully illustrated. There's another tour guide from 1955 - Washington, DC. There's a 1960's street map of Des Moines. (this is just the beginning folks!). So, as I'm purging the garbage, I'm loving the treasures. We have discovered copies of all of our grades through high school and college. There are multitudes of papers that he has collected over the years - showing his pride in his children. It's amazing. We are finding pictures and memorabilia from his life with our mom and even his life as a young man before he was married. What a treasure trove!
Dad labeled everything. He filed everything. He was obsessive about order and organization. I will try to take some photographs tomorrow of his 'cubbyhole'. It's a small space in the basement. His big ole desk, a 4-drawer file, 2 flat drawer files (stacked on top of each other) and bookshelves completely filled. Behind the chair is a small bathroom - shelves line the walls - we have discovered at least 50-75 pairs of glasses! All labeled as to when they were used and packed nicely away in zip lock bags. (Yes, please laugh out loud).
The best part? Behind this little bathroom is an entrance to a crawl space under the kitchen (split level home). In this crawl space is more junk. Dad spent many months during their first years in this home building shelves. They're simply planks sitting on top of cinder blocks. And they're filled with more junk. My grandmother died in the early 90s and we have discovered her cancelled checks in there! (Now ... laugh out loud!)
However there is beauty in all of this. As we have been looking for the financial information so that we can turn things over to Priscilla and her sons, Dad's organization and 'saving' skills are a blessing. We have everything at our fingertips. Honestly, we have more than we will ever need. I have all of his tax forms (plus all of his documentation that went to the CPA) for the last 20 years. But, there is enough there to find the data that we will need to ensure Priscilla is taken care of. That was his only concern.
Now, as I'm finding this information, I'm also finding all of the bulletins and newsletters from his many years in the pastorate. HAH! I'm finding notes and schedules for youth retreats (from the 70s) and everything else he did. There are indepth files on everything he ever researched or read. Do you want to know about cults? I have a lot of information. How about apologetics? Oh ... he has it.
Tomorrow we get serious about the purge and the saving. Carol bought a large box of trash bags ... we'll see what happens.
Thank you for the prayers and support. The other thing that I was glad to be home for - if even for just a few hours - was to be surrounded by people who loved me again. I'm in Priscilla's home and among her friends. These people adored my father and some of that rubs off on me, but not much. I discovered that it was difficult to grieve in those circumstances. I moved into 'grown-up' mode quite easily. But, when I got home and encountered people who felt for me and for my immediate family, the tears easily flowed.
Ok ... it's 8:30 - I have to drive out to the cabin for the night. My sis and brother are already there. We'll be up late tonight.
Sunday, April 29, 2007
A Fisher of Men
I'm home for a short period of time. Whew! I needed to have my own world around me for a bit. It's been a weird weekend and I'm not sure the week is going to get any less weird.
First, the gory details.
Dad (age 73) and his brother John (age 78) love to fish together. Generally their brother Art (age 80) comes up to Dad's cabin to spend a week with them and they all have a great time. Art had carpal tunnel surgery last week and he missed the trip. The two boys had spent the week at our cabin on the Boone River. There's no telephone, you have to drive a couple of miles to get high enough for a cell phone to work, so they hide out and have fun.
Thursday evening they were to meet Priscilla (Dad's second wife) for dinner at 5:30. They would call her when they were coming in to town (Webster City, Iowa). They didn't call, but remember, these are avid fishermen ... and if the fishin's good ... However, by 8:00, she got a little concerned and drove out to the cabin. They weren't there and she waited awhile. Then, she came back into town, called some friends and they all went back to wait. The next morning, she still hadn't heard from them - drove back to the cabin and they hadn't shown up. She called 911 and the search began.
About 2:30 on Friday, the sheriff discovered Uncle John's truck and boat trailer at Brushy Creek - a reservoir lake. They let Priscilla know this and the prayers began. By 4:30 or so, they had discovered the bodies. We began getting phone calls and information - much of it quite sketchy.
So ... they went over a spillway ... 150 feet down at a 60 degree angle. The water was quite high because of the immense amount of rain that central Iowa has been receiving, and the current was quite fast.
A Ranger discovered Dad's body in the boat, He actually tied it to the steering wheel so that it wouldn't float away, and went looking for Uncle John. Uncle John had traveled (with a bad back and terrible knees) up a very steep embankment to look for help.
More gory details: Coroner's report
There was an autopsy because of the nature of the accident. Dad had a bad blow to the head which knocked him out and he then drowned. Uncle John died from bleeding in the heart - probably a heart attack. He made it up the embankment, walked for about 200 yards and collapsed.
John, Jr. came up today with his family and sister, Joy. They picked up the truck and trailer and then went to Brushy Creek. My brother, Jim was with them and walked the path that John took. For younger men, the accident would have absolutely been survivable. But, Dad was 73, weakened from Parkinson's Disease, more than likely bounced around the boat like a rubber ball. Uncle John walked through 47 degree water, was shocked from the accident and Dad's death, is 78 years old and could not hold up under the strain. It's simply a tragedy.
Ahhh ... the joy.
But, in all of this, and I've said it before, these men were doing what they loved and they were together having fun as brothers. A friend told me today that she had received an email from dad several weeks ago: "Lord ... I'll give up 10 years of my life, if I don't have to die in a nursing home." That scared him more than anything! He loved being outdoors. He loved the water. He loved fishing. He loved his family. He hated being weak and he would have hated having people care for him 24/7. God answered a prayer that he had prayed daily.
My dad's life
People loved my dad. You might think I'm overstating or making more of him than I should. I'm not. He was a very unique person. When he met you, Dad made sure that you knew he had all the time in the world to get to know you. He expended himself on you. And ... he never forgot you.
He was generous. Oh my, he was generous ... with his time, his love, his knowledge, his money. We have discovered that he donated to at least 20 different charities as well as tithed to his church. But, every one of his neighbors came over this weekend. Why? Because Dad gave of himself to them. Not as much as he got weaker, but when he moved into that neighborhood in 1995, he began caring for these people. One neighbor was concerned that a 'preacher' was moving in next door and wouldn't be any fun. She came over yesterday with soup, because she loved him so much.
He used to get up very early - before anyone else was stirring and fire up the snowblower after a snowstorm. Now, he not only plowed the sidewalks, but would clean the driveways of all of his neighbors before they were up. Not once or twice, but as often as he could. He planted tomatoes and all of the neighbors knew that when he was harvesting them, he would show up at their door with a box full for them. Not one or two tomatoes, but a dozen or so - or as many as they could use.
His bible study group adores him, the youth in the church fell in love with him, though he stopped leading youth groups in 1984. He loved having the kids out to the cabin for retreats or afternoons. He would spend days cleaning up and preparing for them out there. And now? The kids are begging to be allowed to go out and help us by mowing and cleaning up the meadows. They know how much time he spent doing that work.
All of this was happening in a church that he didn't even pastor ... but, in reality ... he pastored every person he ever came in contact with.
I've heard from cousins and friends from former churches. They're destroyed. Dad's first altar call in Sigourney saved a woman's life - she was headed down a dark path of destruction and found her way to the altar when Dad listened to God's voice telling him to just open the altar. A friend of Carol's called to tell her that Dad changed her life ... in confirmation. He taught her about the love of God. And you know what? What he taught, he lived. A cousin called me today to tell me another story about Dad. The stories are innumerable. This man touched lives I will never know about.
Fishing was one of Dad's greatest joys. You know, he never went evangelizing or 'fishing' for men. But, that's what he was ... by the very nature of his being. If you knew him, before long, you knew God. Dad would ensure your entrance into the kingdom and you might not even know what hit you. Other times, he wasn't afraid to hit you over the head with that fishing pole because he didn't want to lose you in that kingdom.
There is so much to tell about this man. I have some hilarious stories from this last weekend as I've been going through his stuff. But, I'll save that for another post.
I look forward to the stories from Dad's friends, family and parishioners. I know what they'll tell me, though. Their lives have been changed for the better by this man. He rescued them from the pit of hell by telling them about Jesus, or he simply shared everything he had with them. All of it, though, pointed to the Lord that he loved.
You see, I know that as he was bouncing around and before he was hit on the head, the last words of my father were, "Thank you Jesus." Those were the last words before he fell asleep and the first words when he woke up.
First, the gory details.
Dad (age 73) and his brother John (age 78) love to fish together. Generally their brother Art (age 80) comes up to Dad's cabin to spend a week with them and they all have a great time. Art had carpal tunnel surgery last week and he missed the trip. The two boys had spent the week at our cabin on the Boone River. There's no telephone, you have to drive a couple of miles to get high enough for a cell phone to work, so they hide out and have fun.
Thursday evening they were to meet Priscilla (Dad's second wife) for dinner at 5:30. They would call her when they were coming in to town (Webster City, Iowa). They didn't call, but remember, these are avid fishermen ... and if the fishin's good ... However, by 8:00, she got a little concerned and drove out to the cabin. They weren't there and she waited awhile. Then, she came back into town, called some friends and they all went back to wait. The next morning, she still hadn't heard from them - drove back to the cabin and they hadn't shown up. She called 911 and the search began.
About 2:30 on Friday, the sheriff discovered Uncle John's truck and boat trailer at Brushy Creek - a reservoir lake. They let Priscilla know this and the prayers began. By 4:30 or so, they had discovered the bodies. We began getting phone calls and information - much of it quite sketchy.
So ... they went over a spillway ... 150 feet down at a 60 degree angle. The water was quite high because of the immense amount of rain that central Iowa has been receiving, and the current was quite fast.
A Ranger discovered Dad's body in the boat, He actually tied it to the steering wheel so that it wouldn't float away, and went looking for Uncle John. Uncle John had traveled (with a bad back and terrible knees) up a very steep embankment to look for help.
More gory details: Coroner's report
There was an autopsy because of the nature of the accident. Dad had a bad blow to the head which knocked him out and he then drowned. Uncle John died from bleeding in the heart - probably a heart attack. He made it up the embankment, walked for about 200 yards and collapsed.
John, Jr. came up today with his family and sister, Joy. They picked up the truck and trailer and then went to Brushy Creek. My brother, Jim was with them and walked the path that John took. For younger men, the accident would have absolutely been survivable. But, Dad was 73, weakened from Parkinson's Disease, more than likely bounced around the boat like a rubber ball. Uncle John walked through 47 degree water, was shocked from the accident and Dad's death, is 78 years old and could not hold up under the strain. It's simply a tragedy.
Ahhh ... the joy.
But, in all of this, and I've said it before, these men were doing what they loved and they were together having fun as brothers. A friend told me today that she had received an email from dad several weeks ago: "Lord ... I'll give up 10 years of my life, if I don't have to die in a nursing home." That scared him more than anything! He loved being outdoors. He loved the water. He loved fishing. He loved his family. He hated being weak and he would have hated having people care for him 24/7. God answered a prayer that he had prayed daily.
My dad's life
People loved my dad. You might think I'm overstating or making more of him than I should. I'm not. He was a very unique person. When he met you, Dad made sure that you knew he had all the time in the world to get to know you. He expended himself on you. And ... he never forgot you.
He was generous. Oh my, he was generous ... with his time, his love, his knowledge, his money. We have discovered that he donated to at least 20 different charities as well as tithed to his church. But, every one of his neighbors came over this weekend. Why? Because Dad gave of himself to them. Not as much as he got weaker, but when he moved into that neighborhood in 1995, he began caring for these people. One neighbor was concerned that a 'preacher' was moving in next door and wouldn't be any fun. She came over yesterday with soup, because she loved him so much.
He used to get up very early - before anyone else was stirring and fire up the snowblower after a snowstorm. Now, he not only plowed the sidewalks, but would clean the driveways of all of his neighbors before they were up. Not once or twice, but as often as he could. He planted tomatoes and all of the neighbors knew that when he was harvesting them, he would show up at their door with a box full for them. Not one or two tomatoes, but a dozen or so - or as many as they could use.
His bible study group adores him, the youth in the church fell in love with him, though he stopped leading youth groups in 1984. He loved having the kids out to the cabin for retreats or afternoons. He would spend days cleaning up and preparing for them out there. And now? The kids are begging to be allowed to go out and help us by mowing and cleaning up the meadows. They know how much time he spent doing that work.
All of this was happening in a church that he didn't even pastor ... but, in reality ... he pastored every person he ever came in contact with.
I've heard from cousins and friends from former churches. They're destroyed. Dad's first altar call in Sigourney saved a woman's life - she was headed down a dark path of destruction and found her way to the altar when Dad listened to God's voice telling him to just open the altar. A friend of Carol's called to tell her that Dad changed her life ... in confirmation. He taught her about the love of God. And you know what? What he taught, he lived. A cousin called me today to tell me another story about Dad. The stories are innumerable. This man touched lives I will never know about.
Fishing was one of Dad's greatest joys. You know, he never went evangelizing or 'fishing' for men. But, that's what he was ... by the very nature of his being. If you knew him, before long, you knew God. Dad would ensure your entrance into the kingdom and you might not even know what hit you. Other times, he wasn't afraid to hit you over the head with that fishing pole because he didn't want to lose you in that kingdom.
There is so much to tell about this man. I have some hilarious stories from this last weekend as I've been going through his stuff. But, I'll save that for another post.
I look forward to the stories from Dad's friends, family and parishioners. I know what they'll tell me, though. Their lives have been changed for the better by this man. He rescued them from the pit of hell by telling them about Jesus, or he simply shared everything he had with them. All of it, though, pointed to the Lord that he loved.
You see, I know that as he was bouncing around and before he was hit on the head, the last words of my father were, "Thank you Jesus." Those were the last words before he fell asleep and the first words when he woke up.
Friday, April 27, 2007
My father is gone...
My father died today. I'm heading out to deal with his wife and all of the things that need to be handled. He and his brother, John were on a lake (Brushy Creek) near Webster City fishing yesterday. They didn't comprehend the depth of the water and went over a spillway. I don't have all of the details, but somehow Uncle John tied my father (who had Parkinson's Disease) to the steering wheel and took off into the woods to go get help. He made it about 100 yards, passed out and died from exposure. They found them this afternoon.
Dad's in heaven. I know that ... and I'm great with that. It's going to be hard - people loved my father and their pain is going to continually wash over me. But, I loved my dad and I'm thankful for his life. Fishing was his greatest joy.
Please keep his wife, Priscilla in your prayers. My sister, Carol, my brother Jim and I will be there to care for her as much as we can. She has cared for him for the last 20 years as his Parkinson's progressed and this is going to be difficult for her. We do covet prayers ... and thank you.
Dad's in heaven. I know that ... and I'm great with that. It's going to be hard - people loved my father and their pain is going to continually wash over me. But, I loved my dad and I'm thankful for his life. Fishing was his greatest joy.
Please keep his wife, Priscilla in your prayers. My sister, Carol, my brother Jim and I will be there to care for her as much as we can. She has cared for him for the last 20 years as his Parkinson's progressed and this is going to be difficult for her. We do covet prayers ... and thank you.
Sunday, April 22, 2007
Healing
This has been an interesting day. It's been a good day. It doesn't take much for me to be reminded of God's power and glory and I'm thankful for all of those reminders.
I went to Brandon Purintun's Confirmation this morning. I could go on and on about how terrific it was that this young man was being confirmed into the church, but this blog is about me, right? [hehe]. No really ... this time it is about me. Just another in a long list of learning experiences that I have to go through.
The spectacular thing about this Confirmation was that it was at Gretna UMC. For those of you who know me well, you know that when I left that church in 2002 it was extremely painful. I had (have) a lot of friends there, but circumstances blew my world apart and I had to leave. A terrible relationship with an explosive pastor and a poor start to a relationship with another pastor made it difficult to maintain any type of personal ministry. So, I was gone.
After some time to heal, I ended up at Faith-Westwood. God is good. All the time.
Last summer, I took Soul Seekers (FW's high school choir) back to Gretna UMC for a pre-tour concert. Brandon's dad, Doug, mentioned that hell must have finally frozen over for me to be back in that place. Funny as it was, while hell didn't freeze, my heart was beginning to thaw. I had managed to build up a lot of protective walls around my heart regarding that place. A few friends were able to keep communicating with me, but I was gone. I had spent every single Sunday leaving that church in tears. My husband was so angry that I kept returning for more pain, he could barely function when we had to go out there. When we left, we left for good. No more pain, no more anger.
So, several months ago, Amy asked if I would come out for Brandon's Confirmation. There was no hesitation. Of course I would! I'd do anything for those kids. And it wasn't about me. It was about being a part of Brandon's family. So, I set it all aside, knowing that I had plenty of friends and Amy's family would be all around me. No big deal.
I drove in a driving rainstorm, got out of the car with rain pouring down on me. I just laughed. Of course it was pouring! Why not? If it had been a month ago, it would have been a blizzard. My relationship with that church was stormy. I think God was laughing with me.
I walked in and began seeing people that I recognized. It's been nearly 5 years, but not much has changed. I saw Amy's family and sat down in a pew with her daughter Rachael, who loves me because I'm Aunt Diane. Whew! I was in with relatively little agony. I relaxed and began looking around. People smiled at me, some old friends stopped up to chat with me, I got a few hugs and a few strange looks as others tried to remember why they knew me!
Worship began. As it came time for the greeting, Pastor Mark, who knows me a little bit, came rushing down the aisle to hug and welcome me. That was it! I was fine! All of the trouble that had occurred between me and a previous pastor was erased by that single hug. I was welcome in the church that had practically begged me to leave (not necessarily true, but my feelings were pretty raw when I did leave). Worship was terrific. I was able to connect with God in a place that had laid me out. God never left - I did. The Confirmation ceremony was beautiful.
After worship, I encountered a lot more people - all of whom were glad to see me back. Ok ... not all of them. There were a few that looked at me to figure out who I was, and when the realization hit them, they were stuck. They had already made eye contact and had to say 'hello'. I just giggled. I have enough 'evil' in my heart, that I enjoyed that a lot. Others completely ignored me. That made me giggle as well.
The best part? I got to meet some of the new people that are moving and shaking that church. How exciting! These are fabulous people who have taken on God's call to fill the church with His people, whether they are healthy or broken. I can build relationships with new friends, reconnect with old friends and be thankful for a period of time in my life that was a time of growth.
God's grace and mercy is always at work ... in His church and in the lives of His people. I'm thankful to be in His grace.
I went to Brandon Purintun's Confirmation this morning. I could go on and on about how terrific it was that this young man was being confirmed into the church, but this blog is about me, right? [hehe]. No really ... this time it is about me. Just another in a long list of learning experiences that I have to go through.
The spectacular thing about this Confirmation was that it was at Gretna UMC. For those of you who know me well, you know that when I left that church in 2002 it was extremely painful. I had (have) a lot of friends there, but circumstances blew my world apart and I had to leave. A terrible relationship with an explosive pastor and a poor start to a relationship with another pastor made it difficult to maintain any type of personal ministry. So, I was gone.
After some time to heal, I ended up at Faith-Westwood. God is good. All the time.
Last summer, I took Soul Seekers (FW's high school choir) back to Gretna UMC for a pre-tour concert. Brandon's dad, Doug, mentioned that hell must have finally frozen over for me to be back in that place. Funny as it was, while hell didn't freeze, my heart was beginning to thaw. I had managed to build up a lot of protective walls around my heart regarding that place. A few friends were able to keep communicating with me, but I was gone. I had spent every single Sunday leaving that church in tears. My husband was so angry that I kept returning for more pain, he could barely function when we had to go out there. When we left, we left for good. No more pain, no more anger.
So, several months ago, Amy asked if I would come out for Brandon's Confirmation. There was no hesitation. Of course I would! I'd do anything for those kids. And it wasn't about me. It was about being a part of Brandon's family. So, I set it all aside, knowing that I had plenty of friends and Amy's family would be all around me. No big deal.
I drove in a driving rainstorm, got out of the car with rain pouring down on me. I just laughed. Of course it was pouring! Why not? If it had been a month ago, it would have been a blizzard. My relationship with that church was stormy. I think God was laughing with me.
I walked in and began seeing people that I recognized. It's been nearly 5 years, but not much has changed. I saw Amy's family and sat down in a pew with her daughter Rachael, who loves me because I'm Aunt Diane. Whew! I was in with relatively little agony. I relaxed and began looking around. People smiled at me, some old friends stopped up to chat with me, I got a few hugs and a few strange looks as others tried to remember why they knew me!
Worship began. As it came time for the greeting, Pastor Mark, who knows me a little bit, came rushing down the aisle to hug and welcome me. That was it! I was fine! All of the trouble that had occurred between me and a previous pastor was erased by that single hug. I was welcome in the church that had practically begged me to leave (not necessarily true, but my feelings were pretty raw when I did leave). Worship was terrific. I was able to connect with God in a place that had laid me out. God never left - I did. The Confirmation ceremony was beautiful.
After worship, I encountered a lot more people - all of whom were glad to see me back. Ok ... not all of them. There were a few that looked at me to figure out who I was, and when the realization hit them, they were stuck. They had already made eye contact and had to say 'hello'. I just giggled. I have enough 'evil' in my heart, that I enjoyed that a lot. Others completely ignored me. That made me giggle as well.
The best part? I got to meet some of the new people that are moving and shaking that church. How exciting! These are fabulous people who have taken on God's call to fill the church with His people, whether they are healthy or broken. I can build relationships with new friends, reconnect with old friends and be thankful for a period of time in my life that was a time of growth.
God's grace and mercy is always at work ... in His church and in the lives of His people. I'm thankful to be in His grace.
Saturday, April 21, 2007
Words
Words are ephemeral. Words can be filled with meaning. Words can be meaningless. Words can hurt and destroy or words can build up and encourage. There's a lot of scripture given to discussing the proper use of words.
Have you ever taken the time to read any of the spam that comes through containing random words and phrases strung together. It's hilarious! Every once in awhile, I'll take a moment to read through one of them to see what comes up.
'yes; come tomorrow. but if i can't, don't grieve, rose. i'm no loss to anyone, and perhaps thing. then the sight of the bicycle boy struggling with jack, who on all-fours this time, with a new sort of tail and long ears. a 'yes; come tomorrow 'yes; come tomorrow this and that together, and taking various trifles into the account, and flowers for her nose. a stray sunbeam; the baby voice telling sweet, unintelligible stories a stray sunbeam; the baby voice telling sweet, unintelligible stories. the needs, virtues, and failings of those nearest us. love should friends shy little beth had made. and cut the bread and butter interests almost entirely,
Those words make absolutely no sense, but they want to! I want them to! So, I read them and try to create an interpretation in my mind. I try to force it to make sense. But, alas, I'm not sure who the bicycle boy with a new sort of tail and long ears might be. He's on all fours ... struggling with a jack. No ... try as I might, it makes no sense.
I wonder about how my words sound to God. Fortunately, God knows my heart well enough to listen past my words. When I talk to God I try to actually hold a conversation with Him. but, that requires more than words from me. It requires me to interpret my surroundings and concentrate on what is coing out of my mouth and frommy heart.
I listen to people pray aloud. I cringe. They aren't holding a conversation with God. They are simply presenting a litany of their thoughts before Him. There was an excellent article in Christianity Today "Father Weejus". Have you ever caught yourself saying those words to God? "Father, we just gather together to bring these needs before you. Father, we just believe that You can make all our dreams come true and heal our bodies and our souls ... " Oh, it goes on and on.
But, even as I write these words, I realize that God is listening to their hearts as well as their words. The only one being truly offended by this is probably me.
Prayer is a privilege. It is also something we take for granted. God gave us access to the throne, to the altar in the throneroom through our prayers. When we lift them before God as true cries from the heart, when we offer our adoration, praise and thanksgiving to God, when we cause our words to actually engage the Creator of the Universe rather than toss banter at Him because we like the sound of our own voice ... words become more than we can imagine.
God created the Word! He says "I am the Alpha and the Omega." He is the first letter of the alphabet, the last letter of the alphabet and every single letter in between. The Word was made flesh in Jesus Christ. God spoke creation into existence - not by waving a magic wand, but by speaking WORDS! God anointed Jesus with words. God gave us words in the form of the scriptures so that we could understand His heart.
What words will I speak today? How will I use the language that is a gift from God? How will I speak to Him and when will I listen for the words that come from Him?
Words are an interesting thing to consider.
Have you ever taken the time to read any of the spam that comes through containing random words and phrases strung together. It's hilarious! Every once in awhile, I'll take a moment to read through one of them to see what comes up.
'yes; come tomorrow. but if i can't, don't grieve, rose. i'm no loss to anyone, and perhaps thing. then the sight of the bicycle boy struggling with jack, who on all-fours this time, with a new sort of tail and long ears. a 'yes; come tomorrow 'yes; come tomorrow this and that together, and taking various trifles into the account, and flowers for her nose. a stray sunbeam; the baby voice telling sweet, unintelligible stories a stray sunbeam; the baby voice telling sweet, unintelligible stories. the needs, virtues, and failings of those nearest us. love should friends shy little beth had made. and cut the bread and butter interests almost entirely,
Those words make absolutely no sense, but they want to! I want them to! So, I read them and try to create an interpretation in my mind. I try to force it to make sense. But, alas, I'm not sure who the bicycle boy with a new sort of tail and long ears might be. He's on all fours ... struggling with a jack. No ... try as I might, it makes no sense.
I wonder about how my words sound to God. Fortunately, God knows my heart well enough to listen past my words. When I talk to God I try to actually hold a conversation with Him. but, that requires more than words from me. It requires me to interpret my surroundings and concentrate on what is coing out of my mouth and frommy heart.
I listen to people pray aloud. I cringe. They aren't holding a conversation with God. They are simply presenting a litany of their thoughts before Him. There was an excellent article in Christianity Today "Father Weejus". Have you ever caught yourself saying those words to God? "Father, we just gather together to bring these needs before you. Father, we just believe that You can make all our dreams come true and heal our bodies and our souls ... " Oh, it goes on and on.
But, even as I write these words, I realize that God is listening to their hearts as well as their words. The only one being truly offended by this is probably me.
Prayer is a privilege. It is also something we take for granted. God gave us access to the throne, to the altar in the throneroom through our prayers. When we lift them before God as true cries from the heart, when we offer our adoration, praise and thanksgiving to God, when we cause our words to actually engage the Creator of the Universe rather than toss banter at Him because we like the sound of our own voice ... words become more than we can imagine.
God created the Word! He says "I am the Alpha and the Omega." He is the first letter of the alphabet, the last letter of the alphabet and every single letter in between. The Word was made flesh in Jesus Christ. God spoke creation into existence - not by waving a magic wand, but by speaking WORDS! God anointed Jesus with words. God gave us words in the form of the scriptures so that we could understand His heart.
What words will I speak today? How will I use the language that is a gift from God? How will I speak to Him and when will I listen for the words that come from Him?
Words are an interesting thing to consider.
My brain is rattling around
I have a million things I want to say today and when this happens to me, I generally become incomprehensible. You see, it's Saturday. The entire day is mine. I have no commitments, I have nothing that is on the schedule. I don't think that has happened in many months. I finished writing the Revelation study last week, so I don't have that pressing in the back of my mind.
This means that my brain is free to roam around and consider so many other ideas. Now, the other part of my reality is that my house is in disastrous shape. If you think I'm overstating, trust me, I'm not. So, as my brain is flying in a million different directions, I am also trying to struggle with how to regain control of my living space. And what am I doing right now? Sitting at my desk with my fingers on a keyboard.
My father would have something to say about that. He was never one for 'free time'. If we were simply sitting in a room that he entered, he would inquire as to what else we could be doing. If we were sitting in that same room with a book in our lap, we were safe. Reading was more than acceptable. Anything that was productive was acceptable, but laziness and frittering away time never was.
My mother on the other hand, was the exact opposite. She fully understood that 'laziness' was not something to be taken for granted. That sitting around with nothing occupying your time allowed the mind to roam and to explore. That allowed a person to be creative. To create something from nothing was her greatest joy. She was a sculptor, a potter, a painter, an author, a poet, a speaker, she even tried to write music. When dad would accuse her of being lazy, she would later produce an incredible piece of art.
They never really 'got' each other in this area. But, they loved each other through all of it. My sister is a lot like my father. She does not like to sit around. Her time is highly scheduled and she always feels like she needs to be doing something productive.
I feel like the dichotomy is always pressing at me. I keep myself very busy. I can be extremely 'task-oriented'. When a task is set before me, I accomplish it as quickly as possible so that it no longer is something in my consideration. I don't have to think about it anymore. Yet, my mind yearns for freedom. Whenever I can sit still without having to do anything, I grab the moment. I wish I had more.
Which brings me to today.
I have filled my last few months with many things outside the home. Max's inability to walk has caused us to revamp our lives. I don't get home in the evening most nights until 9:00 at the earliest - and we always spend a couple of hours wrapped up in conversation so that we can stay connected. When I am home early, we generally go out to eat with friends, and again, we come home very late. It's not an excuse, but it is the reason that my house is in terrible shape. I desperately need to de-trash the place, clean the kitchen, vacuum, clear the dining room table, go to the grocery store, the dry cleaners, the drug store, and I need to buy another trash can - people steal our trash container on a regular basis. It's obvious that they have no preference on design - they take them all!
But, my brain is moving like crazy and I want nothing more than to take a notebook and a few books, get in the car and drive away to a quiet place.
The sink is filled with hot water and dirty dishes, there is a trash bag beside me - nearly full. I've started the 'task' part of the day. You could tell me that I could do all of the tasks this morning and be done with them and then I would be free to allow my brain to roam. You see ... you're right ... but, that's how my father lived. And he never wrote a book, or painted a picture. He never wrote a song or sculpted a bust of his children. He was an amazing provider, but he was driven to work.
I don't know yet how I'm going to handle today.
This means that my brain is free to roam around and consider so many other ideas. Now, the other part of my reality is that my house is in disastrous shape. If you think I'm overstating, trust me, I'm not. So, as my brain is flying in a million different directions, I am also trying to struggle with how to regain control of my living space. And what am I doing right now? Sitting at my desk with my fingers on a keyboard.
My father would have something to say about that. He was never one for 'free time'. If we were simply sitting in a room that he entered, he would inquire as to what else we could be doing. If we were sitting in that same room with a book in our lap, we were safe. Reading was more than acceptable. Anything that was productive was acceptable, but laziness and frittering away time never was.
My mother on the other hand, was the exact opposite. She fully understood that 'laziness' was not something to be taken for granted. That sitting around with nothing occupying your time allowed the mind to roam and to explore. That allowed a person to be creative. To create something from nothing was her greatest joy. She was a sculptor, a potter, a painter, an author, a poet, a speaker, she even tried to write music. When dad would accuse her of being lazy, she would later produce an incredible piece of art.
They never really 'got' each other in this area. But, they loved each other through all of it. My sister is a lot like my father. She does not like to sit around. Her time is highly scheduled and she always feels like she needs to be doing something productive.
I feel like the dichotomy is always pressing at me. I keep myself very busy. I can be extremely 'task-oriented'. When a task is set before me, I accomplish it as quickly as possible so that it no longer is something in my consideration. I don't have to think about it anymore. Yet, my mind yearns for freedom. Whenever I can sit still without having to do anything, I grab the moment. I wish I had more.
Which brings me to today.
I have filled my last few months with many things outside the home. Max's inability to walk has caused us to revamp our lives. I don't get home in the evening most nights until 9:00 at the earliest - and we always spend a couple of hours wrapped up in conversation so that we can stay connected. When I am home early, we generally go out to eat with friends, and again, we come home very late. It's not an excuse, but it is the reason that my house is in terrible shape. I desperately need to de-trash the place, clean the kitchen, vacuum, clear the dining room table, go to the grocery store, the dry cleaners, the drug store, and I need to buy another trash can - people steal our trash container on a regular basis. It's obvious that they have no preference on design - they take them all!
But, my brain is moving like crazy and I want nothing more than to take a notebook and a few books, get in the car and drive away to a quiet place.
The sink is filled with hot water and dirty dishes, there is a trash bag beside me - nearly full. I've started the 'task' part of the day. You could tell me that I could do all of the tasks this morning and be done with them and then I would be free to allow my brain to roam. You see ... you're right ... but, that's how my father lived. And he never wrote a book, or painted a picture. He never wrote a song or sculpted a bust of his children. He was an amazing provider, but he was driven to work.
I don't know yet how I'm going to handle today.
Monday, April 16, 2007
A day in the life ...
You know, yesterday I was praying (well, I was chatting it up with God) about the incredible pain in the world and the fact that so many of his children choose the way of pain and suffering for no good reason.
I've been preparing a lesson on holiness. To be 'set apart', to be different from the crowd. John Wesley set the goal before us of sanctification - perfection. Some of the things that signify a 'sanctified' person: "no mixture of any contrary affections; all is peace and harmony. After being filled with love, there is no more interruption of it than of the beating of the heart."
Some of the things that signify one who is far from Christian perfection / holiness / sanctification: (from Wesley)
"All his holiness is mixed. He was humble, but not entirely; his humility was mixed with pride; he was meek, but his meekness was frequently interrupted by anger, or some uneasy or turbulent passion. His love of God was frequently damped by the love of some creature; the love o fhis neighbor by evil surmising, or some thought, if not temper, contrary to love. His will was not wholly melted down into the will of God: now and then nature rebelled, and he could not clearly say, 'Lord, not as I will, but as Thou wilt.'"
This stuff really hit home today as I listened to the events unfolding at Virginia Tech. The shooter is one more individual that we as Christians failed to reach. We are so concerned with social justice and legislating morality. We are so worried about what people think of us and our families and our children. We spend so much time wrapped up in the pettiness of what a worship service looks like or how many dollars were spent on new choir robes or candles. All of these things help us avoid looking the world's true needs. We aren't telling people about the love of Jesus Christ.
This love is the one thing that can sanctify each human being. Pure, sacrificial love. A love that God sent down from heaven to rescue each of us. We are so self-centered and afraid - that we forget the purpose of living a Christian life - to perpetuate that life in others.
We lost one today. And from that loss, families of 32 others are feeling extreme pain and sorrow. If you believe that you are called by God to be more than a blip on the timeline of eternity, you have to believe that your pursuit of holiness leads you to share this love of Jesus with others. We can't hide it anymore! We can't be afraid that people will laugh at us or that they will quit talking to us.
Are you set apart? Is there nothing but love for God in your heart? I would love for you to be able to say this is true, but I know better. I live the same way as you do. I'm a terrible sinner and I fail at being a good transmitter of God's love. Even when I think that I'm doing well, I know that I'm failing.
Today, as you pray for the families and friends of those lost at Virginia Tech, please remember that you have a responsibility to the world as well. It might be that as you intercede in someone's life, you can save that life and be assured of their salvation. Don't let that pass you by!
I've been preparing a lesson on holiness. To be 'set apart', to be different from the crowd. John Wesley set the goal before us of sanctification - perfection. Some of the things that signify a 'sanctified' person: "no mixture of any contrary affections; all is peace and harmony. After being filled with love, there is no more interruption of it than of the beating of the heart."
Some of the things that signify one who is far from Christian perfection / holiness / sanctification: (from Wesley)
"All his holiness is mixed. He was humble, but not entirely; his humility was mixed with pride; he was meek, but his meekness was frequently interrupted by anger, or some uneasy or turbulent passion. His love of God was frequently damped by the love of some creature; the love o fhis neighbor by evil surmising, or some thought, if not temper, contrary to love. His will was not wholly melted down into the will of God: now and then nature rebelled, and he could not clearly say, 'Lord, not as I will, but as Thou wilt.'"
This stuff really hit home today as I listened to the events unfolding at Virginia Tech. The shooter is one more individual that we as Christians failed to reach. We are so concerned with social justice and legislating morality. We are so worried about what people think of us and our families and our children. We spend so much time wrapped up in the pettiness of what a worship service looks like or how many dollars were spent on new choir robes or candles. All of these things help us avoid looking the world's true needs. We aren't telling people about the love of Jesus Christ.
This love is the one thing that can sanctify each human being. Pure, sacrificial love. A love that God sent down from heaven to rescue each of us. We are so self-centered and afraid - that we forget the purpose of living a Christian life - to perpetuate that life in others.
We lost one today. And from that loss, families of 32 others are feeling extreme pain and sorrow. If you believe that you are called by God to be more than a blip on the timeline of eternity, you have to believe that your pursuit of holiness leads you to share this love of Jesus with others. We can't hide it anymore! We can't be afraid that people will laugh at us or that they will quit talking to us.
Are you set apart? Is there nothing but love for God in your heart? I would love for you to be able to say this is true, but I know better. I live the same way as you do. I'm a terrible sinner and I fail at being a good transmitter of God's love. Even when I think that I'm doing well, I know that I'm failing.
Today, as you pray for the families and friends of those lost at Virginia Tech, please remember that you have a responsibility to the world as well. It might be that as you intercede in someone's life, you can save that life and be assured of their salvation. Don't let that pass you by!
Saturday, April 14, 2007
Change
That word has come up more than I like this last week. But, for once, the change is not focused on me. However, it seems like an inordinate amount of my friends are facing some severe changes in their lives. I'm glad that I faced mine down last fall and winter. It seems like I need to be a bit more stable as these friends are dealing with all of their stuff.
1. A friend in Florida is trying to decipher God's plan for her life as her son has been told he can no longer attend school where he is because they no longer reside in that county. She knows that she wants to move to a completely different city, but is the timing right for that? Only God knows.
2. A friend in Lincoln just lost a position with a major Christian company. She knows that God has been calling her away from that position for quite some time, but what is next? Will the job that she has been praying about for nearly 1 year finally fall into place? Or is God calling her to be somewhere else.
3. A friend in Omaha is facing a complete change in her marriage. She will face singleness again and in the midst of that change will be dealing with much ugliness and pain. She is looking for a new job as well, but the solidity of that has yet to come into her life. What is God doing with her life?
4. My brother has 4 children and is trying to discern God's plan as these kids begin planning for major changes in their lives. His eldest son took the ACTs today, is at his first Prom tonight and begins his senior year in high school this fall ... changes are going to take place. Matt is also facing heart surgery this summer to repair a hole. His youngest daughter is adopted, has severe ramifications from fetal alcohol syndrome and they are trying to figure out what to do next with her - how all of this will impact her and the family.
5. Much less important in the lives of the world, but it was hilarious to me was a change that we are trying to implement in my workplace. There are those who resist any type of change and react quite negatively when faced with it. Verbal attacks and stalling are set into motion when change begins to happen.
6. Max has to begin making some decisions in the last period of his ankle recuperation as he looks for a new job. What does God have planned for him ... and for us?
7. A friend in Omaha with cancer has been dealing with life changes as she left the job that she loves and faces an uphill battle with this recurrence.
8. The staff at church is faced with the idea of a new director coming in that will be in supervision over all of us. While exciting, the concern of not knowing who it is or how they will handle that supervision is still there.
Let's just say that my prayers have been focused on 'change' this last week. I can't believe the incredible flux that my friends, family and myself have been in.
This afternoon Max and I were discussing the 'Christian world-view' and how we can not imagine life without the comfort of knowing that there is a God who is above all of the stress that we live with. We can rely on this God and can be comfortable in the fact that our Creator is greater than we are and knows where we are going and what will be happening to us.
How do you face getting up in the morning without that assurance? I can not imagine.
I'm so thankful for a God who does not change. With all of the craziness that I face, my God remains rock solid.
This is an amazing passage from the Psalms - Psalm 102:25-27
"In the beginning you laid the foundations of the earth, and the heavens are the work of your hands. They will perish, but you remain; they will all wear out like a garment. Like clothing you will change them and they will be discared. But you remain the same, and your years will never end."
From the beginning of time when God set this world in motion, to the end when He brings His kingdom to earth and allows us to experience the new heaven and the new earth ... God is the same. Our perceptions of Him may change throughout our lives, but this God ... the creator of all ... remains the same.
For this, I am grateful!
1. A friend in Florida is trying to decipher God's plan for her life as her son has been told he can no longer attend school where he is because they no longer reside in that county. She knows that she wants to move to a completely different city, but is the timing right for that? Only God knows.
2. A friend in Lincoln just lost a position with a major Christian company. She knows that God has been calling her away from that position for quite some time, but what is next? Will the job that she has been praying about for nearly 1 year finally fall into place? Or is God calling her to be somewhere else.
3. A friend in Omaha is facing a complete change in her marriage. She will face singleness again and in the midst of that change will be dealing with much ugliness and pain. She is looking for a new job as well, but the solidity of that has yet to come into her life. What is God doing with her life?
4. My brother has 4 children and is trying to discern God's plan as these kids begin planning for major changes in their lives. His eldest son took the ACTs today, is at his first Prom tonight and begins his senior year in high school this fall ... changes are going to take place. Matt is also facing heart surgery this summer to repair a hole. His youngest daughter is adopted, has severe ramifications from fetal alcohol syndrome and they are trying to figure out what to do next with her - how all of this will impact her and the family.
5. Much less important in the lives of the world, but it was hilarious to me was a change that we are trying to implement in my workplace. There are those who resist any type of change and react quite negatively when faced with it. Verbal attacks and stalling are set into motion when change begins to happen.
6. Max has to begin making some decisions in the last period of his ankle recuperation as he looks for a new job. What does God have planned for him ... and for us?
7. A friend in Omaha with cancer has been dealing with life changes as she left the job that she loves and faces an uphill battle with this recurrence.
8. The staff at church is faced with the idea of a new director coming in that will be in supervision over all of us. While exciting, the concern of not knowing who it is or how they will handle that supervision is still there.
Let's just say that my prayers have been focused on 'change' this last week. I can't believe the incredible flux that my friends, family and myself have been in.
This afternoon Max and I were discussing the 'Christian world-view' and how we can not imagine life without the comfort of knowing that there is a God who is above all of the stress that we live with. We can rely on this God and can be comfortable in the fact that our Creator is greater than we are and knows where we are going and what will be happening to us.
How do you face getting up in the morning without that assurance? I can not imagine.
I'm so thankful for a God who does not change. With all of the craziness that I face, my God remains rock solid.
This is an amazing passage from the Psalms - Psalm 102:25-27
"In the beginning you laid the foundations of the earth, and the heavens are the work of your hands. They will perish, but you remain; they will all wear out like a garment. Like clothing you will change them and they will be discared. But you remain the same, and your years will never end."
From the beginning of time when God set this world in motion, to the end when He brings His kingdom to earth and allows us to experience the new heaven and the new earth ... God is the same. Our perceptions of Him may change throughout our lives, but this God ... the creator of all ... remains the same.
For this, I am grateful!
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
On my mind
Goodness! This morning as I was waking up and drifting off, I slipped into dreamland. I dreamt about an old boyfriend - Rick. I haven't thought of him in years. Before I got married, I would dream of him regularly - how he had come back into my life and we got to know each other again. My heart still maintained a memory of the love we shared.
Rick and I were together for 5 years, my first true, deep love. I was a senior in high school when we started dating and we were together all through my college years. He was a great guy. His mom didn't like me much. I could never figure that out. Every other mother in town prayed for their son to date the preacher's daughter - I didn't like any of them. But, for some reason, Rick's mom wasn't terribly comfortable with our relationship. Ok, maybe it had something to do with the fact that I was a year older than he was. Oh well ... sigh.
We broke up after I graduated from college - he was working in Minnesota, I was not even in Sigourney anymore (where we went to high school together). It was difficult and our time together had ceased. We saw each other only twice more after that - both of those meetings were difficult.
I realized this morning that I have been missing him all of these years. How do you have an intense five year relationship with someone and then walk away. I had been angry with him, sad because of the loss, but I have never been able to say "You were a big part of my life and I appreciate what you meant to me then."
Oh, I've moved way past where I was then. I know that God's plan for my married life has been fulfilled in Max. I don't want any of you to think that I'm yearning for a past relationship. Good heavens, no!
But, I want to know if he's ok. I want to know if he's happy. I want to know what he's doing and I want to know about his family. I don't know where he's living, I know nothing about him.
So, this morning as he was on my mind, I prayed for him. For his family, for any needs that he might have, for joy and peace in his heart. You see, I don't know if God put him on my heart his morning for that reason or what? I haven't been thinking about my past much more than I usually do and I really haven't been thinking about Rick. But there he was. So, dear Lord ... if He needs anything or is worried about anything today ... be near.
Rick and I were together for 5 years, my first true, deep love. I was a senior in high school when we started dating and we were together all through my college years. He was a great guy. His mom didn't like me much. I could never figure that out. Every other mother in town prayed for their son to date the preacher's daughter - I didn't like any of them. But, for some reason, Rick's mom wasn't terribly comfortable with our relationship. Ok, maybe it had something to do with the fact that I was a year older than he was. Oh well ... sigh.
We broke up after I graduated from college - he was working in Minnesota, I was not even in Sigourney anymore (where we went to high school together). It was difficult and our time together had ceased. We saw each other only twice more after that - both of those meetings were difficult.
I realized this morning that I have been missing him all of these years. How do you have an intense five year relationship with someone and then walk away. I had been angry with him, sad because of the loss, but I have never been able to say "You were a big part of my life and I appreciate what you meant to me then."
Oh, I've moved way past where I was then. I know that God's plan for my married life has been fulfilled in Max. I don't want any of you to think that I'm yearning for a past relationship. Good heavens, no!
But, I want to know if he's ok. I want to know if he's happy. I want to know what he's doing and I want to know about his family. I don't know where he's living, I know nothing about him.
So, this morning as he was on my mind, I prayed for him. For his family, for any needs that he might have, for joy and peace in his heart. You see, I don't know if God put him on my heart his morning for that reason or what? I haven't been thinking about my past much more than I usually do and I really haven't been thinking about Rick. But there he was. So, dear Lord ... if He needs anything or is worried about anything today ... be near.
Saturday, April 07, 2007
I'm thankful
Today I am thankful. I suppose it might have something to do with the fact that I slept well last night and I had very little that I was required to do today. The church staff had a meeting with a potential candidate for the Director of Ministries position. That was cool. He was cool. We'll see what happens. Of course, many of us were a little nervous about implementing a new position with a stranger that would be supervising us. But, again, I am so thankful that I work in a place where God's will is as important as ours. Sure, this new position will probably be strange for us, but at the same time ... we can grow from it. I am grateful for a God that is a Creator. That means that there will always be change and none of us will ever be stagnant.
Stasis is safe ... sometimes, but there is no way that stasis will bring growth.That makes me think of the parable of the talents. The servant who was given 5 talents, invested well and doubled the investment - as did the servant who was given 2 talents. But, the one that only received a single talent, buried it. Stasis. No growth, no change ... and in that comfortable position (so he thought) he lost everything. I don't ever want to be that type of a Christian.
I don't always look forward to God bringing about change in my life. In fact, many times it just plain stresses me out. But, I do look forward to seeing what can happen with that change. I pray for that type of transformational change in our church. If change brings growth and stasis brings loss or death ... I certainly don't want to be a proponent of the status quo. Jesus messed with the status quo. He allowed himself to be crucified so that He could bring the world out of that stasis.
Tomorrow ... we celebrate the Resurrection. I am so thankful to be past this year's remembrance of the crucifixion. Oh, I know how important it is to my life, but I'm thankful to be a part of a church that celebrates the Resurrection ... new life ... change ... growth ...
I'm thankful for a God the has given me the Resurrection ... new life ... change ... growth.
Happy Easter!
Stasis is safe ... sometimes, but there is no way that stasis will bring growth.That makes me think of the parable of the talents. The servant who was given 5 talents, invested well and doubled the investment - as did the servant who was given 2 talents. But, the one that only received a single talent, buried it. Stasis. No growth, no change ... and in that comfortable position (so he thought) he lost everything. I don't ever want to be that type of a Christian.
I don't always look forward to God bringing about change in my life. In fact, many times it just plain stresses me out. But, I do look forward to seeing what can happen with that change. I pray for that type of transformational change in our church. If change brings growth and stasis brings loss or death ... I certainly don't want to be a proponent of the status quo. Jesus messed with the status quo. He allowed himself to be crucified so that He could bring the world out of that stasis.
Tomorrow ... we celebrate the Resurrection. I am so thankful to be past this year's remembrance of the crucifixion. Oh, I know how important it is to my life, but I'm thankful to be a part of a church that celebrates the Resurrection ... new life ... change ... growth ...
I'm thankful for a God the has given me the Resurrection ... new life ... change ... growth.
Happy Easter!
Rested
There will be no big Holy Week blog today ... the week is over. The scriptures record only one thing between the Burial of Jesus and the Resurrection of Jesus.
Matthew 27:62-66 tells us that the chief priests were so frightened of Jesus, they went to Pilate and asked him to ensure the security of the tomb where Jesus' body lay (is it still there?). They were concerned that the disciples might steal the body. Pilate acquiesced one more time to this group of men and allowed them to post a guard at the tomb and put a seal on it.
I find that though these things are seemingly done by frightened little men, they ensured God's power would be proven when He did His thing!
This is probably why I am learning to react less and less when people do things to upset me. You see, I am learning (yes, I AM a slow learner, so this doesn't happen daily) that once God's plan is set into place, man cannot mess it up. Especially if we are praying about it regularly. So, when I think that individuals are screwing things up ... in the larger scheme of things ... they are only a small ripple.
The title of this blog is 'rested'. Ahhh ... the joy of rest. This week was a long week at work! There is a lot to do for a church staff during Holy Week. And we were doing it all. It was wonderful! I had a young man come in several days this week. Ben had the week off of school and his choice was to serve his church. That's pretty awesome.
Until ... {grin} I realized that meant that I had to supervise him! (hehehe) Did I come up with things he could do on the computer so that it would be a low threshold physically. Oh no ... I had a young man to do my bidding and it was time to rearrange the workroom / volunteer room. He hauled stuff to the dumpsters, he re-did all of the pew pads, he arranged the new brochure racks for me. But, the thing is ... I was planning on doing these things later ... not now. I had my butt run ragged by an 18 year old! "Diane, if you get this done, I can finish this project." "Diane, do you have the brochures done yet?" "Diane, come look at this and see if I have it done the way you'd like it to look."
Oh my goodness! He emptied one closet, three large metal cabinets, dragged those three cabinets around into useful locations, filled them so they would be properly used and did so much more!
By Friday night, though, I was exhausted. I worked with him on all of that and did everything I needed to do to get mailings out, bulletins printed, etc., etc. I completely messed up things on the mailings. Whoops! My brain was working too fast, and obviously was not working fully engaged.
I got home last night with takeout from The Greek Islands and I crashed. I fell asleep by 7:45 or so, woke up at 9:30 and posted my Holy Week blog. I was asleep again by 1:00 am, and with one short panicked interruption by a doggie who had to go outside badly at 6:00 am, I slept until 10:00 this morning! REST! I got amazing, wonderful rest.
My body barely moved last night. In fact, the joints in my toes were tired! I tell you that because I noticed that they hurt! (hehe). But, this morning, I feel great. Rest is so important and I am so thankful for my weekends so that I can bring my body back to normal after wild, exciting, fabulous weeks.
I wonder if the disciples rested after the crucifixion. Did they stay up late talking about everything that they had experienced. Were they reliving their memories of times with Jesus, or were they so exhausted from lack of sleep that they just crashed into their beds? Remember, most of them had gotten no sleep the night before either. I only hope that they had enough presence of mind to know that God was bigger than man's plans and could allow their hope to rest in the God of creation and the God of their fathers.
That's my hope for today. That we all know that God is bigger than our plans and our hope should rest in the God of creation and the God of our fathers!
Matthew 27:62-66 tells us that the chief priests were so frightened of Jesus, they went to Pilate and asked him to ensure the security of the tomb where Jesus' body lay (is it still there?). They were concerned that the disciples might steal the body. Pilate acquiesced one more time to this group of men and allowed them to post a guard at the tomb and put a seal on it.
I find that though these things are seemingly done by frightened little men, they ensured God's power would be proven when He did His thing!
This is probably why I am learning to react less and less when people do things to upset me. You see, I am learning (yes, I AM a slow learner, so this doesn't happen daily) that once God's plan is set into place, man cannot mess it up. Especially if we are praying about it regularly. So, when I think that individuals are screwing things up ... in the larger scheme of things ... they are only a small ripple.
The title of this blog is 'rested'. Ahhh ... the joy of rest. This week was a long week at work! There is a lot to do for a church staff during Holy Week. And we were doing it all. It was wonderful! I had a young man come in several days this week. Ben had the week off of school and his choice was to serve his church. That's pretty awesome.
Until ... {grin} I realized that meant that I had to supervise him! (hehehe) Did I come up with things he could do on the computer so that it would be a low threshold physically. Oh no ... I had a young man to do my bidding and it was time to rearrange the workroom / volunteer room. He hauled stuff to the dumpsters, he re-did all of the pew pads, he arranged the new brochure racks for me. But, the thing is ... I was planning on doing these things later ... not now. I had my butt run ragged by an 18 year old! "Diane, if you get this done, I can finish this project." "Diane, do you have the brochures done yet?" "Diane, come look at this and see if I have it done the way you'd like it to look."
Oh my goodness! He emptied one closet, three large metal cabinets, dragged those three cabinets around into useful locations, filled them so they would be properly used and did so much more!
By Friday night, though, I was exhausted. I worked with him on all of that and did everything I needed to do to get mailings out, bulletins printed, etc., etc. I completely messed up things on the mailings. Whoops! My brain was working too fast, and obviously was not working fully engaged.
I got home last night with takeout from The Greek Islands and I crashed. I fell asleep by 7:45 or so, woke up at 9:30 and posted my Holy Week blog. I was asleep again by 1:00 am, and with one short panicked interruption by a doggie who had to go outside badly at 6:00 am, I slept until 10:00 this morning! REST! I got amazing, wonderful rest.
My body barely moved last night. In fact, the joints in my toes were tired! I tell you that because I noticed that they hurt! (hehe). But, this morning, I feel great. Rest is so important and I am so thankful for my weekends so that I can bring my body back to normal after wild, exciting, fabulous weeks.
I wonder if the disciples rested after the crucifixion. Did they stay up late talking about everything that they had experienced. Were they reliving their memories of times with Jesus, or were they so exhausted from lack of sleep that they just crashed into their beds? Remember, most of them had gotten no sleep the night before either. I only hope that they had enough presence of mind to know that God was bigger than man's plans and could allow their hope to rest in the God of creation and the God of their fathers.
That's my hope for today. That we all know that God is bigger than our plans and our hope should rest in the God of creation and the God of our fathers!
Friday, April 06, 2007
Holy Week - Day 6
Good Friday ... I don't think so. But, since this is the day that Jesus responded to God's demand on His life so that we could know eternity ... it is a wonderful day for us. My response is only gratefulness.
Texts today come from Matthew 26:57-27:66, Mark 14:53-15:47, Luke 22:54-23:53, and John 18:13-19:42.
This day starts in the middle of the night. The detachment of soldiers brought Him first to Annas. Now ... Annas was the faither-in-law of Caiaphas, the high priest that year. Annas had been high priest in AD 6, appointed by Quirinius. His rule as high priest brought the Jews under Roman rule. He was high priest for 10 years and his sons all served in the role. He was probably president of the Sanhedrin at the time, so Jesus was brought to him first. He questioned Jesus and then sent Him on to Caiaphas where Jesus faced His first trial of the day in front of the Sanhedrin.
During this time, Peter had been following the activities from a distance. He was noticed by a servant girl as he warmed himself by a fire in the courtyard of the high priest's home. When she asked about his alliance with Jesus, he disavowed any knowledge of the man. This happened twice more to the poor man. I guess once you get caught up in a lie, it's really difficult to get out of it. I certainly hope that no one looks down on Peter for this action. I think of the number of times that I have lived a life in the world without acknowledging Jesus as Lord ... ohhhhh ... I'm Peter. Peter had 3 years with His Lord ... I've had a lifetime. You would think I knew better.
Just as the rooster crowed following the third denial, Luke tells us that "The Lord turned and looked straight at Peter." Argh!!!! Oh ... that is painful.
Jesus is questioned by the High Priest in front of the Sanhedrin. The high priest called for Jesus to answer under oath, "Tell us if you are the Christ, the Son of God." Jesus responded with "Yes, it is as you say." Now, for any of us who face down doubters regarding Christ's admission of divinity, the answer is plainly given here. No questions ... we're done!
Jesus was proclaimed a blasphemer, they spit on him slapped him and struck him ... these teachers and elders were no more than common thugs. Isn't it interesting that religious disagreements will bring even the most learned to their basest instincts. We lose all of our sensibilities!
Daybreak! And it's time to get this thing going. The whole assembly took Jesus to Pilate. When Pilate asked Jesus if He was king of the Jews ... Jesus answered 'yes' again! Pilate couldn't find anything wrong with Jesus, and didn't want to deal with Him. He discovered Jesus was from Galilee - and sent Him off to Herod. Herod questioned Jesus - Jesus refused to answer Him. Herod dressed Him in fine robes and sent Him back to Pilate.
Side Note: Luke tells us that after this point, Herod and Pilate became friends, though they never had been before. Hmmm ... Jesus was finally something they could have in common. Neither of them wanted to deal with it.
We know that Pilate washed His hands of the whole thing. Matthew tells us that Pilate's wife warned him to have nothing to do with Jesus - she was troubled by a dream. But, Pilate finds a loophole and releases Barrabbas when the crowds call for Jesus' crucifixion. Pilate had Jesus flogged and handed him over to be crucified.
Matthew and Mark tell us that the soldiers put a purple robe on Jesus and weave a crown of thorns. Simon of Cyrene was called out to carry the cross for Jesus. They offered him wine - mixed with gall, they cast lots for His clothing. John tells us that the sign "This is Jesus, The King of the Jews" was written by Pilate and placed above Jesus. It was written in Aramaic, Latin and Greek for everyone to read. When the chief priests protested, Pilate said "What I have written, I have written." John also relates the names of the women at the foot of the cross. And John tells us that Jesus asked him to care for His mother.
About 3:00 pm, Jesus called out "Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani". He gave up his spirit and it was over. The curtain in the temple was torn, the earth shook, tombs opened and people came back to life.
Evening was approaching and since this would be the Sabbath and it was during the Passover feast, the Jews didn't want these bodies hanging on the crosses. So, to ensure Jesus was dead, they pierced his side with a spear. There were plenty of people that stayed with Jesus from the beginning of the crucifixion until His burial, though they stayed at a distance.
You know, I think we deride them for their fear, but I think we have to be fully aware of the extreme persecution they were facing. If the Sanhedrin was angry enough at this man of God that they would execute Him, why would they not go after His followers next? These weren't great heroes, these were ordinary men who had just lost the person that was their link to God. They didn't have the power of the resurrection in their hearts yet.
Joseph of Arimathea was a member of the Sanhedrin. He asked Pilate for the body and buried it with the help of Nicodemus. The words of John 19:40 are so tender. These two men, who were not among the twelve, but were touched by Jesus, cared for our Lords' body. "Taking Jesus' body, the two of them wrapped it, with the spices, in strips of linen. This was in accordance with Jewish customs."
Luke tells us that the women who had come with Jesus from Galilee, followed Joseph and saw the tomb and how his body was laid in it. Matthew and Mark identify them as Mary Magdalene and the other Mary. They went home to prepare more spices and perfumes, but had to rest on the Sabbath.
Joseph rolled the rock into place. The day of darkness is nearly over.
Don't you wonder when the resurrection actually took place? When Jesus' body was gone from that tomb? Did He wait until Sunday morning? Did God leave the body there throughout the Sabbath?
We have no news of what happened the next day. I'm sure that since it was the Sabbath they didn't do much. I can only imagine the mourning that was occurring. Those were a couple of very dark days for Jesus' family, friends and disciples.
Texts today come from Matthew 26:57-27:66, Mark 14:53-15:47, Luke 22:54-23:53, and John 18:13-19:42.
This day starts in the middle of the night. The detachment of soldiers brought Him first to Annas. Now ... Annas was the faither-in-law of Caiaphas, the high priest that year. Annas had been high priest in AD 6, appointed by Quirinius. His rule as high priest brought the Jews under Roman rule. He was high priest for 10 years and his sons all served in the role. He was probably president of the Sanhedrin at the time, so Jesus was brought to him first. He questioned Jesus and then sent Him on to Caiaphas where Jesus faced His first trial of the day in front of the Sanhedrin.
During this time, Peter had been following the activities from a distance. He was noticed by a servant girl as he warmed himself by a fire in the courtyard of the high priest's home. When she asked about his alliance with Jesus, he disavowed any knowledge of the man. This happened twice more to the poor man. I guess once you get caught up in a lie, it's really difficult to get out of it. I certainly hope that no one looks down on Peter for this action. I think of the number of times that I have lived a life in the world without acknowledging Jesus as Lord ... ohhhhh ... I'm Peter. Peter had 3 years with His Lord ... I've had a lifetime. You would think I knew better.
Just as the rooster crowed following the third denial, Luke tells us that "The Lord turned and looked straight at Peter." Argh!!!! Oh ... that is painful.
Jesus is questioned by the High Priest in front of the Sanhedrin. The high priest called for Jesus to answer under oath, "Tell us if you are the Christ, the Son of God." Jesus responded with "Yes, it is as you say." Now, for any of us who face down doubters regarding Christ's admission of divinity, the answer is plainly given here. No questions ... we're done!
Jesus was proclaimed a blasphemer, they spit on him slapped him and struck him ... these teachers and elders were no more than common thugs. Isn't it interesting that religious disagreements will bring even the most learned to their basest instincts. We lose all of our sensibilities!
Daybreak! And it's time to get this thing going. The whole assembly took Jesus to Pilate. When Pilate asked Jesus if He was king of the Jews ... Jesus answered 'yes' again! Pilate couldn't find anything wrong with Jesus, and didn't want to deal with Him. He discovered Jesus was from Galilee - and sent Him off to Herod. Herod questioned Jesus - Jesus refused to answer Him. Herod dressed Him in fine robes and sent Him back to Pilate.
Side Note: Luke tells us that after this point, Herod and Pilate became friends, though they never had been before. Hmmm ... Jesus was finally something they could have in common. Neither of them wanted to deal with it.
We know that Pilate washed His hands of the whole thing. Matthew tells us that Pilate's wife warned him to have nothing to do with Jesus - she was troubled by a dream. But, Pilate finds a loophole and releases Barrabbas when the crowds call for Jesus' crucifixion. Pilate had Jesus flogged and handed him over to be crucified.
Matthew and Mark tell us that the soldiers put a purple robe on Jesus and weave a crown of thorns. Simon of Cyrene was called out to carry the cross for Jesus. They offered him wine - mixed with gall, they cast lots for His clothing. John tells us that the sign "This is Jesus, The King of the Jews" was written by Pilate and placed above Jesus. It was written in Aramaic, Latin and Greek for everyone to read. When the chief priests protested, Pilate said "What I have written, I have written." John also relates the names of the women at the foot of the cross. And John tells us that Jesus asked him to care for His mother.
About 3:00 pm, Jesus called out "Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani". He gave up his spirit and it was over. The curtain in the temple was torn, the earth shook, tombs opened and people came back to life.
Evening was approaching and since this would be the Sabbath and it was during the Passover feast, the Jews didn't want these bodies hanging on the crosses. So, to ensure Jesus was dead, they pierced his side with a spear. There were plenty of people that stayed with Jesus from the beginning of the crucifixion until His burial, though they stayed at a distance.
You know, I think we deride them for their fear, but I think we have to be fully aware of the extreme persecution they were facing. If the Sanhedrin was angry enough at this man of God that they would execute Him, why would they not go after His followers next? These weren't great heroes, these were ordinary men who had just lost the person that was their link to God. They didn't have the power of the resurrection in their hearts yet.
Joseph of Arimathea was a member of the Sanhedrin. He asked Pilate for the body and buried it with the help of Nicodemus. The words of John 19:40 are so tender. These two men, who were not among the twelve, but were touched by Jesus, cared for our Lords' body. "Taking Jesus' body, the two of them wrapped it, with the spices, in strips of linen. This was in accordance with Jewish customs."
Luke tells us that the women who had come with Jesus from Galilee, followed Joseph and saw the tomb and how his body was laid in it. Matthew and Mark identify them as Mary Magdalene and the other Mary. They went home to prepare more spices and perfumes, but had to rest on the Sabbath.
Joseph rolled the rock into place. The day of darkness is nearly over.
Don't you wonder when the resurrection actually took place? When Jesus' body was gone from that tomb? Did He wait until Sunday morning? Did God leave the body there throughout the Sabbath?
We have no news of what happened the next day. I'm sure that since it was the Sabbath they didn't do much. I can only imagine the mourning that was occurring. Those were a couple of very dark days for Jesus' family, friends and disciples.
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