return to sender

rather than wearing something old, new, borrowed and blue for my wedding, i took the opportunity to write a letter of appreciation to each of my old, new, borrowed and blue families, each named after its representative subset. my "old" family is my church family, being represented by a group of folks i lovingly refer to as "my old people." these hoary-headed church members are simply a delight to be around, and i always look forward to sharing their company around a table for wednesday night dinners. in exchange, they shared their joy, their stories, their wisdom, their encouragement, their experience- in short, it was not a fair trade by any means. they were totally ripped off.

at some point in the past year-ish (?) our church began a more intentional push to return some blessing to our elder members, especially those who are home-bound, sick, or living alone, by setting out cards, envelopes, and a list of their names so that we could write them notes of encouragement. if we learned anything in 2020, it was how soul-deadening that level of isolation can be (and also to wash your filthy disgusting hands, but that's another soapbox… ).

anyway, i know personally several of those names, and recognized several others, so i grabbed a members list and a pile of cards, used the excuse to buy cool new pens, and i began my "experiment."  i'd try to write a set number each week, and as soon as i heard anyone was calling the church to inquire about what weirdo was stalking them with random cards, i'd stop- or at least sign someone else's name (JK!  jk….)

bunny trail: this is what enneagram 5s do. we call new ventures "experiments" so that if it turns out to be a colossal failure we don't have to blame ourselves.

it was awkward at first. because seriously, who does this anymore? what do i say to someone i haven't seen in person for months, or more, or who is decades older, who i don't have much in common with? like, "hey, how are you- i just spent an hour cleaning crayon off every surface in the living room." i doubted anyone would care very much. but maybe they'd still like to remember what it was like to chase toddlers around, or look up the Bible verse i stuck in there, or smile at the animal stamp i stuck in the corner (i just had to. these stamps are too darn cute to not be put on absolutely everything i can).

but then something weird happened. a lady i'd never, ever spoken directly to found me one sunday and said a teary-eyed thank you. the next wednesday 2 women that i did know quite well said the same- one had a mother who received a card; the second was a widow who happened to get her card around the same time of year her husband died. a 94-year old hobbled down the long children's wing to find me, tell me some of her life story and give me a hug. (and then another elderly fellow said how much he appreciated the christmas card, because now he knew who the heck had been writing these cards, so it worked!)

but then something else happened. i got an email from the church secretary saying she didn't send one of the cards because the recipient had just passed away.

and its happened twice more. my "old people" leaving me before i was quite ready to say goodbye- i'd barely said hello to one of them. i was reminded of one of my memory verses, hebrews 12:1- "since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witness…" that cloud is a bit larger now, and heavy with their love, joy, and faithfulness. ms. clara- she was the first to write a letter of congratulations after my engagement, from her nursing home, no less. she had absolutely pure white hair, enabling her to wear NEON shirts and look AWESOME. mr. lynn- he came every week by the college students' pew, asking each of us if we were staying around after graduation. he was ecstatic when he found out i was. his wife, ms pat- she is getting a card this week. she sang in the choir, and smiled big enough for the entire soprano section. ms. janice took the plunge and joined facebook, tracking and commenting on my posts faithfully until covid called her heavenward. mr morris, ms sandy, ms mollie… ms pat is the only one here i can still write to.

and then this week happened.

i knew it was off to a bad start when i woke up to nik asking what to do with the kiddo who wandered into the work room covered in cute baby barf and asked for mo doos? cuppeese? (more juice? cup please?).  as i flushed away my entire day's plans, i received news that someone close to me had a possibly bad medical issue, a sister had tornado watches in effect, and that i would never be able to have that video call to my grandad i was planning.

i was nowhere near as consistent with calling him as i've been with these letters. i knew that he closely followed us on facebook, and thought of him with every post i've made, but it's not the same as a two-way conversation where he can share, too. this is more of a loss than anyone who didn't know him could understand. more than 90 years old, his mind was remarkably intact and every conversation with him brought forth more memories, stories, humorous anecdotes, and thoughts.

once the barfing baby stopped, i was able to clean (eVeRyThINg) up, sit down, and breathe. since i'd already written my week's homebound letters, i've decided to write one more, even though this one won't get mailed, either.

dear grandad,

hey- how are you? i just spent a day cleaning baby barf smell off every surface in … basically the whole house. it's a good thing your great grandkid is so cute. i remember when we first told you she was on her way, and the loss i felt when two days later my monday crumbled with news of grandmother's death. i was glad for the 4-day weekend that let us travel to you for her funeral. well, what do you know? two days after hearing about how you were doing, my monday crumbled.

except not really. it shook a bit, but stayed upright. this 4-day weekend won't let me come say the "official" goodbye, but i feel like we've sent those same thoughts back and forth already. i treasure the picture of you meeting bugaboo for the first time, and the joy on both of your faces. that "hello" memory is so much better than any "goodbye" memory i could get now at your funeral.

i kinda knew. i'm bummed, but not surprised. in fact, my first instinctive reaction was, "finally" (wait before you judge me)! my second was, "i still had that one question for him."

i won't get an answer, but i may as well ask anyway. besides, i already have a couple new ones for you.

first, of course, is "how is grandmother?" i already know the first place you ran to was that heavenly throne and the One who sits upon it. there is no way for you to describe Him, which is why i'm not asking about it. the apostle john did his best, and we all see how that turned out; i doubt even as good a storyteller as you could do better. there aren't words to express the emotions you must have gone through when your faith became sight and your immortal eyes were hit with that blaze of Glory. i imagine that's where you found her. i want so badly to know how she looks and how she's been spending this first part of eternity. was she able to watch you join a heavenly music band for a song or two? did you share a laugh about ditching that walker you both used, before you ran hand in hand down some heavenly sidewalk?

tell me about your "mansion," would you? when i said goodbye to your old home last april, i remember wondering at how small it was- practically a cottage, really. in all my memories it's several times larger! i could hear in every word you spoke that the house was getting smaller and smaller to you, too. just like my "old people," i watched you live out your faith day by day, making excellent use of your time on earth, but increasingly eager to leave it. once grandmother left, no place on earth would ever be "home." that little house was practically a mansion to us- mostly because of the enormous amount of love you and grandmother cram-jammed into it, and i'm just curious what i'll see when i finally get to visit you again.

of much less importance, but still: i have GOT to hear the story behind that freakishly gigantic safety pin on your little shelf of knick-knacks. we'd talked about you telling me about each one as i asked over calls or texts… but somehow we never got around to those. i'm having one of those cliché "ah, what i wouldn't give for one more conversation" moments. i just loved basically every story you ever told (especially the medical ones), and even small or simple every day moments had shades of legend when you told them. and let's be real- a 5 inch safety pin is not an everyday item; i refuse to believe the background story is anything less than hysterical. it's my fault for not just asking ages ago.

as long as i'm asking imaginary questions in an imaginary letter, i'll toss this one in, too: ARE THERE DINOSAURS UP THERE?!? no, but really!! if there's a new heaven and a new earth, and the first one was perfect (at least for a few verses), i'm hoping the new perfect earth has them as well. and if there are dinosaurs, are there cats- cats that look like the ones we've known here? maybe only the ones we liked…. i know animals don't have souls, and there will be perfect joy and peace in heaven, Jesus is all we need… but man, having a pet dinosaur to ride in heaven would be basically the coolest thing ever.

don't judge me. okay, maybe judge me a little bit.

i've got a bunch of your day lilies planted here. there are some on each side of the house, to maximize my chances of not killing most of them. now i just need to put some kind of garden border around them, to maximize the lawn guy's chances of not killing the rest. so far, most of them grew back, even after being mowed down a few times. i'm hoping, hoping it works out, and that they will be a reminder for many, many years to come.

a reminder to ask questions, write letters, learn from and listen to the people close to us, because we are never guaranteed another day to do so.

a reminder that every day is precious and we are called to be good stewards of our time and relationships.

a reminder that beyond this life is another one, a far better one, a life where the day lilies last as long as, well, that never-ending day.

a reminder to "lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely," so i can "run the race set before [me], looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of [my] faith," to someday join my "no-longer-old people" at the finish line.

a reminder that in the midst of that "great cloud of witnesses" there is now yet another one: one i miss seeing here a little, but look forward to seeing again a lot. once i spend a few thousand years with Jesus, i'm gonna take my pet dino for a walk past your mansion and we'll have eternity to catch up.

tell grandmother i say "hello." 

the old, the new, the borrowed and blue

one of the most fascinating things about life is the variety of relationships that spring from it. the idea of belonging originates with God’s relationship to man at creation before growing increasingly complex and beautiful. God institutes the marriage covenant between Adam and Eve who, together with their children, form the first family in Genesis. while the word “family” has persisted in language to refer to a group of people related by marriage and/or genetics, the pages of the Bible actually show a huge broadening of meaning.

 

united by genetics and marriage, Adam and Eve form the first family unit, as they are joined through God’s marriage covenant and then produce offspring. as we all have experienced, family ties are difficult to sever, no matter how far apart its members go. a “family,” with parents and children, are the basic building blocks of every society; weaken one and the other will inevitably start to crumble. even beyond dna, God has infused each family with its own unique relationships, dynamics, experiences. these give a human a sense of history, of belonging- even children brought up in an adoptive home have an innate desire to understand who their birth parents were, where they came from, how they fit into the history of both their families and the world. i think part of that is a God-given sense to find their way back to their very first Father, as He is the One who puts each of us into the earthly families that He does.

 

united by calling, we read of Levites eating celebratory meals together as they perform their duties in the Tabernacle and receive their designated portions- coworkers sharing their lives as they share the tasks - and the food!- God designated for them. a group of guys from all the different branches of a huge extended family tree, working in shifts to keep the Tabernacle in tip-top shape 24/7/365- the one single place around which the entire society literally revolved (no pressure, guys). in the New Testament, Jesus and a bizarre collection of men spend several years together doing everything a “normal” family does (even though at least one of them was married): eating the Passover together (a family/holiday event), walking, sleeping, talking, bickering, learning, growing, working, loving… all as a single, cohesive, group that becomes more close-knit than most any biological family.

 

united by faith, you see God continually inviting non-israelites into their community. several hundred years later, Paul the Apostle explains it clearly and repeatedly as many wild olive branches grafted into one cultivated olive tree. that one olive tree is the Church, and is a family that connects people from every language, nation, and people group. the family that began with a man, a woman, and their kids in Genesis becomes a family that encircles the globe in Revelation and spans every era. the 64 books in between trace the divine expansion of the word “family” and shows God’s plan unfolding to include every ethnicity. this Church family is way more incredible than we generally acknowledge, but we feel the ache inside when we go very long at all without coming together- like what we have all been feeling this year being separated from friends and family for Easter, and summer vacations, and Thanksgiving (and probs Christmas, too, now…). that's you missing your family!!

 

united by purpose, Paul the Apostle writes of his fatherly affection for Timothy who faithfully continues in their evangelistic mission. Timothy was raised in the faith by his grandmother, and we know nothing of his own parents. wherever they were, Paul takes him under his wing and basically adopts him as they travel and preach. having completed his training, Timothy is set as pastor of one of the churches he helped plant with Paul, and he is then commissioned to not "only" preach, but also to be an example of the same kind of adoptive church leader that his congregants can then model themselves after. every Christian is a member of the worldwide Church family, but within that body of believers, there are relationships that form that are so close, so foundational and formational, that this usage of "adoption" and "family" is the only language that is really appropriate, genetics be darned. i don't have much doubt at all that if Paul was anywhere near his young charge for Thanksgiving, they would be sitting side by side at Timothy's grandmother's house (because really? who else can make mashed potatoes and casseroles like a grandmother?).

 

 

To my OLD family:

 

thank you.

a friend asked me once what my favorite thing about my church was, and my immediate response was, “my old people!” my Church family is a blessing i would be lost without, and you as my “old people” represent the Church boldly. i cannot thank you all enough for the encouragement, support, prayers, wisdom and Jesus-love each of you has heaped upon me. i know it’s not politically correct to say “old,” but i have enjoyed having this church’s older generation to learn from as much as i have learning with the younger generation in the cubbies class. “gray hair is a crown of blessing,” and man, you make those crowns look good!!

you've helped me move, you've hosted me in your homes, you've done my yard work. you have fed me, you have visited me when sick, sent birthday cards, kept me sane during a hard year of studying. you reached out to me as a Union student, asking me to stay in Jackson starting sophomore year. you have openly shared your joys and griefs, your gains and losses, your struggles and victories, and how your enduring faith has brought you through it all. a few of you have even done me the honor of being my patients in the hospital ;)

you ran to the altar with open arms (and tissues and coffee) when i joined the church by baptism, you have supported me on mission trips without restraint, and you are generally a fabulous group of people that i wouldn’t trade for anything. 

 

 

To my NEW family:

eye wuvz yoo. my newest biological family- my “niephews,” you are the best things about family gatherings. i love snuggle parties on the couch, reading the same 5 books a hundred times, and seeing your artistically genius abstract crayon drawings on my fridge. i wish you could all stay small forever, but i also look forward to seeing who you grow up to be. 

to the newest family member by marriage… you already know i love you, or i wouldn’t be marrying you today. i have no idea what plan God has for our family, but there’s no one else i’d rather be with to find out.

to the soon-to-be newest family member by marriage… i’ll never think anyone is good enough for my sister, but i guess you’re pretty close. i promise to forgive you at some point for taking her all the freaking way to arizona. welcome to the clan!!

 

To my BORROWED family:

i guess this all goes to show you never know what you’ll find in a garbage dump.

what started as a “simple” mission trip turned into the beginning of a new phase of growth in my life and proof of God’s providential care, supplying for my needs at a crucial time before those needs even arose.

thank you for being a place to go when i needed safe haven, and a constant source of support and laughter. the blinged-out blanket forts, butter bread and extremely random youtube videos are just bonuses for the real treasure of having an “extra” family to be a part of. when i needed a “home” closer than 800 miles, you provided one. when i needed to know why my car was making those weird sounds, you were there. when i just needed time to mend, you opened your emotional first aid kit and got to work. when i didn’t know what i needed, you helped me get back on track. when life knocked me down, you hauled me to my feet. you made the concept of adoption a natural part of your lifestyle and i am the better for it.

 

To my BLUE family:

very few people know what we do, and even fewer people know how and why we do it. spending hours on our feet to take care of sick people large and small (and smaller) doesn’t spell “fun” for most anyone. we have accepted our unique role in society, and that we can be an odd crew- especially those of us on the night shift! i would contend that we are odd also in the way that we are such a “family”- we celebrate birthdays, weddings, births. we gather together for holidays (because we have to, but still) and weekends, and support each other through thick and thin. wedding showers, baby showers, retirement parties, holiday feasts, birthday potluck dinners, kids’ school fundraisers- all these things are like separate strings that form an uneven web where our individual lives and families intersect. not only celebrations, but we have also shared tears of loss and frustration and hurt at times- a biblical kind of love that forges relationships deeper than the word "coworker" conveys. i’m rather proud of my small collection of “work moms” who make sure to check up on me when i travel more than 0.25 miles from my house, and friends who are an endless source of knowledge and fun, as well as being able to serve our little, bitty patients alongside you. it’s an honor. i love you all!

 

 

overcome

it's been almost a full year that i started reading through the book of John and being Type A i've determined that i must stay here until the new year.  the Type B part doesn't have any problem with this.  i've seen things i never saw before, found treasure troves in the most unexpected places, and now i'm not even sure i could move on once january does makes its appearance.

all this, plus a new year's resolution to start memorizing more, plus recent events, plus a super phone app that makes memorizing a challenge i gladly accept mean that when i need them the words are there. 

i don't pay for tv services.  so not worth it, especially when facebook is faster and just as accurate.  and free.

but overnight thousands of lives were changed in Europe, just like has happened in too many other countries, and a new tidal wave of fear, anger and grief hit the shores of America. 

suddenly, profile pictures are covered with red, white and blue stripes, hashtags light up screens and even some atheists i know are "praying for Paris." but one picture i scrolled past caught my eye because i knew the overlaying quote, and the broader context.

"But take heart; I have overcome the world."

it's like magic, isn't it?  the chapter break comes at just the right point, almost making you stop and read it again.  and again.

"But take heart.  I have overcome the world."

i have no idea who first posted that on social media or if they had any idea of the context. that quote is from Jesus.

Jesus said that.

Jesus said that as he was physically walking from the borrowed upper room to the borrowed tomb, via a garden, a jury and a cross.  Judas Iscariot had just run out on them, the other 11 completely lost in confusion.  they finished their Passover feasting and Jesus, knowing everything past, present and future suggests an evening stroll to their favorite nearby hangout spot in the Garden of Gethsemane. 

one of my favorite pastors once said that you oughta pay attention to someone's last words.  if there's any place to say what's really important, deep deep down, that you want so desperately for someone to remember, that's what you're going to say when you know the end is coming.

that's what Jesus is doing right here.  Chapters 14 through 17 are Jesus's last chance to reinforce everything vital that He's been trying to get them to understand for the past couple years.  and He's doing it quite calmly so far, given that He knows what's going on and they don't.

not a word is written here about their reactions to His discourse here, but from past chapters, i'd bet a nickel that it was pretty similar to His other bold statements: most of them sitting (or walking) in stupefied silence until Peter recovers enough to open his mouth and start rambling nonsense. 

it could be that Peter didn't really recover from this one until after Judas showed up.  i don't think i would, either. 

mostly because the majority of this section at first read is bad news. really bad.  this is Jesus's "get ready" speech.

"you've seen what they've done; you're gonna see what they're about to do...you're next. they hate Me.  they're gonna hate you. I'm leaving; you're gonna miss Me. you're going to leave Me, deny Me, desert Me.  things are bad- they're going to get worse."

four chapters of this! four chapters of bad news as they casually stroll through the darkening streets of the city crammed full of celebrating Jews.  four chapters of increasingly depressing information that is completely out of place for a festive holiday season. 

kinda like right now.

even though i'm sitting here in a Panera sipping cooling coffee out of a seasonally-decorated cup (not red…), i have been at a loss for words reading small tidbits of news as it flies over from Paris.  this, on top of what we already know from a dozen other countries.  just like Jesus promised.

in a silent show of solidarity, i am currently wearing a t-shirt with a flaming red arabic N on it. the fact does not escape me that this would get me killed in all those dozen other countries.  just like Jesus promised.

families are being torn apart.  lives are being lost.  fanatics are holding hostages, selling humans and ransacking villages in the name of their religion. just like Jesus promised.

this is probably why Jesus wasn't interrupted.  how do you respond to this? how could He say all this so calmly like He was commenting on the robe sale at the tailor's place?

it's because of what else He promised.

that He's going to make a place for you and for me- a place where He is- where we will someday be with Him forever.

that He is the Way, the Truth and the Life.  He is the visible face of the Immortal, Invisible God.

that every single prophecy about Him from the beginning of time would be fulfilled- the ones we like, and the ones we don't like or understand. 

that we would not be alone, because the Helper was coming.

that if we abide in Him, we can ask whatever we wish in His name and it will be done for us. 

that a peace is coming unlike any peace we've known before, that cannot be duplicated or forged or destroyed or stolen or erased or damaged.

that our sorrow will be turned to joy, and that this joy would overflow, and that this joy would never, ever be taken away.

that we should take heart, because He has overcome the world.

and then Jesus Christ does something that i have read dozens of times and still haven't gotten over:

He prays for us.

He prays for His disciples… and then He prays for US.

"When Jesus had spoken these words, He lifted up His eye to heaven and said, "Father the hour has come; glorify Your Son that Your Son may glorify You, since You have given Him authority over all flesh, to give eternal life to all whom You have given Him.  And this is eternal life, that they know You the One true God, and Jesus Christ whom You have sent. I glorified You on earth, having accomplished the work that You gave Me to do. And now, Father, glorify Me in Your presence with the glory that I had with You before the world existed.

I have manifested Your name to the people whom You gave me out of the world. Yours they were, and You gave them to Me, and they have kept Your word. Now they know that everything You have given Me is from You. For I have them the words that You gave Me, and they have received them and have come to know in truth that I came from You; and they have believed that You sent Me. I am praying for them. I am not praying for the world but for those whom You have given Me, for they are Yours.  All Mine are Yours, and Yours are Mine, and I am glorified in them. And I am no longer in the world, but they are in the world, and I am coming to You. Holy Father, keep them in Your name, which You have given Me, that they may be one, even as We are one.  While I was with them, I kept them in Your name, which You have given Me.  I have guarded them, and not one of them has been lost except the son of destruction, that the Scriptures might be fulfilled.  But now I am coming to You, and these things I speak in the world, that they may have My joy fulfilled in themselves.  I have given them Your word, and the world has hated them because they are not of the world, just as I am not of the world.  I do not ask that You take them out of the world, but that You keep them from the evil one. They are not of the world, just as I am not of the world. Sanctify them in the truth; Your word is truth.  As You sent Me into the world, so I have sent them into the world.  And for their sake I consecrate Myself, that they also may be sanctified in truth.

I do not ask for these only, but also for those who will believe in Me through their word, that they may all be one, just as You, Father, are in Me, and I in You, that they also may be in Us, so that the world may believe that You have sent Me.  the glory that You have given Me I have given to them, that they may become perfectly one, so that the world may know that You sent Me and loved them even as You loved Me.  Father, I desire that they also, whom You have given Me, may be with Me where I am, to see My glory that You have given Me because You loved Me before the foundation of the world. O Righteous Father, even though the world does not know You, I know You, and these know that You have sent Me.  I made known to them Your name, and I will continue to make it known, that the love with which You have loved Me may be in them, and I in them."

 Jesus is literally minutes away from arrest and torture, but He takes this time to pray for us.  the Holy Trinity is having a conversation about us, and i love how the Helper nudged John and helped him write it down, after 'bringing to his remembrance all that He had spoken'.  (just like Jesus promised!)

i don't know everything that's going to happen.  we knew Islam was spreading all over Europe, that governments are closing their eyes, hearts and borders, and that the attacks will only continue as long as we do nothing.  we knew that Christianity was losing ground in this country and probably won't gain any back.

but i also know that i can't read those four chapters in John without being strangely calm.  because every prediction of heartache is met with a promise that far surpasses the trials coming our way.

we grieve this shameful nonsense occurring on a near-daily basis.  we mourn so many lives lost because they chose to follow the Way, Truth and Life.  those are my family members- my brothers and sisters- that are being murdered.  we support the victims and their loved ones any way we can.

but we do it all knowing that if those promises were kept, we can trust that ALL the promises He made are guaranteed us as well. 

we can lose heart when the task at hand dwarfs those available to help, when we see the enormous need and have so little to offer by ourselves.  when our neighbors are on the other side of the world and we don't even know how to begin the job of bearing their burdens with them.  Asia, South America, know that we are praying for you.

we take heart because the Helper is coming- has come.

we sometimes lose heart when we see each new report of torture and murder, as terrorist organizations indiscriminately wipe out pastors, farmers, wives, children, neighbors, churches, homes, entire villages as the world steps back.  Africa, Asia, know that we are praying for you.

we take heart because His hope and His healing are coming.

we'd lose heart if all we read was the newspaper.  some days you can't even read the comics without putting them down depressed.  this world is a mess. a gut-wrenching, tear-jerking mess. Europe, Syria, China, Korea, Ukraine, Russia, India, Iraq...brothers and sisters everywhere… please know we are praying for you.  we are praying that you remain steadfast, keeping your eyes on your King, your hope in your first citizenship in Heaven, your life in His hands, and your soul under His pinions.  take heart, because you are not alone- not even close to it. you have so many promises to stand on, each one a rock in the wall of protection surrounding you.

take heart- because He has overcome this world.

what Norman Rockwell forgot (or, the Webb FamFest 2014)

every year, there is this special day in America where we celebrate good food, all the good things we have, the bad things we don't, and the long-held family traditions.

we call it Thanksgiving.

a perfect, massive turkey with all the dressings, served from the left by a petite brunette weighing no more than 125 pounds to a manly man, head of the household as he proudly surveys his brood of perfectly behaved children, all eager to share their loving reflections of this past year and hopes for the year coming.  their hair is perfectly arranged and the china is gleaming. 

HA!

sorry- that was the Norman Rockwell poster that was probably true for one family once.  it was not our family. ever. but tell you the truth, i'm mostly okay with that.  if a picture is worth a thousand words, he captured 1,000 excellent, lovely, true words of what it means to belong to an American family.  this nation is truly blessed and i love the idea of celebrating and setting time aside solely to remember these blessings and praise the source of them all. 

i also love all the other stuff that can't fit into a painting.  what makes each family unique, what makes the best stories.  that family NR painted ain't got nothing on ours!

here's what Norman Rockwell forgot:

the full story of Turkey Day starts several hundred miles earlier, where every good American joins all the bad Americans in the craziest dance ever, all the players surrounding themselves with literal tons of metal and fly in all directions, all over the nation, going many, many miles per hour.

now, i love people.  what i DON'T love is people in cars. they are 5,000 of the 5,010 reasons I adore driving overnight.  the crazies aren't there.  they steer with one hand and with the other, they are eating, or drinking (a variety of liquids), changing radio stations, taking medications, changing clothes, shopping, video-chatting, texting, singing, screaming cuss words at the GPS, cutting nails, or slapping children in the backseat. 

funny: the telepathic mind games we play so we can edge our way in front of that Handicapped-license-plated lady in the old Ford car so we can set our cruise control and just GO.

funnier: the horrible knowledge that it does not matter what speed you set your cruise control to.  Eventually, the Handicapped lady, and the jerk in the jacked-up pickup truck are going to realize that you are "first" and that this is not "fair" and they ABSOLUTELY MUST BE IN FRONT OF YOU.  one of them will get in front of you, and then set THEIR cruise control for 2 mph less than you and refuse to go in the slower lane.

funniest: knowing that it also does not matter what state you are in, or what the sign says, be it 70, 65, 60, or 70 again.  the traffic pace does not change one whit.  you find that Handicapped lady's back bumper and stick to it.  set your cruise control to hers, and don't fight it.  

laws mean nothing when a good family vacation is at stake.  speed limits, state borders, and let's not forget our favorite: that moment when you are soaring down the middle lane of a 5-lane highway that is splitting into 2 highways, and suddenly a big ole' minivan realizes that they are one lane to your left, but they NEED TO BE IN THE FAR, FAR, RIGHT-EST LANE RIGHT NOW.  they need to stay on Interstate 40, not Interstate 81, and they ignored all the miles of signs, warning lights, GPS and Mapquest directions, backseat drivers and all the other cars who spent their time productively by safely and calmly getting into the proper lane.  NOPE.  let's just play with people's lives in our new, fun version of the Russian Roulette.

eventually, hopefully, you will arrive at the predetermined relatives' home, feeling, looking, and smelling just like you think you would, after being trapped in a metal, mobile cubicle for countless hours. good thing relatives are never stressful.  if you're in my family, you don't need to wait until The Feast before diving right on in to the arguments- we had the Pre-Feast Dinner.  Picture half a dozen people.  some with Law degrees, some with art or English degrees, some with NO degrees, all with opinions, debating huge controversial issues.  nobody in our family has an "indoor" voice.  we have 2 settings- Loud, and Louder. we all have opinions, and the presence or lack of food in our mouths doesn't change the opinion or the need to immediately share it with everyone, who is doing the same thing.  we sound like animals- we're not, i promise.  

i think just about every family that sets time aside during the year to get together has SOME sort of family tradition.  some families have the tradition of having NO tradition, but for some reason it's those traditions that draw them together even if they seem to do the opposite. 

for example: we used to have no other tradition besides just getting together every Thanksgiving.  one year, my athletically inclined uncle said "hey- this is a fabulous time on a fabulous day with some fabulous weather-let's go on a fabulous walk together." so we did, and at least 2 of us had a truly fabulous experience.

the next year, he said "hey- this is a fabulous day with some fabulous weather, so let's continue our fabulous tradition of a Thanksgiving Walk."  yeah- they pulled out the Tradition word.  the siblings and i looked at each other, saying "what is this 'tradition' that you speak of?" but we all went anyway.

you see what just happened there? yeah- see, now it WAS A TRADITION.

and because breaking traditions in our family is like sacrilege, it is now decreed that every Thanksgiving, our family goes on our annual Walk. 

i just need to share this moment from our Walk this year, which was about as miserable as possible.  one sister that i drove 800 miles to see busted her knee, so she, sadly, couldn't come. poor thing.  the other sister had a baby to feed, and the grandparents weren't up to it, and neither was the aunt.  family politics were suddenly a huge deal, and i convinced my brother to come (either because he loves me, or is a complete sucker for my Sad Puppy Dog Face) so i'd have someone to talk to.  then strategy came into play and we changed the speed of our walking to position ourselves with the "right" relatives, as all those relatives were doing the exact same thing. don't deny it- EVERY family does this, in some form or fashion.

well, sometimes the Weather Pixies don't really care about your family traditions, which is why smart people check the weather forecast to see whether it is compatible with these traditions so dear to our hearts. 

we didn't.  nobody checked the forecast.  but daggum, we were going on that Walk!! 

which started with a steep uphill climb.

then it started raining. 

then my hands went numb.

then the family members caught on to our pace and tried to catch up. 

then we were all miserable and turned around early. Joel and I power-walked/jogged back as fast as we could, which wasn't too fast because i'd donated blood a day before and was bent over double- but still way faster than anyone else because this was the worst Thanksgiving Walk ever, and i was on the verge of a breakdown by the time we sloshed, soaking wet, back indoors after almost 4 miles of rain, cold, and avoiding each other in the sneakiest manner possible.

this of course, leads up to the actual holiday part.  we all borrow clothes, throw the wet ones in the dryer, and scatter all over the house into the groups of people that will cause the least amount of stress, to talk politics, watch movies, play blocks with the baby and toddler, take pictures, take naps, or help prepare The Feast. i am so good at dumping and smashing ingredients together.  i should get a medal.  Aunt Kathy gets The Bird ready to go and I lay claim to that left drumstick.  4 hours later the feast is spread.  4 minutes after that- carnage. i was somehow the second to last person to go through line, but i did get the drumstick.  because we got all the fighting out of our systems, between last night and the Walk, we get down to the serious business of eating.  that's what Thanksgiving is for, right?  well, we take this quite seriously, and happen to be excellent at eating. we are stuffed before the food is quite gone, but somehow manage to take care of those desserts, too.

a while ago, Jackson was blessed to host a couple of our Brazilian  translators as they were visiting the US for a while and decide to bop on up for a few days.  a favorite moment while discussing the cultural differences was their facial expressions as we tried to explain a good ole' American Thanksgiving weekend, which isn't over until

BLACK FRIDAY.

America at its finest, folks.  word of advice: DON'T STAND NEAR THOSE KITCHEN APPLIANCES, or you WILL get mowed down by that overzealous grandmother tearing through the store to get her greedy hands on the last crockpot on sale.  i mean, it's not like Thanksgiving is all about celebrating all the good things we have or anything… oh wait.  take that family picture before bed Thursday, because come Friday 3 am, we as a general public, devolve into stark-raving mad lunatics.  the idea that people have actually DIED by being trampled by the masses still astounds me.

but there are a few things that Rockwell managed to capture.  the aprons, bobby pins and ancient clothing fashion trends are gone, but the feelings he painted are timeless.

like, that family that is so easy to take for granted- they're there.  sometimes that's good, and sometimes you just have to laugh, knowing that one day you'll look back and be thankful that memory is so far past.  the Walk is one of those.  i love how it was during that exact timeframe, when my fingernails were legit blue and my shirt soaked, that 3 of my favorite extra-familial people called or texted to check in on me.  one real-time selfie answered all their questions.  but they were there for me, too, just like family of a different sort, and part of what we celebrate even if the celebrating appears to be lost in all the chaos. and i got a lot to celebrate.

i got sister time- long, late hours of it.  i got brother time- short and brief, but still there.  i will get, soon, my own personal copy of The Webb Family Picture, which is another tradition, and another moment to laugh about- later.  much, much later.  i got moments with some pretty great people that i haven't seen in ages, and even a few more pictures for proof that we were in the same place at the same time! i got 20+ hours of driving time, time spent singing loudly for nobody to hear, time spend to pray, time spent just to be quiet, still, breathe.  i got Pilot coffee.  i got to relive memories of some of my favorite people ever who now live all up and down I-40, as i passed their towns and cities.

we're all pretty good at complaining, but i gotta say we do know how to celebrate the good things, and maybe once i've recovered from the Walk in about a year, i'll once more join those crazies barreling down I-40 to do this all over again.

to remember- the good, the bad/weird/confusing/embarrassing.  to celebrate- freedom, family (all kinds of family, not just biological), food (stay away from my drumstick).  

i'll be the one hugging that old handicapped, speed-demon lady's bumper.

two birthdays at once!

i'm sitting here in the living room on the largest couch ever, staring at a 6-foot Christmas tree plastered with all the decorations we could get from Goodwill, with strings of lights around the walls that just take this experience to a whole new magical level.

i know people are "supposed" to wait until after Thanksgiving before it's proper to play Christmas music or decorate, but this is plenty close enough for me.  my roomie has friends over to help decorate anyway, so now that the hard work is done we are watching our favorite Christmas flick- Elf.  yup. it's okay to be jealous.

i'm not usually too much into holidays, but there really is something about Christmas. i've heard all about how Jesus couldn't possibly have been born in December, and how the Wise Men couldn't possibly have made it until Jesus was 2 year old and back at home (although i heard the theory that they had a head start and actually were at the stable in Bethlehem. either way, i'm easy), but however the whole thing went down, the point is that- it went down.  it actually happened.  a larger-than-time Being somehow became a human, broke through time and space and landed in the middle of nowhere surrounded by an entire nation of people worn out after 400 years of oppression and spiritual darkness.  Christmas set off  the hugest thing to ever happen to earth.  all so that we could do what we were meant to do- give God the glory He deserves through the relationship soon to be restored.

now that's the kind of birthday that you celebrate every chance you get, even weeks in advance.  if Hobby Lobby can keep their ornaments out on shelves since July, then if we made it almost to Thanksgiving before Elf, i think we're doing pretty well.

now, this year- today in particular- i'm a bit more sentimental towards birthdays, mostly because His birthday is the only reason i'm celebrating my own birthday today as well.

it's been 5 years.  not everybody gets to turn 5 twice, and even fewer remember when they did- either time.  i've got a lot of memories that i'd be okay with not ever remembering, but there's one at least that i hope to hold on to forever.  forever and ever, if i can help it.  it's the one good memory that blots out the others i don't need.  after so many years of struggle and doubt and debate and confusion that were all pointing me straight to my own grave, there were a handful of faithful friends who fought back, quite valiantly, because i wasn't really able to fight.  i was a bit useless, i must say, so i'm glad i was surrounded by people who had all their spiritual armor on. 

so every year, this day in particular, i like to just chill.  and remember.  and say thank you. to the friends, to the family, to the church, all of whom God used to work out a plan as huge on the personal level as the first Christmas was on a world-wide level.  He rocked my world that day, and i just think it's awesome how so many others were able to share in it. so:

To FBCJ (in particular) but my whole Church family (in general):

it's been 5 years since a scared hopeless little lamb  entered the Fold and accidentally became a member of FBCJ. not once have i ever regretted that- there were just other things on my mind that day ;)

this Thanksgiving season, there's not much i'm more thankful for than my church family.  i've been given a biological family, a work family, and a church family, and am blessed to have some people a part of more than one of them. the FBCJ crew is the local subset of a much larger group who are included in my thanks, my memories, my thoughts.

to reiterate what the pastor and several others said last week,

thank you.

thank you for being the ones who listened, prayed, cried, spoke.

thank you for sharing your lives, thoughts, families, Cubbies, food, homes, time, love.

thank you for opening your arms, your doors, your hearts.

for being there when no one else was,

for walking beside me when i couldn't stand

for praying when i had no more words to say,

for always, always, always pointing straight to the Cross

for showing me the Jesus i'd heard of but never seen before, and

and for continuing to do so ever since. 

the end :)

sticks and stones and dead men's bones

I love those moments when a thought just pops up, a question just burns in your brain, or a revelation suddenly arises that makes you smile.  these moments, for me anyway, are rare, which i guess is part of why they're so special.

good glory, i hope this makes sense to whoever reads it.

I was considering again moments from my past and how in so many ways, for so many years i was nothing more than a modern-day Pharisee.  my early life revolved around following rules, codes, standards and policies that would make any Saul of Tarsus proud.  we would have had to add a whole second row of tassels on our robes, and heaven forbid we not tithe every single penny we received from our weekly allowance, which when we were 5 years old, was 25 cents.  so we were also good at math- which is a given (i forget which tab "homeschool" fits under- i think either "standards" or "codes"- but included was the Thou Shalt Succeed decree.  failure was not an option). we were filled with guilt if we forgot to tithe, do our morning devotions (because to do it in the evenings, or even after breakfast was classified as "wrong"), or even have too much Apple Cinnamon Cheerios with our plain Cheerios.  like the front-row Pharisees of old, we were generally applauded by peers and looked up to in our teeny tiny Christian community as being role-models. 

and also like the front-row Pharisees of old, i was even more tangled than those tassels, caught up in the little things but missing the big picture.  missing it entirely.  everything good about the Gospel buried under the rulebooks. plagued by doubt, fear of failure, shame, the need to please others, justification through the Law of Moses.  and the Law of Mom.  i'm not even sure which one i held in higher regard, to be honest.

so, just like the front-row Pharisees, i turned into a blind and bitter "Christian," with no answers for the situations i was trying to fix but couldn't.

in one of the last discourses Jesus gave in Jerusalem, in that last week before his impending execution, Jesus suddenly goes off on those front-row Pharisees, ripping to shreds their rules, codes, standards and policies.  he calls them children of hell.  a brood of vipers. hypocrites. blind guides. 

whitewashed tombs. absolutely stunning on the outside, gorgeous rocks, gardens, plants, probably markers or nameplates to remember their loved ones locked away inside.  on the inside, well, there are the loved ones' bones.  corruption. decay.  germs galore. a stench to turn even this nurse's stomach.

…

umm.  yeah.  Jesus said that. to the front-row, super-spiritual religious elites.  a tomb. a pretty vessel chock full of DEATH.

you're probably looking for the encouraging part now, right?  good- here it is.

i just went back and confirmed the timing on this speech of his, and when i flipped back and forth a couple times between Matthew 23 and John 10 and 11, you see something pretty cool.

immediately before the Triumphant Entry, something absolutely epic happens.

he receives word that one of his best friends in the town of Bethany (2 miles away from Jerusalem, and one of Jesus' stopping points) in on his deathbed and Jesus' healing is required immediately. 

so Jesus….doesn't go.  he waits. for 2 whole days.

Lazarus, unknown to the messenger, is probably already dead before Jesus hears of this, because by the time Jesus shows up the mourning is in full swing and the body has already been cleaned, prepared and locked in the grave for 4 days.

Lazarus's sisters, Mary and Martha, both have separate conversations with Jesus on his arrival.  Jesus asks to see Lazarus's body, and Mary, full of grief, confusion, impeccable common sense, says, "Eww. Jesus, that's gross."

Martha had already run out to meet him, and also to question why he refused to come earlier to save them from this incredible pain. 

Jesus then takes this fantastic opportunity to boot her faith up several levels and tells her :

"your brother will rise again."

Martha said to him, "i know that he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day."

Jesus said to her, "I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die."(John 11: 23-27)

then He walks right up to that beautiful tomb full of a dead man's bones, convinces several hesitant guys to roll the stone away, and then demands that those dead man's bones get up and walk on out.  and they do. 

the Resurrection had come.

a short amount of time later, that Resurrection was in the Jews' religious center- Jerusalem, speaking to a synagogue's worth of tombs, calling them what they were, angry at their sin, condemning it, calling it out.

but just as importantly, offering life to any of those dead bones who would step out and receive it.  

He's shouting out: HEY!! you're DEAD!  but true life is LITERALLY RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU!!

i have very little doubt that many of those Pharisees hearing that speech hadn't heard about Lazarus.  a bunch of them were likely there at the tomb and had witnessed firsthand what happens when Jesus gets too close to graves and talks to them.  those who weren't there, were told immediately by those who were (John 11:45-47).  the whole episode at Lazarus' re-birthday was meant to bring the spiritually dead to a new spiritual life, just as his speech to them in Jerusalem days later, with this miracle fresh in their minds. 

i remember that day when, -after months of wrestling together through these incredibly difficult issues and circumstances surrounding me, shedding tears and prayers, talking and listening- my pastor and i had reached a point where he called my salvation into question, citing as proof the guilt, anger, self-righteousness and pride that had become so evident.  and i suddenly, immediately felt the immense burden of sin- MY sin- that i'd never realized before.   i looked down that night at my shaking hands wringing out another tissue and envisioned the blood dripping off them, the spiritual death i'd caused, how far i had strayed.  how much sin could be covered up and made to look oh-so-spiritual.  how the mask of religious piety was nothing more than a death mask, hiding the corpse of a soul lurking underneath.  i was a whitewashed tomb, choking on all the crud that filled me up.

but that calling-out wasn't just a judgment.  it was an invitation. this tomb's bones were finally ready to be introduced to the Resurrection and to be summoned from the depths of the grave, out into the light.  i knew the theology and was kinda ticked by Jesus' timing, just like Martha.  i had so many questions i wanted answers to, just like Mary. i had a stone-cold heart and eyes blinder than a bat, just like a Pharisee. 

but the Resurrection had come.  to me.  called me by name.  and i changed from a Pharisee, a Saul, a tomb, into a Lazarus, a Mary, a Martha with eyes opened now to a whole new life.

cool things happen when Jesus talks to rocks. and if there are any other front-row Pharisees out there, i hope you hear him calling you out of your tombstone, too.

your Resurrection is here.  it's calling.  are you going to remain inside your whitewashed tomb or are you going to step out when you hear your Resurrection and Life beckoning you?