Add a few more to the things I'm glad I did even though I wasn't sure I would be glad.
1. Pushed it to the top of Rattlesnake Ledge. AMAZING VIEW. (and not even sore the next day! I pretty much rocked that one.)
2. Bought my daughter a round trip ticket to London even though I subscribe to the notion that families should at least stay on the same CONTINENT. (her overflowing joy and excitment is pretty hard to miss...priceless to me.)
3. Went to see Megadeth with Eric...wasn't sure 45 year old moms would fit in but rocked that one too. :) (well rocked may be a stretch but I didn't embarrass Eric at least.)
4. Survived Hebrew, even got a B+.
And lastly, continue to find my way into a future that is far different than I anticipated but is no less surrounded with Grace. Thanks be to God for the things we do even when we didn't ever think we could or would...whether we think we rock them or not, He always does.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Pentecost
When they heard this sound, a crowd came together in bewilderment, because each one heard their own language being spoken. Utterly amazed, they asked: “Aren’t all these who are speaking Galileans? Then how is it that each of us hears them in our native language?" Acts 2:6-8
They were utterly amazed! When the Holy Spirit came like a rushing wind each one heard in their own language. That must have been incredible. Can you imagine what it would feel like to know that your own language, not just that of your speech but of your heart, was truly understood and truly spoken in return to you? The exciting news of Pentecost is still pretty incredible. The Holy Spirit knows us, intimately, speaks the language of our verbal words and of our heart, even the heart language for which we have no words.
This is a very comforting concept for me and further reason to fall yet deeper in love with this Sacred Mystery that seems very ready to lift me to my feet time and again. This Sunday is really significant this year. Once again the church celebrates the generous gift of the Holy Spirit and our church often has a brass choir to help with that celebration. Chris used to play in that brass choir and it's been hard some Sundays to hear them play and see his absence. This year, however, I get to watch my son take that spot. Eric will be playing brass on Sunday and the Holy Spirit will speak the language of his heart, of Emily's heart and of mine...along with each of yours.
My prayer is for you to find some bewilderment in that knowledge and that awareness. About three years ago, I read the book The Shack. It was a challenge for me not because of its hard questions about when hard things happen but because it stretched me in my images of God. I've changed a LOT since then and I now embrace the image of the Holy Spirit in that book. I won't spoil the plot for those of you who haven't read it but one image sticks with me, was with me in the hospital and has been with me in the hardest moments and in some of the happiest ones. That image is this "the Holy Spirit loves to collect tears." I imagine a few will be collected on Sunday when Eric plays. They are collected every time I hug one of my kids, when I listen to them begin once again to dream big dreams for the future. They are also collected when I sit in those silent moments and trust that Pentecost news, that the Holy Spirit speaks my language, one that is all my very own. Rejoice this Sunday, dream big and be heard...that same Spirit knows your language too.
Grace for your journey,
Leigh
They were utterly amazed! When the Holy Spirit came like a rushing wind each one heard in their own language. That must have been incredible. Can you imagine what it would feel like to know that your own language, not just that of your speech but of your heart, was truly understood and truly spoken in return to you? The exciting news of Pentecost is still pretty incredible. The Holy Spirit knows us, intimately, speaks the language of our verbal words and of our heart, even the heart language for which we have no words.
This is a very comforting concept for me and further reason to fall yet deeper in love with this Sacred Mystery that seems very ready to lift me to my feet time and again. This Sunday is really significant this year. Once again the church celebrates the generous gift of the Holy Spirit and our church often has a brass choir to help with that celebration. Chris used to play in that brass choir and it's been hard some Sundays to hear them play and see his absence. This year, however, I get to watch my son take that spot. Eric will be playing brass on Sunday and the Holy Spirit will speak the language of his heart, of Emily's heart and of mine...along with each of yours.
My prayer is for you to find some bewilderment in that knowledge and that awareness. About three years ago, I read the book The Shack. It was a challenge for me not because of its hard questions about when hard things happen but because it stretched me in my images of God. I've changed a LOT since then and I now embrace the image of the Holy Spirit in that book. I won't spoil the plot for those of you who haven't read it but one image sticks with me, was with me in the hospital and has been with me in the hardest moments and in some of the happiest ones. That image is this "the Holy Spirit loves to collect tears." I imagine a few will be collected on Sunday when Eric plays. They are collected every time I hug one of my kids, when I listen to them begin once again to dream big dreams for the future. They are also collected when I sit in those silent moments and trust that Pentecost news, that the Holy Spirit speaks my language, one that is all my very own. Rejoice this Sunday, dream big and be heard...that same Spirit knows your language too.
Grace for your journey,
Leigh
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Discomfort
It's been two months since I've written here. I don't know why precisely although I can create a litany of seemingly valid reasons, school demands more and more attention, I find myself more deeply involved in a few of my church commitments, I work hard to create intentional time with my kids, the litany continues. What is more likely the case on some deeper level is that I have simply had nothing to share that could be formed in any meaningful and articulate way and my stream of conscious thought wasn't something I thought anyone would ever really want to read.
To update you briefly on our first year anniversary, we went to Disneyland for the day. It does sound kind of nuts on one hand, getting up in Seattle at four in the morning, flying to Disneyland and coming home fifteen hours later to sleep in our own beds. It's really all we had time for, given school and work for Emily etc. It was meaningful, more than I can express actually. Chris' laughter will forever be etched in the walls of Space Mountain so going there to hear it was important. We left rainy grayness and found Southern Californian sunshine, complete with thriving orange trees in the California Adventure side of Disneyland. Kids soaked up much needed Vitamin D, something in short supply naturally in our winters and I soaked up that and a plethora of theological and psychological significance to just about everything in the park. In the end it was simply hard not to smile a lot. I felt Chris' nod of approval, even at the absurdity of spending the money to fly that far of a round trip for one day. 9:51 p.m., the exact time of his passing, found us on an Alaska Air flight somewhere over Oregon most likely, heading back to Seattle, holding hands, remembering and finding some okay-ness.
I've been learning about discomfort and self-consciousness a lot lately. I have plenty of both, like most of I suppose. I have felt increasingly challenged to confront both of these concepts. So, I'm trying to open up to precisely the very things that challenge my comfort level...emergent types of worship (something seminary is filled with), new ways of thinking about how different people come into relationship with God and even Tai Chi, something that I have been totally closed off to because I simply thought I looked so retarded trying it that I couldn't get past that in my head enough to live into the experience. I'm not fully there yet but I'm learning.
Along the way, I've pulled out my bible, partly for the lectio divinio way of reading it, letting it be the organic form that it is and come to ME instead of me having somehow to master it. That's been tremendously rich to my devotional time. The other thing I have done is open myself a little more to the last book of the New Testament a little more deeply. With the help of a book by Eugene Peterson, that is something I will be sharing a little more of here in this venue. When Chris first passed on, I defaulted to my favorite books of the Bible, Psalms, Jeremiah and Lamentations. They were very comforting. And I have long been made uncomfortable by Revelation, mainly because I've struggled to understand it. But in this theme of being open to discomfort and of my deep desire to stay aware and open to the incredible Church Triumphant, I am learning that being uncomfortable is a good indication that you are growing.
And so I'd like to invite you into some thought about the meaning of holiness, of the Church Triumphant, of heaven, of the very kingdom of God and into learning to live with discomfort. We'll see where this goes and I'll try not to let two months lapse before I share more of what I am learning.
Grace for your journey,
Leigh
To update you briefly on our first year anniversary, we went to Disneyland for the day. It does sound kind of nuts on one hand, getting up in Seattle at four in the morning, flying to Disneyland and coming home fifteen hours later to sleep in our own beds. It's really all we had time for, given school and work for Emily etc. It was meaningful, more than I can express actually. Chris' laughter will forever be etched in the walls of Space Mountain so going there to hear it was important. We left rainy grayness and found Southern Californian sunshine, complete with thriving orange trees in the California Adventure side of Disneyland. Kids soaked up much needed Vitamin D, something in short supply naturally in our winters and I soaked up that and a plethora of theological and psychological significance to just about everything in the park. In the end it was simply hard not to smile a lot. I felt Chris' nod of approval, even at the absurdity of spending the money to fly that far of a round trip for one day. 9:51 p.m., the exact time of his passing, found us on an Alaska Air flight somewhere over Oregon most likely, heading back to Seattle, holding hands, remembering and finding some okay-ness.
I've been learning about discomfort and self-consciousness a lot lately. I have plenty of both, like most of I suppose. I have felt increasingly challenged to confront both of these concepts. So, I'm trying to open up to precisely the very things that challenge my comfort level...emergent types of worship (something seminary is filled with), new ways of thinking about how different people come into relationship with God and even Tai Chi, something that I have been totally closed off to because I simply thought I looked so retarded trying it that I couldn't get past that in my head enough to live into the experience. I'm not fully there yet but I'm learning.
Along the way, I've pulled out my bible, partly for the lectio divinio way of reading it, letting it be the organic form that it is and come to ME instead of me having somehow to master it. That's been tremendously rich to my devotional time. The other thing I have done is open myself a little more to the last book of the New Testament a little more deeply. With the help of a book by Eugene Peterson, that is something I will be sharing a little more of here in this venue. When Chris first passed on, I defaulted to my favorite books of the Bible, Psalms, Jeremiah and Lamentations. They were very comforting. And I have long been made uncomfortable by Revelation, mainly because I've struggled to understand it. But in this theme of being open to discomfort and of my deep desire to stay aware and open to the incredible Church Triumphant, I am learning that being uncomfortable is a good indication that you are growing.
And so I'd like to invite you into some thought about the meaning of holiness, of the Church Triumphant, of heaven, of the very kingdom of God and into learning to live with discomfort. We'll see where this goes and I'll try not to let two months lapse before I share more of what I am learning.
Grace for your journey,
Leigh
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
One Year Ago Tonight
If we discover a desire within us that nothing in this world can satisfy, also we should begin to wonder if perhaps we were created for another world. -C. S. Lewis, Mere Christianity
One year ago tonight I wrapped Chris up in my arms...he had just been taken off the ventilator and his iv's removed. He was safely in my arms with our babies at either side, snuggled in holding him with me. Obviously this has been very present in our hearts and spirits today and we've talked about it some and marked the day with some little special moments that would go unnoticed to most folks but have Weber significance. Emily shared with me in the car the other day something quite meaningful. She said, "I wasn't sure if I ever wanted to get married until last year, but when I watched you hold dad for a good 48 hours, rocking him, singing to him, praying with him, I knew then that marriage was something I wanted for myself one day." I only share this to illustrate a truth I have come to believe in greatly...every moment, even the hardest ones, are teachable moments and grace abounds and God is good.
I visited with my pastor today, he's just about the best at genuine pastoring of anyone I've ever known and he has an incredible ability to be present with you and simply hold your stuff and let it be okay. We talked about that portal that opens sometimes in life, when we feel so close to the Divine that we can almost touch and feel. It's that great cloud of witnesses, the Church Invisible and the absolute Presence of the Triune God that floods in when our spirits are stripped of everything and all of life is set aside. Holding Chris a year ago today, time stopped. Life and everyone and everything in it except for our family was set aside too. While I miss Chris still, quite terribly so, I long even more to touch on more and more of that Presence.
Chris receiving new life in Christ was the hardest moment of my life and yet oh so teachable. God really does fill in the empty spaces. He plants seeds and creates desires for deeper and deeper relationship with Him and all we have to do is lean in to that grace and trust the relationship. Two days after I first gathered him in my arms, my husband's body gave out and in a moment I became a widow. While I stopped being a wife, I know with total certainty I have not stopped being a sister in Christ to him. Chris is now in that very great cloud of witnesses that surrounds us, touching us, holding us and flooding us with Grace.
One year ago tonight I wrapped Chris up in my arms...and God wrapped us up in His. Thanks be to Him who really does keep us from falling.
Grace for your journey,
Leigh
One year ago tonight I wrapped Chris up in my arms...he had just been taken off the ventilator and his iv's removed. He was safely in my arms with our babies at either side, snuggled in holding him with me. Obviously this has been very present in our hearts and spirits today and we've talked about it some and marked the day with some little special moments that would go unnoticed to most folks but have Weber significance. Emily shared with me in the car the other day something quite meaningful. She said, "I wasn't sure if I ever wanted to get married until last year, but when I watched you hold dad for a good 48 hours, rocking him, singing to him, praying with him, I knew then that marriage was something I wanted for myself one day." I only share this to illustrate a truth I have come to believe in greatly...every moment, even the hardest ones, are teachable moments and grace abounds and God is good.
I visited with my pastor today, he's just about the best at genuine pastoring of anyone I've ever known and he has an incredible ability to be present with you and simply hold your stuff and let it be okay. We talked about that portal that opens sometimes in life, when we feel so close to the Divine that we can almost touch and feel. It's that great cloud of witnesses, the Church Invisible and the absolute Presence of the Triune God that floods in when our spirits are stripped of everything and all of life is set aside. Holding Chris a year ago today, time stopped. Life and everyone and everything in it except for our family was set aside too. While I miss Chris still, quite terribly so, I long even more to touch on more and more of that Presence.
Chris receiving new life in Christ was the hardest moment of my life and yet oh so teachable. God really does fill in the empty spaces. He plants seeds and creates desires for deeper and deeper relationship with Him and all we have to do is lean in to that grace and trust the relationship. Two days after I first gathered him in my arms, my husband's body gave out and in a moment I became a widow. While I stopped being a wife, I know with total certainty I have not stopped being a sister in Christ to him. Chris is now in that very great cloud of witnesses that surrounds us, touching us, holding us and flooding us with Grace.
One year ago tonight I wrapped Chris up in my arms...and God wrapped us up in His. Thanks be to Him who really does keep us from falling.
Grace for your journey,
Leigh
Saturday, January 1, 2011
New Year
Grace for your journey,
Leigh
Monday, December 20, 2010
December 20th!
Happy Anniversary Chris! Twenty-four years!
The kids are taking me to dinner, we'll take in some jazz too and we're going to S.A.M. for the Picasso exhibit. I'll miss you terribly, as I always do but I do so rejoice with you. You remind me daily of the Promise that is each of ours.
Loving you always!
Your sister in our very present Christ,
Leigh
The kids are taking me to dinner, we'll take in some jazz too and we're going to S.A.M. for the Picasso exhibit. I'll miss you terribly, as I always do but I do so rejoice with you. You remind me daily of the Promise that is each of ours.
Loving you always!
Your sister in our very present Christ,
Leigh
Friday, December 17, 2010
Big Band Dance
Monday, December 13, 2010
Staying Open
It was nine months last Saturday. I meant to post a blog but life and busy-ness and Eric's homework were all vying for my attention too. We're three quarters of the way through the first year. In some ways it's still very surreal at moments. In some ways I can't believe how far we have come. We've grown a lot, we're closer to one another, we've each changed. Those awkward, awful weekends of early on have been replaced with a growing normalcy. Fourteen will never be what it might have been for Eric but I also appreciate greatly the maturity and deepening of his spirit. And college stuff is in perspective for Emily in ways I don't remember at her age. So we've grown.
I think I have fallen deeper in love with God than I ever knew I could fall. It's almost as if God simply stretched open my heart and whispered into it, "you have no idea how I can fill this space if you only stay open to Me." And that's my biggest take-away in life thus far...stay open. Stay open even when you think you already have a pretty good idea about things, stay open when it looks scary or filled with hurt, stay open at all costs because Grace enters the open doors in life far faster than closed ones, into which Grace must push and knock repeatedly.
A week from today would have been our twenty-fourth wedding anniversary, five days later is Christmas and it is into that reality that I find myself yearning to stay open. Leaning in to Grace, realizing that God is so much bigger than I can imagine, that God has my children in His care far more tangibly than I can myself and surrendering them in their tender years and their grief to Him. Parenting is far more about praying than anything, not for God to DO something as much as for God to remind me they are His more than they are mine, something mothers work a little harder to accept at times, I think. Still, there is a freedom in that acceptance.
And so we stay open, as individuals, as a family...and God just floods the space.
Grace for your journey,
Leigh
I think I have fallen deeper in love with God than I ever knew I could fall. It's almost as if God simply stretched open my heart and whispered into it, "you have no idea how I can fill this space if you only stay open to Me." And that's my biggest take-away in life thus far...stay open. Stay open even when you think you already have a pretty good idea about things, stay open when it looks scary or filled with hurt, stay open at all costs because Grace enters the open doors in life far faster than closed ones, into which Grace must push and knock repeatedly.
A week from today would have been our twenty-fourth wedding anniversary, five days later is Christmas and it is into that reality that I find myself yearning to stay open. Leaning in to Grace, realizing that God is so much bigger than I can imagine, that God has my children in His care far more tangibly than I can myself and surrendering them in their tender years and their grief to Him. Parenting is far more about praying than anything, not for God to DO something as much as for God to remind me they are His more than they are mine, something mothers work a little harder to accept at times, I think. Still, there is a freedom in that acceptance.
And so we stay open, as individuals, as a family...and God just floods the space.
Grace for your journey,
Leigh
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Puzzles
Last year it was the Seattle skyline and he didn't feel much up to helping. Between the months of chemo and then radiation afterwards, Chris was simply too tired to help with the jigsaw puzzle. We've had one every year. During that time when the academic quarter ends and as we head into Christmas we just seem to gravitate to the slowed down pace of a jigsaw puzzle amidst all the other things of life.
Chris had Job's patience for them, I had enthusiasm but I was pretty terrible at organizing them. I always got the border done and then he would find his way over to the table and begin this process of fitting pieces that I plain couldn't see or didn't work hard enough to see. Like in so much of our life Chris brought patience and a methodical determination. Last year he offered encouragement from the recliner but I was still pretty much on my own with it and that felt a bit weird. It also took longer that way. Still, Chris had imparted a desire to learn patience in me and I managed to get it finished before the new year.
Little did I know the ways in which God would be preparing me to face the coming year and everything it held. Like always, however, God is at work keeping a covenant with me, writing a story and remaining totally faithful. And so I poured the pieces of this year's puzzle out on the table, it's a map of the ancient world. Somehow I think Chris would approve of the choice, it's got both kids engaged in the history of it.
Like my life, the pieces of the puzzle are fitting together in places, offering glimpses of something greater. Chris witnessed to me the value of patience and God has lovingly and consistently taught the lesson to me for years, especially during this last one.
December offers so many opportunities for "grief moments," a phrase the kids and I use for the official calling of a time out in our house. Our anniversary is on the twentieth, there's obviously Christmas and more poignantly Christmas Eve, which will mark a year to the day since Chris was last in church. He had been unable to get there after then, exhausted from radiation. He sang every word of the Hallelujah Chorus at the end of the service, you would have never known how sick he was then because he sang with an enthusiasm and love of God that was palpable.
And so the dining room table is adorned with a jigsaw puzzle, pieces waiting for a patient hand, something I learned from Chris and God. I am grateful that God is patient with me as well.
Grace for your journey,
Leigh
Chris had Job's patience for them, I had enthusiasm but I was pretty terrible at organizing them. I always got the border done and then he would find his way over to the table and begin this process of fitting pieces that I plain couldn't see or didn't work hard enough to see. Like in so much of our life Chris brought patience and a methodical determination. Last year he offered encouragement from the recliner but I was still pretty much on my own with it and that felt a bit weird. It also took longer that way. Still, Chris had imparted a desire to learn patience in me and I managed to get it finished before the new year.
Little did I know the ways in which God would be preparing me to face the coming year and everything it held. Like always, however, God is at work keeping a covenant with me, writing a story and remaining totally faithful. And so I poured the pieces of this year's puzzle out on the table, it's a map of the ancient world. Somehow I think Chris would approve of the choice, it's got both kids engaged in the history of it.
Like my life, the pieces of the puzzle are fitting together in places, offering glimpses of something greater. Chris witnessed to me the value of patience and God has lovingly and consistently taught the lesson to me for years, especially during this last one.
December offers so many opportunities for "grief moments," a phrase the kids and I use for the official calling of a time out in our house. Our anniversary is on the twentieth, there's obviously Christmas and more poignantly Christmas Eve, which will mark a year to the day since Chris was last in church. He had been unable to get there after then, exhausted from radiation. He sang every word of the Hallelujah Chorus at the end of the service, you would have never known how sick he was then because he sang with an enthusiasm and love of God that was palpable.
And so the dining room table is adorned with a jigsaw puzzle, pieces waiting for a patient hand, something I learned from Chris and God. I am grateful that God is patient with me as well.
Grace for your journey,
Leigh
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Thanksgiving
Pumpkin pies are cooling, the tree is up. Pajama clad kids are still nestled in their beds, 19 and 14 but looking especially innocent and sweet to me this year. It's early Thanksgiving morning and I'm very present with the thoughts of all the many Thanksgivings in my past.
Chris was a perfect southern gentleman when it came to appreciating good food and he made over my dinners each year like we were dining at the nicest of restaurants, telling me he couldn't take in another bite but always finding room for a bit more. Then he would doze in his chair with one eye on a football game and one on the kids and I miss that.
Life changes. We're facing a day without him, our first significant holiday and everything is tempered with that awareness. When we finished cleaning up last night, Eric said I can see Dad sitting right here, looking at this Disneyland picture of Emily and me and getting that smile and slight laugh that he would get. Then a couple of tears streamed. I said I missed him too and Emily was right on my heels, yelling from her room that she did too. So we stopped everything we were doing and met grief right there, where it once again screamed for instant attention, this time speaking first to Eric but engaging us all. We all knew it but we hadn't said it out loud just yet.
I love that we can be real. Grief is real and saying it hurts is real. Being able to pick up a picture and cry that your Dad can't see it too is real. Being real and honest and allowing the waves of grief to wax and wane and to be felt is how we live now. And God meets us in it, right where we are.
So today is Thanksgiving and we ARE thankful because the blessings are bountiful in our lives. Yes we miss him, yes we face hard moments but Chris' life now is this very real testimony to the Sacred Promise. And the smell of pumpkin pie hangs heavy in our home, a reminder that we are a family taking a little more time for gratitude today. Once again, God draws us close and the Mysterious Divine says it's all okay, we are a part of an eternal story...and for that we give thanks.
Grace for your journey,
Leigh
Chris was a perfect southern gentleman when it came to appreciating good food and he made over my dinners each year like we were dining at the nicest of restaurants, telling me he couldn't take in another bite but always finding room for a bit more. Then he would doze in his chair with one eye on a football game and one on the kids and I miss that.
Life changes. We're facing a day without him, our first significant holiday and everything is tempered with that awareness. When we finished cleaning up last night, Eric said I can see Dad sitting right here, looking at this Disneyland picture of Emily and me and getting that smile and slight laugh that he would get. Then a couple of tears streamed. I said I missed him too and Emily was right on my heels, yelling from her room that she did too. So we stopped everything we were doing and met grief right there, where it once again screamed for instant attention, this time speaking first to Eric but engaging us all. We all knew it but we hadn't said it out loud just yet.
I love that we can be real. Grief is real and saying it hurts is real. Being able to pick up a picture and cry that your Dad can't see it too is real. Being real and honest and allowing the waves of grief to wax and wane and to be felt is how we live now. And God meets us in it, right where we are.
So today is Thanksgiving and we ARE thankful because the blessings are bountiful in our lives. Yes we miss him, yes we face hard moments but Chris' life now is this very real testimony to the Sacred Promise. And the smell of pumpkin pie hangs heavy in our home, a reminder that we are a family taking a little more time for gratitude today. Once again, God draws us close and the Mysterious Divine says it's all okay, we are a part of an eternal story...and for that we give thanks.
Grace for your journey,
Leigh
Friday, November 19, 2010
Ornaments
I found the ornaments. They were packed away in the back of the closet under the stairs. I knew they would be in there, that's where they have always been stored, for the last seventeen years in fact. Thanksgiving has just kind of snuck up on us this year and that's the day we put up and decorate our tree.
In December of 1985, Chris and I were dating and approaching our first Christmas. He didn't have a lot of money, I didn't have any more than he did so we went for a walk through the woods behind his Grandmother's house to cut down a cedar tree to bring back inside and decorate. We bought some lights and one pack of ornaments but the little tree still looked pretty empty so I went through some things at home until I found a few things to make some homemade ornaments for his/our tree. Chris was so sweetly grateful and gave those little creations of mine far more praise than they deserved.
A year later in December of 1986, just days after our wedding we put up our Christmas tree and Chris brought out the ornaments he had saved from the year before...the ones I had made. And every year those ornaments are lovingly placed on our tree, a reminder of that first Christmas, merely 19 and 22 years old and with lots more Christmas spirit than earthly money.
Amidst the smell of turkey and pumpkin pie, warmly tucked inside of our home amidst the cold drizzle (and possibly snow this year) of a Seattle Thanksgiving, those same ornaments will once again find their place on our tree. They will be joined once again by little teddy bears, ten in all, marking the first five Christmases of both Emily and Eric. They will be joined by lots of other ornaments representing the life of a family including a golden key from 1993, our first house. This year we will also hang a lovely angel, carved in wood by a woman at my childhood church in North Carolina, with Chris' name and 1963-2010 written upon it. I think we will hang that one last...completing this year's tree.
I found the ornaments...packed under the stairs...a box full of the history of this family.
Grace for your journey,
Leigh
In December of 1985, Chris and I were dating and approaching our first Christmas. He didn't have a lot of money, I didn't have any more than he did so we went for a walk through the woods behind his Grandmother's house to cut down a cedar tree to bring back inside and decorate. We bought some lights and one pack of ornaments but the little tree still looked pretty empty so I went through some things at home until I found a few things to make some homemade ornaments for his/our tree. Chris was so sweetly grateful and gave those little creations of mine far more praise than they deserved.
A year later in December of 1986, just days after our wedding we put up our Christmas tree and Chris brought out the ornaments he had saved from the year before...the ones I had made. And every year those ornaments are lovingly placed on our tree, a reminder of that first Christmas, merely 19 and 22 years old and with lots more Christmas spirit than earthly money.
Amidst the smell of turkey and pumpkin pie, warmly tucked inside of our home amidst the cold drizzle (and possibly snow this year) of a Seattle Thanksgiving, those same ornaments will once again find their place on our tree. They will be joined once again by little teddy bears, ten in all, marking the first five Christmases of both Emily and Eric. They will be joined by lots of other ornaments representing the life of a family including a golden key from 1993, our first house. This year we will also hang a lovely angel, carved in wood by a woman at my childhood church in North Carolina, with Chris' name and 1963-2010 written upon it. I think we will hang that one last...completing this year's tree.
I found the ornaments...packed under the stairs...a box full of the history of this family.
Grace for your journey,
Leigh
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Eight Months
Still missing.
Still celebrating the blessing he received.
Still changing.
Still a family.
Still celebrating the blessing he received.
Still changing.
Still a family.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
The Power of a Name
Grief is a really funny thing. It slips up at moments demanding attention like a stubborn toddler. And like that toddler, it rearranges things a bit, yes you may be cooking dinner but I want your attention NOW and I'm going to demand it to the point that you have to pause and at least take notice. A dear friend grieving the loss of his mother related a story of being instantly teary when the clock struck 12:34 at his house one day, a reminder of his mom's dying breaths. A woman at church shared with me the teary moment when her finger rubbed past a chip on a plate that was made by her late husband dropping it. We ALL do this kind of thing, it's the nature of grief. To mourn is to do the work that grief stands there demanding, even though you had other plans for that moment.
I wonder why it's not the bigger things that present such moments, but the seemingly innocuous. A yard filled with leaves to be raked (Chris' job) doesn't seem to phase us, after all that's also a source of exercise and we just rake them. Trash cans and recycling bins put out and gathered in each week, again formerly Chris' job, just get handled because that's what we do. His wedding ring on my hand, another on Emily's, a watch on Eric's wrist, all of these things have been incorporated into who we are now and feel like normal life. So what is this thing about grief standing there with something as innocent as an article on the OP/ED page of the paper that I just KNOW he would love as I am half reading and half making dinner. The toddler screams! "Pay attention to me and do it NOW." Tears drip, a son notices, a hug is given, a daughter comes in, now a group hug and then memories come pouring out. "Yes Dad would like that article but he would have so liked this show on the History Channel last night, let me tell you about it..." "I was on campus today and I ran across a colleague of Dad's and I thought about how the last time I talked to her I was with him..."
Where did our intense, almost explosive grief outpourings of late March and April go? We spent Friday night after Friday night either crying or at Dairy Queen. We didn't finish making dinner and move straight into homework back then, I think we were living off ice cream on some of the worst nights. So what happened?
I've always been fascinated by mythic writing and how the quest is always to learn the name. Learning the name of something or someone ends up giving you the power in those kinds of stories. It invites an intimacy of discovery in which the thing or person that once held all the cards no longer has total power over you. That's the walk of grief. The kids and I have been on a quest of sorts, on a journey...to learn the name. And in learning to name grief, it's power lessens. Do I still miss Chris horribly? YES. Do I daily see what the kids and I have lost? YES. But I know grief's name now and I am actually surprisingly grateful for what it has taught me and how it has transformed me.
It is the power of story. It is the power of the name. And throughout, it is the power of God and engaging in an ever deepening intimacy with our Mysterious Author.
Grace for your journey,
Leigh
I wonder why it's not the bigger things that present such moments, but the seemingly innocuous. A yard filled with leaves to be raked (Chris' job) doesn't seem to phase us, after all that's also a source of exercise and we just rake them. Trash cans and recycling bins put out and gathered in each week, again formerly Chris' job, just get handled because that's what we do. His wedding ring on my hand, another on Emily's, a watch on Eric's wrist, all of these things have been incorporated into who we are now and feel like normal life. So what is this thing about grief standing there with something as innocent as an article on the OP/ED page of the paper that I just KNOW he would love as I am half reading and half making dinner. The toddler screams! "Pay attention to me and do it NOW." Tears drip, a son notices, a hug is given, a daughter comes in, now a group hug and then memories come pouring out. "Yes Dad would like that article but he would have so liked this show on the History Channel last night, let me tell you about it..." "I was on campus today and I ran across a colleague of Dad's and I thought about how the last time I talked to her I was with him..."
Where did our intense, almost explosive grief outpourings of late March and April go? We spent Friday night after Friday night either crying or at Dairy Queen. We didn't finish making dinner and move straight into homework back then, I think we were living off ice cream on some of the worst nights. So what happened?
I've always been fascinated by mythic writing and how the quest is always to learn the name. Learning the name of something or someone ends up giving you the power in those kinds of stories. It invites an intimacy of discovery in which the thing or person that once held all the cards no longer has total power over you. That's the walk of grief. The kids and I have been on a quest of sorts, on a journey...to learn the name. And in learning to name grief, it's power lessens. Do I still miss Chris horribly? YES. Do I daily see what the kids and I have lost? YES. But I know grief's name now and I am actually surprisingly grateful for what it has taught me and how it has transformed me.
It is the power of story. It is the power of the name. And throughout, it is the power of God and engaging in an ever deepening intimacy with our Mysterious Author.
Grace for your journey,
Leigh
Monday, November 1, 2010
For All the Saints
For all the saints, who from their labors rest,
Who Thee by faith before the world confessed,
Thy Name, O Jesus, be forever blest.
Alleluia, Alleluia!
Thou was their Rock, their Fortress, and their Might;
Thou, Lord, their Captain in the well-fought fight;
Thou in the darkness drear, their one true Light.
Alleluia, Alleluia!
O blest communion, fellowship divine!
We feebly struggle, they in glory shine;
Yet all are one in Thee, for all are Thine.
Alleluia, Alleluia!
From earth's wide bounds, from ocean's farthest coast,
Though gates of pearl streams in the countless host,
Singing to Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,
Alleluia, Alleluia!
Who Thee by faith before the world confessed,
Thy Name, O Jesus, be forever blest.
Alleluia, Alleluia!
Thou was their Rock, their Fortress, and their Might;
Thou, Lord, their Captain in the well-fought fight;
Thou in the darkness drear, their one true Light.
Alleluia, Alleluia!
O blest communion, fellowship divine!
We feebly struggle, they in glory shine;
Yet all are one in Thee, for all are Thine.
Alleluia, Alleluia!
From earth's wide bounds, from ocean's farthest coast,
Though gates of pearl streams in the countless host,
Singing to Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,
Alleluia, Alleluia!
Thursday, October 28, 2010
All Saint's Day
Sunday is special, it's All Saint's Day, Reformation Day and Chris' name will be read as one of the saints that was born into the new life in Christ during this past year. We are fortunate to have a church that streams its services live on Sunday mornings. So, for those of you not in Seattle, both the bulletin and the link to the 10:00 a.m. PDT service are on the website
http://www.upc.org/
Chris LOVED the hymn "For All the Saints" and it will also be sung at UPC. This particular Sunday tugs at the Moravian roots of this Presbyterian woman and I am reminded of mine and Chris' even more favorite hymn which I share here for your contemplation in prelude to our universal celebration of the Church Triumphant.
The graves of all His saints Christ blest, And softened every bed;
Where should the dying members rest, But with the dying Head?
Thence He arose, no more to die, And showed our feet the way
To follow Him, enthroned on high, At the great rising day.
Then let the last loud trumpet sound And bid our kindred rise.
Awake, ye nations underground; Ye saints, ascend the skies.
And from the liturgy of the Moravian Church for All Saints Day:
Let the great cloud of witnesses, the unnumerable company of those who have gone before and entered into rest, be to us an example of godly life. May we, with patience, run the race that is set before us, looking unto Jesus, the Author and Finisher of our faith; and obtain an entrance into the everlasting kingdom, and with the glorious assembly of saints, worship and adore Thee, through Jesus Christ, our Lord. Amen!
Thanks and praise to our Lord Jesus Christ for the Church Triumphant, the truly glorious cloud of witnesses surrounding us and for the Presence that is ours even in this life. At almost eight months after the most stunningly hard moment of my life I say with complete assurance that we worship a loving and good and very present God. He is indeed both Mystery and Lover of our souls and we are a blessed people.
Grace for your journey,
Leigh
http://www.upc.org/
Chris LOVED the hymn "For All the Saints" and it will also be sung at UPC. This particular Sunday tugs at the Moravian roots of this Presbyterian woman and I am reminded of mine and Chris' even more favorite hymn which I share here for your contemplation in prelude to our universal celebration of the Church Triumphant.
The graves of all His saints Christ blest, And softened every bed;
Where should the dying members rest, But with the dying Head?
Thence He arose, no more to die, And showed our feet the way
To follow Him, enthroned on high, At the great rising day.
Then let the last loud trumpet sound And bid our kindred rise.
Awake, ye nations underground; Ye saints, ascend the skies.
And from the liturgy of the Moravian Church for All Saints Day:
Let the great cloud of witnesses, the unnumerable company of those who have gone before and entered into rest, be to us an example of godly life. May we, with patience, run the race that is set before us, looking unto Jesus, the Author and Finisher of our faith; and obtain an entrance into the everlasting kingdom, and with the glorious assembly of saints, worship and adore Thee, through Jesus Christ, our Lord. Amen!
Thanks and praise to our Lord Jesus Christ for the Church Triumphant, the truly glorious cloud of witnesses surrounding us and for the Presence that is ours even in this life. At almost eight months after the most stunningly hard moment of my life I say with complete assurance that we worship a loving and good and very present God. He is indeed both Mystery and Lover of our souls and we are a blessed people.
Grace for your journey,
Leigh
Monday, October 18, 2010
Music!
When I think of Chris in heaven I think of him understanding all of those economics models that he pondered all the time. I also think of his trumpet. Surely the heavenly music is beyond our comprehension and hearkens to the angels proclaiming the news of Jesus being born. So, while Eric primarily plays his bass in jazz band and his baritone in concert band, we still love our trumpet music in this house and yesterday was really special.
Chris found Jonathan on Trumpet Herald, an online community of people as rabidly trumpet oriented as Chris always was. Jonathan is the first trumpet for Sammamish Symphony Orchestra and Chris was ELATED when he was invited to try playing with them. Long story short, Jonathan is an engaging, graciously kind guy who, a couple weeks ago, treated us to an evening of playing Chris' trumpets in our living room and filling our house with the sound of music at the level Chris played and it was blessing beyond measure. Yesterday, Sammamish had a concert and they needed a C trumpet and Chris' is quite nice so Eric and I loaned it to the Symphony and they sent us tickets for the concert. Actually they sent the season's worth of tickets but yesterday's concert was something special.
Once again, on the stage of Eastlake Performing Arts Center, Chris' C trumpet brought a joyful sound to an amazing concert of Overtures. Eric was in his new suit from the Harambee the other night and he was ever the gentleman, offering an arm to his mom and amazing me at how mature he really is. Intermission found us in the midst of a conversation about how he wants to take in more classical music, that we should search the Seattle Symphony website to see what works for us and can we go some. Surely, SURELY, Chris must have been rejoicing in heaven upon hearing his son yearn for more classical music. I whispered a "way to go Dad, he is truly your son" towards the sky and am looking forward to taking in more concerts with my son.
Music is Eric's passion, he's a heavy metal loving guy, who also loves jazz tremendously, sports an i-pod with Guns-n-Roses, Frank Sinatra, Glenn Miller and now Haydn. He loves Ella Fitzgerald and Metallica and is searching i-tunes for a Concerto from yesterday's concert. Music is a healing art and a connecting one, joining us to the saints that have gone before. And we LOVE music in this house and always have it on, from classical to metal and always always our beloved jazz. I get teary at the thought of Chris in God's Immediate Presence, along with Handel and Haydn and so many others. We share that music with him and we keep him in our hearts.
Grace for your journey,
Leigh
Chris found Jonathan on Trumpet Herald, an online community of people as rabidly trumpet oriented as Chris always was. Jonathan is the first trumpet for Sammamish Symphony Orchestra and Chris was ELATED when he was invited to try playing with them. Long story short, Jonathan is an engaging, graciously kind guy who, a couple weeks ago, treated us to an evening of playing Chris' trumpets in our living room and filling our house with the sound of music at the level Chris played and it was blessing beyond measure. Yesterday, Sammamish had a concert and they needed a C trumpet and Chris' is quite nice so Eric and I loaned it to the Symphony and they sent us tickets for the concert. Actually they sent the season's worth of tickets but yesterday's concert was something special.
Once again, on the stage of Eastlake Performing Arts Center, Chris' C trumpet brought a joyful sound to an amazing concert of Overtures. Eric was in his new suit from the Harambee the other night and he was ever the gentleman, offering an arm to his mom and amazing me at how mature he really is. Intermission found us in the midst of a conversation about how he wants to take in more classical music, that we should search the Seattle Symphony website to see what works for us and can we go some. Surely, SURELY, Chris must have been rejoicing in heaven upon hearing his son yearn for more classical music. I whispered a "way to go Dad, he is truly your son" towards the sky and am looking forward to taking in more concerts with my son.
Music is Eric's passion, he's a heavy metal loving guy, who also loves jazz tremendously, sports an i-pod with Guns-n-Roses, Frank Sinatra, Glenn Miller and now Haydn. He loves Ella Fitzgerald and Metallica and is searching i-tunes for a Concerto from yesterday's concert. Music is a healing art and a connecting one, joining us to the saints that have gone before. And we LOVE music in this house and always have it on, from classical to metal and always always our beloved jazz. I get teary at the thought of Chris in God's Immediate Presence, along with Handel and Haydn and so many others. We share that music with him and we keep him in our hearts.
Grace for your journey,
Leigh
Friday, October 15, 2010
Dinner, Wine, Friends and CLEAN WATER
Last night was MAGICAL! We attended the Women's Enterprises International http://www.womensenterprises.org/ Harambee. We got all dressed up, we took the money we had collected from our loose change each day, we took our friends and we drank wine, ate dinner, talked and listened. Once again I was reminded that life is pretty easy here and VERY hard for so much of the world. And I say this with more feeling than I can express, even in the midst of our lives, life is so much easier here than we EVER fully grasp. I looked across the table at my beautiful daughter, dressed up, boyfriend on one side, another dear friend on the other, enjoying a nice dinner and with a clean glass of water at her place. She never had to walk miles to help find it for our family, she simply turned on a faucet. And, in fact, we don't drink water from our faucet, we've deemed that not healthy enough for our western bodies, so we filter out the impurities. We are water elitists. She got to go to school as a little girl, she is now in college.
Emily's counterparts in Kenya are rarely so privileged. Girls walk miles for water, they carry heavy containers on their backs and they are often easy prey for people who would do them harm. They are often raped, infected with disease and live very hard lives and many do NOT go to school. School is still a privilege there, not like here. Kids don't wake up in Kenya wishing it was the weekend so they could sleep in, they truly feel the honor of education because they know the alternatives.
And so we went to dinner and we listened. An amazingly radiant Kenyan woman shared about lives changed from something so simple, clean water. Two mostly full carafes sat on our table, adorned with lemon slices and ice cubes...western privilege.
I missed Chris last night but I felt him intensely. Chris was changed by Africa, he was changed by Central America, he was changed as a little boy by Antigua and he appreciated the value of clean water. Chris didn't waste water, he HATED when we did. And by supporting the cause of clean drinking water we also honor him and his life and continue the good work that was begun in him. And we honor and worship and love God when we care for His people.
What exactly IS western privilege? It's not just the fancy cars and overly large houses we have, or our clothes or furniture, it's not our fancy degrees from years of education. It's as basic as turning on the faucet...running from it is western privilege. That's a really powerful image to me. I am confronted with it over and over every day...water, at the ready, from a faucet. I rinse my toothbrush in western privilege. That's an incredible thought.
Last night was amazing. We were surrounded at our table by the people we love the most, at an event we care deeply about. But the most important thing was what was said, CLEAN WATER SAVES LIVES and it should NOT just be a western privilege.
Thanks Chris, thanks for being you, for fussing when I left the sink dripping, for reminding us of how much water we used when we showered, for not being happy when we poured it down the sink because we didn't drink it all at dinner. Thank you for making me so aware of the less developed world that I can't possibly be content in mine without helping them too. That's ministry, in it's purest sense. God started a good work in you and we are picking that up.
Grace for your journey,
Leigh
Emily's counterparts in Kenya are rarely so privileged. Girls walk miles for water, they carry heavy containers on their backs and they are often easy prey for people who would do them harm. They are often raped, infected with disease and live very hard lives and many do NOT go to school. School is still a privilege there, not like here. Kids don't wake up in Kenya wishing it was the weekend so they could sleep in, they truly feel the honor of education because they know the alternatives.
And so we went to dinner and we listened. An amazingly radiant Kenyan woman shared about lives changed from something so simple, clean water. Two mostly full carafes sat on our table, adorned with lemon slices and ice cubes...western privilege.
I missed Chris last night but I felt him intensely. Chris was changed by Africa, he was changed by Central America, he was changed as a little boy by Antigua and he appreciated the value of clean water. Chris didn't waste water, he HATED when we did. And by supporting the cause of clean drinking water we also honor him and his life and continue the good work that was begun in him. And we honor and worship and love God when we care for His people.
What exactly IS western privilege? It's not just the fancy cars and overly large houses we have, or our clothes or furniture, it's not our fancy degrees from years of education. It's as basic as turning on the faucet...running from it is western privilege. That's a really powerful image to me. I am confronted with it over and over every day...water, at the ready, from a faucet. I rinse my toothbrush in western privilege. That's an incredible thought.
Last night was amazing. We were surrounded at our table by the people we love the most, at an event we care deeply about. But the most important thing was what was said, CLEAN WATER SAVES LIVES and it should NOT just be a western privilege.
Thanks Chris, thanks for being you, for fussing when I left the sink dripping, for reminding us of how much water we used when we showered, for not being happy when we poured it down the sink because we didn't drink it all at dinner. Thank you for making me so aware of the less developed world that I can't possibly be content in mine without helping them too. That's ministry, in it's purest sense. God started a good work in you and we are picking that up.
Grace for your journey,
Leigh
Saturday, October 2, 2010
New Beginnings
It's been a busy couple of weeks, high school football, relearning geometry so I can lend Eric a helpful homework hand, me back in school, commuting with Emily, which is seriously FUN. Still my daughter but also increasingly my grown up sister in Christ, she went to bible study at church with me this week and spoke up intelligently and asked insightful questions. At one point someone mentioned what a great group of women were in the room and the word women included my little girl and I was especially proud.
I have met new people, new classmates, new friends at church, but people who only know Chris from my descriptions and that's very weird to me. And that's part of what my future holds, creating and maintaining relationships with people who don't see me as Chris' wife when I still very much see myself in that way. I think always will. And I think that's okay.
Cancer changed my life. It came in to my home and my world and took an integral part of the definition of Leigh away and I'm left with this space that is begging for definition and which I am not yet ready to define. In one of my classes we went around the room and were asked to say our name and something about us...I said this, "I'm Leigh and God has me on a need to know basis and all I need to know today is to be here." Definition will come, I'm just not yet ready to know that part yet.
I miss him. I am confident I always will.
God has tight hold of me. I am confident of that too.
Grace for your journey,
Leigh
I have met new people, new classmates, new friends at church, but people who only know Chris from my descriptions and that's very weird to me. And that's part of what my future holds, creating and maintaining relationships with people who don't see me as Chris' wife when I still very much see myself in that way. I think always will. And I think that's okay.
Cancer changed my life. It came in to my home and my world and took an integral part of the definition of Leigh away and I'm left with this space that is begging for definition and which I am not yet ready to define. In one of my classes we went around the room and were asked to say our name and something about us...I said this, "I'm Leigh and God has me on a need to know basis and all I need to know today is to be here." Definition will come, I'm just not yet ready to know that part yet.
I miss him. I am confident I always will.
God has tight hold of me. I am confident of that too.
Grace for your journey,
Leigh
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Prayer
"Regarding Prayer -- Circumstances may not change but you will be unrecognizably transformed."
Wish I could give credit to whoever said that in my presence. I know roughly WHEN it was said and am sure of where but not a clue as to who. It's in the margin of my bible, the one I used in college, in Intervarsity. Intervarsity was the first place where I saw people writing in their bibles and not just a little bit but a lot and I have lots of little notes in the margins...nuggets that were thrown in my direction, reminders of a campus ministry that supported and sustained me in my undergraduate days.
Years have gone by and this statement written down in the margin of my bible a long time ago speaks total truth to me. Unrecognizably transformed...the result of prayer. I've been engaged in a lot of conversation about prayer lately, have been reading a lot on the subject and that one statement says it all. Circumstances may NOT change, but you will. Prayer changes our hearts, it realigns them with His and it deepens the level of intimacy in our relationship with the Holy One.
My life is not what I had planned, nor what I wanted when I lifted up my prayers a year ago but I am unrecognizably changed, even to myself and the intimacy with Him is rich. What more could I ask?
Grace for you journey,
Leigh
Wish I could give credit to whoever said that in my presence. I know roughly WHEN it was said and am sure of where but not a clue as to who. It's in the margin of my bible, the one I used in college, in Intervarsity. Intervarsity was the first place where I saw people writing in their bibles and not just a little bit but a lot and I have lots of little notes in the margins...nuggets that were thrown in my direction, reminders of a campus ministry that supported and sustained me in my undergraduate days.
Years have gone by and this statement written down in the margin of my bible a long time ago speaks total truth to me. Unrecognizably transformed...the result of prayer. I've been engaged in a lot of conversation about prayer lately, have been reading a lot on the subject and that one statement says it all. Circumstances may NOT change, but you will. Prayer changes our hearts, it realigns them with His and it deepens the level of intimacy in our relationship with the Holy One.
My life is not what I had planned, nor what I wanted when I lifted up my prayers a year ago but I am unrecognizably changed, even to myself and the intimacy with Him is rich. What more could I ask?
Grace for you journey,
Leigh
Monday, September 13, 2010
Alarms, Panic and God
I had a moment of panic this morning. It probably wasn't helped by the fact that I need to be up at 5:30 a.m. each morning to make our mornings flow smoothly and the clock was saying 6:19 a.m. when I first opened my eyes. How could I have forgotten to set the alarm clock?? Eric had a moment of panic too when his frantic mother burst in and told him we were late and to shower fast. In retrospect it wasn't the most loving way to wake your son for a mom.
As soon as I had Eric on the bus and I reached for my coffee to get centered, panic spiraled. I'm going back to school next week, how do I make it fit in and how am I going to pay my part of the tuition in the long run and how this and how that... So I opened my Bible, mine falls open pretty naturally to Lamentations because I live in that book, I devour that book. And there it was..."The Lord is my portion..." How could I not have remembered that when I was panicking over time? How could I so panic myself about the future that I worry about bills for tuition that haven't even arrived yet? The Lord is MY portion. The LORD is my portion. The Lord is my PORTION. The Lord IS my portion. No matter where you put the emphasis that statement speaks truth...life giving truth.
"The Lord is my portion, says my soul."-Lamentations 3:24
Life is going to bring mornings where alarms don't go off, it's going to bring car repairs unanticipated, jobs ended, all forms of grief, it's going to bring bad days and good days and all the in between days. It's going to bring...LIFE and we all know it and we all live it. But the Lord is our portion and we are held and we are LOVED. If God has grace for us, what more can we ask?
If my alarm had gone off properly I wouldn't have spent the morning reaffirming this Great Truth that is mine. The Lord really is my portion.
Grace for your journey,
Leigh
As soon as I had Eric on the bus and I reached for my coffee to get centered, panic spiraled. I'm going back to school next week, how do I make it fit in and how am I going to pay my part of the tuition in the long run and how this and how that... So I opened my Bible, mine falls open pretty naturally to Lamentations because I live in that book, I devour that book. And there it was..."The Lord is my portion..." How could I not have remembered that when I was panicking over time? How could I so panic myself about the future that I worry about bills for tuition that haven't even arrived yet? The Lord is MY portion. The LORD is my portion. The Lord is my PORTION. The Lord IS my portion. No matter where you put the emphasis that statement speaks truth...life giving truth.
"The Lord is my portion, says my soul."-Lamentations 3:24
Life is going to bring mornings where alarms don't go off, it's going to bring car repairs unanticipated, jobs ended, all forms of grief, it's going to bring bad days and good days and all the in between days. It's going to bring...LIFE and we all know it and we all live it. But the Lord is our portion and we are held and we are LOVED. If God has grace for us, what more can we ask?
If my alarm had gone off properly I wouldn't have spent the morning reaffirming this Great Truth that is mine. The Lord really is my portion.
Grace for your journey,
Leigh
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