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Sleeping Trees

January 20, 2015March 18, 2016

The sun rises in our capital city today, but things are different.

Yesterday, a fire in a very large waterfront home tragically took the lives of 4 children (cousins from 2 different families) and 2 adults, their grandparents. I heard about it midday, when a beloved friend called – very, very upset. Her kids were friends with those kids, and she would have to deliver unthinkable news…

I don’t know the families, had never met the children or their grandparents, but….well, I guess when you have kids, this kind of news is just especially gut wrenching. So awful. Devastating. How would I as a parent, feel? Instinctively, I hold my breath just imagining the sudden free-fall into darkness. I reel like this every time a story hits, literally, “so close to home.”

I look at the barren trees this morning and in my mind hear my youngest son’s words: “The trees are sleeping.” That’s what he said, back in the fall, when the preschool class was learning about seasons, and I immediately fell in love with the analogy – perfect for a 4-year old and 42-year old alike.

A cold, dreary winter combined with sad news can make people huddle and hide, withdrawing from the light. Right now, we can’t see it for all the bleak grayness of the world, but something new and beautiful will be visible in time. I have faith. I believe. I will hold a candle for those who can’t right now. I believe – in Him.

And Jesus said,

“I am come a light into the world,

that whosoever believeth on me

should not abide in darkness.”

– John 12:46

************

Only believe, only believe;

All things are possible, only believe.

Fear not, little flock, whatever your lot,

He enters all rooms, the doors being shut;

He never forsakes, He never is gone,

So count on His presence in darkness and dawn.

“Only Believe,” Paul Rader

(From The Bible Promise Book for Women, Barbour Publishing, Inc., 2014, p.13)

Day 20 – Thunderbird Pizza

November 5, 2014October 23, 2019

Photo credit: Thomas Schweighofer, www.unsplash.com

If you’re from Philadelphia you have your favorite place to go for a cheesesteak (which you probably just call a ‘steak’), and you know whether that’s a ‘whiz’ place or not; you also have a favorite place for hoagies; and you have a favorite place for pizza. These places may or may not be one and the same. Philadelphians are VERY particular about these foods, and VERY loyal to their neighborhoods. There is no “best place to get a cheesesteak” in the city. Anyone who tells you otherwise hasn’t lived there.

I went to high school in the western Philly suburbs, in a town called Broomall to be precise, and my family’s one-and-only for all three of these staple weekend foods was Thunderbird. If we weren’t squeezing into one of the tiny booths in this very basic building, we were having Thunderbird delivered – and I knew all the delivery guys. Each one was either a friend, or a friend of a friend. To a kid who grew up moving around a lot, and then having moved to Broomall in 10th grade, it was exciting to open my front door and know the person carrying my dinner. I think that’s what made me smile so much when I saw the Facebook post. That and the memories of celebrations that involved Thunderbird food – lighthearted moments – like eating the 6-foot long hoagie with my cheerleading squad over my dining room table after we won the regional championships.

High school is a difficult time for many people and for lots of different reasons. I was no exception. My parents had divorced and remarried, and although I think I held it together on the surface, I was churning inside – learning to navigate relationships and deal with pain that would take years of searching and prayer to heal from and understand. But it wasn’t all bad – not nearly so. I was blessed with very good friends, and was accepted in the community enough to feel some sense of ownership in it. I was very proud of the service my dad gave to our country as a military officer, but it meant that until that point I had never lived in one place longer than a couple years, so I had never been “from” anywhere. Feeling linked to the town through the high school and friends who worked at Thunderbird made it feel more like a permanent home.

I’ve heard it said that, more and more, people feel worse about themselves after they look at Facebook. So, reflecting on my own happy reaction to this post about my favorite pizza joint, I offer this: I can use Facebook as a spiritual barometer. It can tell me how the weather is in my soul. If I look at a post and feel uneasy, jealous, resentful, angry, haughty, proud, or greedy, I know that there’s trouble brewing with me. If, on the other hand, I read posts and feel genuinely joyful for others’ success and loving toward them, and my demeanor remains happy, peaceful, tolerant, kind, gentle, good, and rooted in faith and self-control, I’m on the right track and will not leave Facebook feeling worse than when I got on it. And given how far I’ve come in the nearly 25 years since high school, that’s certainly where I want to be today.

Me in my "Thunderbird" (i.e. high school) years. — Me in my “Thunderbird” (i.e. high school) years.

Day 14 – Spider-Man

October 19, 2014March 18, 2016

I pretend not to notice as he creeps around the side of the kitchen island and aims his little hand at me…his thumb, forefinger, and pinkey sticking out, the other two fingers curved back into his palm. “Gotcha!” he half-whispers, smiling his sly, playful, dimpled smile. “UAAAHH!” I shriek, “Not your web! You got me again!” And he giggles with delight, then runs away. Practice makes perfect, and my little Spider-man’s got two weeks to work on his webs before Halloween.

I like Halloween – when it doesn’t upset my kids or me. And yes, the bar is low for that. I admit it – I hate the dark side of the holiday. If we could get rid of anything associated with blood, gore, violence, scariness, and fascination with anything related to that macabre stuff, it would be wonderful. But since I know that won’t happen, I just focus on the lighthearted, wholesome aspects which lead to joyful memories of the fall season – trick or treating, pumpkin carving, and of course, innocent kids’ costumes.

Costume selection is always interesting because each year I’m curious to see what appeals to the kids and why. My oldest son (now 11), has, for 6 of the last 7 years been some kind of warrior. If a costume expresses an inner desire, then perhaps he wants to be tougher than he feels he is. My 8-year old daughter’s tastes vary. In recent years, she’s been a princess, a cat, a glamorous witch, a female warrior cartoon character, and a pirate. This year, she had trouble deciding between a vampire and an angel. I sensed she just liked the idea of being a vampire, without really understanding its full import. So I showed her costumes and vampire makeup. The fake blood disgusted her, and she settled on ‘angel,’ and a full-length gown. In the end, it was really about the gold and white dress. But, I was quite happy with her choice.

Whether a person wants to try on a whole new identity, or express some hidden side of themselves, no one ever puts on a Halloween costume and then hangs out at home all alone. The fun is in circulating amongst other people incognito, or somewhat so. Everyone wants to be noticed in their chosen garb, and to have a good time wearing it for a little while. And sometimes a person feels even more brazen in their costume – willing to step out boldly in ways they wouldn’t otherwise – just because the garb gives them added confidence as they “become” the character they portray. I saw this firsthand with my oldest back when he was two and chose to be Buzz Lightyear. His costume had inflatable wings that attached to his back, and I have photos of him walking up to complete strangers with a huge smile, bag out and ready for handfuls of candy.

Why do we do this? Why do we try to be noticed? I actually think we are looking for something divine. We want to experience someone seeing us not only for who we are day-to-day, but also as who we wish we could be, or think we might be – a better or alternate version of ourselves. No matter how much time we spend with our family, friends, or acquaintances, we sense the truth deep in our souls that none of these people can actually fill our deepest need – to be fully and wholly known.

So, a costume is not merely a covering up – it is also a reaching out. It’s a way of saying, “Will you still love me – like this?” Too often, the costumed are not yet aware of why they want to be noticed. The psalmist says it perfectly:

O God, you are my God–

for you I long!

For you my body yearns;

for you my soul thirsts,

Like a land parched, lifeless,

and without water.

–Psalm 63:1-2

Day 12 – Family Movie Night

October 15, 2014March 18, 2016

Saturday night is usually “family movie night” at our house. Our selections generally need to have broad appeal since the audience of five ranges in age from 4 to 42 and includes both genders. So – it’s not all action movies or cartoon animation, and it’s not all princess stories, either. Lately, we’ve been trying out some classics we think the kids might enjoy. I’m happy to report that in the last few months, The Wizard of Oz, The Goonies, and The Sound of Music were hits!

Photo credit: "Maria" by jessowey, www.fanpop.com — Photo credit: “Maria” by jessowey, www.fanpop.com

What I cherish most about these evenings is not the break in routine from our very scheduled lives, but the feeling in our home just before we descend to the basement to get settled in. We make a bunch of popcorn. Then, the kids grab pillows, stuffed animals and blankets from their rooms and loudly haul them downstairs. They are jubilant and pumped with adrenaline. They “call” spots. Who gets the little hideaway between the sofa and the Elvis lamp? (It was from my husband’s first apartment – none of his roommates claimed it when everyone moved out, but we still have it….worth some money, maybe??…..the kids love that nook.) And who will get the alligator chair? – a green stuffed animal/pillow that we bought for child #1’s baby room, but that has mysteriously lingered for almost 12 years. And who gets the sofa, to cuddle with Mom? (Thankfully, this last choice is not always the last choice.)

These joyful family rituals are the ties that will connect my kids’ childhood memories, along with family dinners, outings to museums and sites in nearby cities, school events we all attend, holidays, church on Sunday, etc. And the truth is, I know I couldn’t really appreciate these situations without a modicum of God’s grace. Not because I don’t love my kids, but because try as I might, I still love them as only a human mother can. And sometimes, the noise they make drives me nuts.

When I’m tired, and just looking forward to putting my feet up on a sofa, and watching a nice movie next to my husband, I sometimes have to step back and remind myself where all this luxury of time, good health, food, and a home came from. And when I do, and I offer thanks to the One who gave it to me, my preconceived notions of how I think I like my house to be – which is QUIET – go away. My perspective shifts. And I love how it does. Every. Single. Time.

My perspective swings off of me and my preferences, and onto Him and His gifts to me…..Too numerous to count. Among them – three kiddos just psyched that we’re all here, and going to do something together, yet again. Thank you, thank you, thank you….

Day 10 – The Smith Wrinkle

October 12, 2014November 2, 2018

“Do you have the Smith wrinkle?” my distant cousin asks me over breakfast with a small group of family members, reunited in a Denny’s in Vancouver, WA in July. “Umm…I’m sorry?” I say. This lady is my dad’s first cousin, but because I’ve spent my life on the East Coast, I’ve only ‘met’ her a handful of times in my adulthood. She is lovely, but….the Smith wrinkle? She continues, smiling, “On your arm,” and reaches across my aunt who is sitting between us to turn over my right arm and push up my sleeve. “You do!!” she declares. I look down and realize then that the strange little line about one inch above the crook of my elbow now has an endearing name – my maiden name. “Do others have it?” I ask quizzically, shocked and delighted by this family tidbit. “As far as I know, all of us Smiths have it. It’s a genetic trait. It gets more defined as you get older.” My aunt is equally surprised. We roll up her sleeve. She’s got it. At the table are my grandpa and his sister. They both have it. The minute I get home a few days later, I check all three of my kids. They each have it, too. Well, I’ll be darned.

Family traits come in a variety of packages. There are genetic traits – like this fun little wrinkle in my family, or another family’s perky nose, or auburn hair, deep-set eyes and long eyelashes, feet that all look the same, etc. There are also personality traits – like inherent joyfulness, ambitiousness, or a strong preference for organized surroundings and schedules (or lack thereof). The possibilities are endless, and families fascinate me, because even where similarities exist, countless differences do as well. No two people, even genetically identical twins, are absolutely the same through and through. The most important part of them – the soul – is one of a kind.

In the past, I wondered about the malleability of my soul, because I’d heard many proponents of various belief systems stipulate (in one way or another) that we can change ourselves. They are loud and vocal in today’s world. Usually they advocate some sort of introspective process in which a person peels back layers (often painful memories) to try to uncover the essence of who they are, and from there, harness internal raw energy to embrace life with newfound vigor and awareness. While we can probably make small changes on our own, it’s been my experience that profound, lasting change requires more than…well, more than me. This introspective process worked for me to a point, but stopped when I came to grips with the fact that if I truly had the power to change myself, I would have already done it. My willpower alone should’ve been enough. But I was still plagued with bad habits and personality traits I disliked, and I hurt others with them too. I had to admit the possibility of a power greater than myself, and that I was NOT it.

Once I fully acknowledged that God was not me, and that I was not in control of much of anything, I returned to the faith of my upbringing and began to hear again the whisper of His voice. Here and there at first, then more as I began to study Him in earnest, and finally, regularly as I went to Him in prayer. What He taught me was so much more profound and soul-filling than anything I had found rooting around on my own. He showed me that not only is He more than enough, that He is who my soul was looking for, but also that to the degree I allow Him, His Spirit comes in and replaces my bad qualities with His perfect ones. He alone can heal my wounded and wayward soul. 2 Timothy 1:7 tells me, “For the Spirit God gave us does not make us timid, but gives us power, love, and self-discipline.” Further, I want to throw myself into His mercy, because the fruits of His love in those who love Him are so precious:

But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance,

kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.

Against such things there is no law.

Those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires.

Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit.

— Galatians 5:22-25

Lord, make your traits more defined in me as I mature in my relationship with you, just as you’ll make the Smith wrinkle stand out more in my ‘senior’ years.