The 4th with a plague

backlight backlit countryside dusk

It’s 110 degrees
there’s a significant wind moving the leaves
of our sissoos and elms.
From the window outside looks inviting

I’m tired of being inside
tired of air conditioning and my couch
I want to feel some heat, some breeze
something

Watermelon
that’s what I want
I’ll go get a watermelon

“I’m going to the store for watermelon!” I shout to my husband
laying on the couch watching videos of mountain biking
“That’s all? Watermelon?” my husband questions the necessity of the trip
“I’ve got my mask. I’ll be quick”
and off I went.

I found myself wondering the isles, not being quick
watching people, some masked, others not.
Going to the store wasn’t like this last year
Melon and some popcorn, I check out
a Plexiglas shield between me and my masked cashier

“What are you doing for the 4th, honey?” she asked,
It struck me funny she called me honey
she could have been my daughter
“Just trying to stay safe, you know” I pointed to my mask
“Me too. I wish I could just stay home” she confessed
“I’m sorry dear. I pray you’ll stay safe.”
“Thanks! Happy 4th!”

I was tired of being inside
she just wanted to go home.

Home again I wash my hands
and the fruit
and cut into that idealistic melon.
Small red triangles dotted with black seeds
fill my bowl.
I’m satisfied
but I don’t want to stay inside.

It’s hot
so I walk to the nearest patch of shade in the yard
the stinging invisible rays burning enough
to make me a little uncomfortable.
I brought the rinds from the watermelon
to our goats and chickens
who I found hunkering down, panting in the shade of our aluminum corral

I set the green and red rinds down in their troughs and watched them
get up from their spots
They seemed to enjoy the cold, crunchy shell of the melon
pecking and chomping
refreshed

A neighbor down the alley has started up
the mariachi band that usually plays on Saturday nights
I listen for a bit
Mariachi always sounds like happy children playing in the yard to me
dancing and laughing and chasing each other

There will be no fireworks in town tonight
a young cashier will be calling strangers “honey” from behind Plexiglas
a Latino family down the alley will play mariachi
my friends will fight off panic in the hospital
a woman will grieve that Covid took her love
a daughter will weep that it took her mom
a stranger will call a nurses station hoping for good news
and when the sun to goes down
I’ll sit on the porch and watch the sky
change colors
and pray

Learning to breath like a Christian during a pandemic

backlight backlit countryside dusk
Photo by Vlad Bagacian on Pexels.com

Honestly I’m angry. It’s 10 pm and I just made myself shut off my phone.

What I read on Twitter tonight has me writhing in anger! I see people loosing their grip on their wealth and spinning the elderly and vulnerable as worthy martyrs on behalf of the American dream.

It makes me want to puke! Puking probably won’t help anything. But learning how to breathe like a Christian during this pandemic will.

Just today I was thinking about the tension between being joyful as a Christian and lamenting. Right now I mostly want to lament. I want to be angry at the injustice and evil I see. I want to weep over the anxieties I feel. But I also feel a sense of hope, anticipation and actual joy about the redemption Jesus is working through this dark time in history.

After scrolling through tweets tonight, finding myself scowling and scrunching my shoulders, holding my breath and slamming utensils in anger, I realized I needed to stop and breathe and cast my cares on the God who defends the widow and fatherless and redeems my life.

There’s a healthy pattern in the Psalms for a practice of living with the tension between joy and sorrow, anger and hope.

The Psalms are like breathing. Breathing like a sojourner in a foreign land. Breathing like a child of God.

We exhale, “How long?” And, “Why have you forgotten?” And, “Contend, O Lord!” and we cry.

He gathers our tears and bears us up continually (Psalm 68:19).

Then we inhale, “Trust in the Lord!” And, “You are my help and my deliverer!” Breathing in the hope of his promise.

He leads us on, in that “long obedience in the same direction” (Peterson), through the valley of the shadow of death (Psalm 23), all the way home.

There is much to lament. And there is also much good to anticipate. Our Redeemer lives! And while I weep and I cannot tritely say, “Look at how happy I am because I’m a Christian, even while the world burns.” I can, weathered and worn, laugh at the days to come.

I can breathe out my complaints to the One who takes vengeance, and I can inhale his unspeakable peace.

5 helps for hard, I mean, all marriages

adult beverage black coffee breakfast
Photo by Burst on Pexels.com

In September my husband and I will have been married for 25 years.  And that’s no testimony to our skill, secrets or practices.  We’ve done just about everything wrong.  And making it this long is no guarantee that we’ll make it another 25 years.  When our friends ask how we’er doing, I tell them our marriage is healthier than it’s ever been.  Nevertheless, the past tries to swallow me in a mire. And my previous attempts at holding tightly to our vows- as though they are the grace that saves me- have proven my idolatry.

Listening to Rachel Welcher yesterday on a Grace Covers Me podcast by Christine Hoover I heard a few things that struck a chord with me.  Rachel is a woman who has at least in part walked a mile in my shoes. In listening to her story I echoed amens and scratched down a bunch of thoughts. Here’s five I thought were beneficial for all marriages:

  1. Just because you’ve done everything right, doesn’t mean everything will turn out right. Describing how she met her now ex-husband, Rachel, she talks about how she tried to do everything, “by the books.”  She did what she was taught was wise and godly in dating and picking the right person to marry. Yet her marriage still ended in a divorce she didn’t want. She brings up a great point: There’s a prosperity gospel theology undergirding the idea that if we do all the right things our marriages will turn out great. It’s not true. You can do all the right things and God’s will for you can be suffering and even divorce.  Like Rachel, I too wrestle with how it works theologically that God can hate divorce and it still be somehow part of his sovereign will that you walk through a divorce. I may not understand but it’s true. The fact that we will suffer and experience blessing even in walking through things God hates does not mean we shouldn’t make wise decisions in dating and marriage. Our motivation is not freedom from suffering.  Our motivation is love of God. We obey because we love God, not so that God will bless us.  For the Christian the blessing in suffering in a hard marriage or even in loosing your marriage is that God is near to you.
  2. Living with the looming possibility that your spouse might decide that the two of you are just too different now.  Rachel talked about the torture of living in this limbo state where you know your spouse is considering a divorce. It’s interesting to me that we who have experienced this uneasy limbo in our marriages attribute our lack of control of the destiny of our marriages to our hard marriage situations.  God has taught (is teaching) me over the years that no marriage is a guarantee. The truth is even the best and healthiest of marriages could be completely destroyed by one or the other’s decision at any time. Living in a marriage with an unbeliever these 25 year has taught me to live with open hands to God’s will.  1 Corinthians 7:12-16 gives specific help for believers married to unbelievers who want to leave the marriage, but the message in that chapter is also for all marriages: Let go of clinging to the shadow of marriage (vs. 29-31).  Rachel’s description of the torn feeling of whether to focus on being a wife or, “… prepare for inconceivable heartache,” is a reality for people in hard marriages.  But it’s also a reality for any marriage.  Rachel’s friend’s advice,”You won’t ever regret loving him too much during this time,” is good for every marriage.  As Rachel said, “While you’re married, your heart’s in your marriage.”
  3. It’s not your responsibility to convince or save your spouse.  1 Peter 3 has been a go-to passage for me these 25 years of marriage. As I wrote in my piece at Desiring God, my desire to win my husband to Christ with my Christ-changed life is something, by God’s grace I will try to do until I die- whether we’re married or not. But Rachel talked about how the message some people delivered her way was that if she did the right things she might be able to save her husband. I know what she means. Over the years I’ve heard the same message. Maybe you should invite him to such and such. Maybe he should read this book. Maybe he should go to that movie. Have you taken him to that church? Would he go out to poker night with me? I’ve tried everything to “win” my husband in my own power. But Peter’s call to seek to win your husband is a call to be a light not a call to be your husband’s savior.  I know the pressure Rachel speaks of, but I think the message of 1 Peter 3 is that even if we loose our spouses to divorce, while we are married, we should give our hearts to loving God and loving our husbands in such a way that desires to win them to Christ.
  4. Living with shame in your marriage.  Rachel talks about how her divorce was her identity for a season after she lost her marriage. I feel like I’ve wrestled with that recurring climate in my marriage for 25 years. When you’re in a hard marriage that’s been hurt by each other’s sin, divorce, differences of faith, etc., the pain can be so overwhelming that it’s the key landmark by which you identify your life. But the shame of brokenness in our marriages and in our lives is not what Christ wants to leave us with. We can take our shame to him and learn to live out of the identity of who we are in Christ.  The brokenness in your marriage doesn’t define you.  Christ does.  I have to feed myself that truth daily, several times a day, in season and out of season.
  5. You must be fueling your own relationship with God.  Rachel mentions having been in the midst of privately writing essays on Job for two years when her husband filed for divorce.  She was able to draw on what she knew of God during that terrible time because of her time in the scripture.  Whether our marriages are broken by divorce, differences of faith, past sins and failures, or just the everyday sins and failures that make lifetime companionship with another person hard, we, like Rachel, can be steadied through the various seasons of our life knowing God can allow us to suffer and be good at the same time.  But to know this kind of steadfast love we must feed our relationship with God by being in his word.  Meditating on it day and night. Wrestling with it. Praying it. Daily.

the war is over grandma

grandma was a little girl
back in 45
“It’s over. The war.”
her teacher hollered outside

she remembered that day
outside the schoolhouse
also a church
kicking the can to play

she remembered being mad
the teacher’s news meant
no more fun
she wanted to run

she recalled the holler
little river rock house
where she was born
from there her heart was torn

at 15 the boy on the bus
became her husband
took her with him to Cali
far from momma and daddy

sweet 16, Bobby Ray
my pa made her a mommy
“I was just a kid babe”
Shook her head remembering that day

four more children
in her teens and early 20’s
Terry, Gary, Greg and Tommy
her sweeties

she had regrets
tears can’t take her back
to the day when her son
left to go with his dad

“I thought I was doing what was right”
bitter tears flowed from her eyes
down wrinkled cheeks
her hand in mine

“I was just a kid”
she lamented what she did
to his daughter
now she pled

“It’s ok grandma”
i held her close
her tiny frame
tucked next to my breast

“If we could just have had hindsight
we could have loved better”
she wished she could have seen
what her youth wouldn’t let her

she talked. I listened
those days after the lesion
when cancer pressed
brain, bone and breath

grandma was a little girl
83 knocking on heaven’s door
she tasted the love of the Father
in being her daddy’s daughter

she remembered the love
no sentiment of sainthood
she knew sin, hers
and those of her kin

she remembered being a girl
loved by a dad
forgiven
even still

that trust she once had
before her childish run
to play grownup went bad
became her hope in the Son

“Unless you become like a child”
she quoted the Bible
she knew now what Jesus meant
His red words New Testament

grandma was a girl
the Teacher stopped her play
and gave her His peace
she went home with today

 

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We weren’t meant to die

pexels-photo-601798.jpegI’m sitting here on this lazyboy in my grandma’s apartment watching her breath while she sleeps on the couch. The television is playing dvd’s she’s created over the years with pictures of all that’s important to her- her family.  Hymns and songs of worship that help her feel God’s pleasure fill the room.  They’re songs she selected for the family memories she had put together.

A deep gasp.  A long pause.  I watch.  No chest rise.  I keep watching.  She gasps again for precious air to fill the alveoli that will exchange toxic gases with the perfect combination of air her cells need to keep her heart pumping.  I don’t know how long she has left.  Maybe Jesus will take her home tonight. Maybe tomorrow.  Maybe next month.  But I watch because I know she’s dying. I know she doesn’t have many more breaths to take into her 83 year old lungs. The cancer cells are fulfilling the curse against her body. I watch because I don’t want her to be alone while she walks through this dark valley.

The death of the body is a soul-shaking thing.  We avoid it, fight against it, try to ignore it.  Eventually we come face to face with death’s power and we cannot win.  We fight and we strive to live as alive as we can live for as long as we can because we weren’t meant to die.  We were meant to live.

In this life, death and beauty, death and song, death and laughter, death and affection, death and healing dwell together.  Like enemies that agree to a truce for a time, death and all the evidences that we were meant to live and flourish, co-exsist.

In the same body where cells are invading the place where precious memories of smiles and birth and hugs and laughter and song were, there are lung cells doing their job to bring one more breath of life to the blood coursing through her veins.  In the same room where her body lays weakened by cancer two dozen red roses bring joy to the dimming eyes. Life seems to be loosing the fight, but song and flower whisper the longing, “There must be more.”

One day there will be life for my grandma that’s not mixed with death.  From here death seems to be winning.  But once it thinks it’s done it’s deed a breath of life never to die will fill her glorified lungs and death will have died forever for her.

There are lots of good and beautiful things in this life.  But mixed in between is the rotten stench of death.  One day it will not be.

One Man faced death for my grandma and because her hope is in him, when she exhales her last toxic breath of death’s work here, she’ll inhale a breath of life where her Redeemer stands ready to welcome her into everlasting life.

‘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. Do you believe this?” ‘ John 11:25-26