Today I was rummaging about in my thoughts to see what was solid & natural as well as what could be sent away to burn. So I stumbled on an old bit of treasure amidst the rubble, it was simple & worth keeping like an old picture lying amidst the smoldering ruins of a home. To me, it is important to study & memorize; be it a quote from a favorite author, a verse of wisdom or a poem. In a moment of need, our own or a loved ones, we can offer undeniable hope with our words. In a instance of love we can sweeten the moment with words tried & true. There are few opportunities in this life so great as when you offer a friend hope or place a smile on the face of the one you love. Let us not underestimate the influence of our words & let us prepare so we have something of value to offer when given the chance.
Here is a good place to begin.
I LOVE YOU.
"I love you for what you are, but I
love you
yet more for what you are going to
be.
I love you not so much for your
realities
as for your ideals.
I pray for your desires that they may
be great,
rather than for your satisfactions,
which may be so hazardously little.
You are going forward toward
something great.
I am on the way with you,
and therefore I love you."
-Carl Sandburg
Saturday, December 29, 2012
Monday, December 24, 2012
Glowing Hearts (At Christmas Time)
Almost every family I know has Christmas time memories, maybe some traditions or a favorite holiday story that comes out each year when the winter snows start falling, I know mine does. My memories of being a small boy during Colorado winters involved reading The Polar Express & falling in love with the pictures &wishing I had a single, magical silver-bell while looking out my darkened living room to a green & red illuminated front yard. For years & to this day my family & I will drag our Christmas storage bins out of the shed & dust off old wreaths, pictures & candles to place around the house for Christmas warmth & cheer. I recall the joy of decorating trees with my family which was accompanied by trying to free all the ornaments in the box when the hook-hangy things on them would intertwine & tangle. I remember watching It's a Wonderful Life or singing Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer while contributing all the fillers in the verses (ex: like a lightbullb, like monopoly or like George Washington). So many times I watched a cartoon about a snowman brought to life by a magician's silk hat or a claymation rendition of Santa & his favorite reindeer. These have all been an important part of a developing Christmas story & I enjoyed them all very much, but one tradition & story always held my heart in a special way. There has been just one story that began small & grew to change everything in my life.
This family tradition began when I was very young & could have never existed without my big brother, Sam. Each year for our Christmas Eve get-together at my grandma's house he would re-vamp & then compose a Christmas play for all of the cousins to act out in the living room for the adults prior to opening our presents. This was sometimes tiresome for the cousins as my brother's writing level far exceed our reading capabilites & sometimes tiresome for the adults because the length of the plays increased as he became a increasingly proficient writer (it also took me along time to sound out many of the words he would write in the play programs). My sister came around when I was ten which meant there were six cousins total; my brother, myself, my baby sis & our three cousins. Sam would seldom act, as his job of narrating, orienting & then re-orienting all of us during the play was enough job in itself. This would leave me, reluctantly, as the lead actor each year as I was second oldest to my brother. I have played the Grinch, Ebeneezer, Joseph & many others but my favorite of all these was Joseph. My brother retold the nativity as one of our very first plays for the family, it was simply told & planted a small seed in my heart among many others that over the years was watered & nourished by the love of God, my family & all of you. My memories of being young seem like ghosts at times, wisps of thought you can almost hold onto but slip through your fingers but I can remember this story.
The story of Christ's birth seemed more impossible than any other Christmas story I had ever heard. There were promises of a King born of a Virgin, God come in flesh to save us, yet Jesus was humbly born & placed in a manger. There was no room for Him in Bethlehem, where Joseph & Mary had to travel on their own to take part in the census Caesar Augustus had commanded all people to do. It didn't make total sense to me. How could a baby born in a small town by young parents, in the middle of the night in a stable become one of the most known & talked of names in all of history? How could God love us so much that He would enter the world in such a vulnerable way at such a violent time in history?
As a teenager I became bored with Christmas. I would serve as little as possible & look to see what I could gain more than anyone should. Without serving, sacrificing or generosity such a beautiful season as Christmas began losing value to me. I had little interest in the cute holiday stories anymore.
My first memories of our Christmas plays remained, however, & the seed that rooted in me years prior began spreading through the darkened & hardened areas of my heart. This impossible story of Jesus's birth became too beautiful to ignore just as impossible as it was for me to deny the beauty looking out at the sun dipping behind our Colorado mountains with radiant oranges & pinks running through the sky. This story became not just something I heard but something I felt, not just something I knew but something I believed & I was ready to believe something that seemed so impossible. I was ready stop selling myself short on what my belief was made for & I no longer wanted to listen to a world where a love so great as Christs was considered falicy.
So this year as I think back & see Christ's story entering my life as a young boy, I am thankful. I am thankful that He never gave up on us. I am thankful that in His life He offers us something seemingly impossible to believe & has transformed countless hearts & lives through His. I am thankful for His story because through Him it has allowed me to believe in others & myself again. His story has made my life not only a better one but one worth living.
'Truly He taught us to love one another,
Merry Christmas & I love you!
This family tradition began when I was very young & could have never existed without my big brother, Sam. Each year for our Christmas Eve get-together at my grandma's house he would re-vamp & then compose a Christmas play for all of the cousins to act out in the living room for the adults prior to opening our presents. This was sometimes tiresome for the cousins as my brother's writing level far exceed our reading capabilites & sometimes tiresome for the adults because the length of the plays increased as he became a increasingly proficient writer (it also took me along time to sound out many of the words he would write in the play programs). My sister came around when I was ten which meant there were six cousins total; my brother, myself, my baby sis & our three cousins. Sam would seldom act, as his job of narrating, orienting & then re-orienting all of us during the play was enough job in itself. This would leave me, reluctantly, as the lead actor each year as I was second oldest to my brother. I have played the Grinch, Ebeneezer, Joseph & many others but my favorite of all these was Joseph. My brother retold the nativity as one of our very first plays for the family, it was simply told & planted a small seed in my heart among many others that over the years was watered & nourished by the love of God, my family & all of you. My memories of being young seem like ghosts at times, wisps of thought you can almost hold onto but slip through your fingers but I can remember this story.
The story of Christ's birth seemed more impossible than any other Christmas story I had ever heard. There were promises of a King born of a Virgin, God come in flesh to save us, yet Jesus was humbly born & placed in a manger. There was no room for Him in Bethlehem, where Joseph & Mary had to travel on their own to take part in the census Caesar Augustus had commanded all people to do. It didn't make total sense to me. How could a baby born in a small town by young parents, in the middle of the night in a stable become one of the most known & talked of names in all of history? How could God love us so much that He would enter the world in such a vulnerable way at such a violent time in history?
As a teenager I became bored with Christmas. I would serve as little as possible & look to see what I could gain more than anyone should. Without serving, sacrificing or generosity such a beautiful season as Christmas began losing value to me. I had little interest in the cute holiday stories anymore.
My first memories of our Christmas plays remained, however, & the seed that rooted in me years prior began spreading through the darkened & hardened areas of my heart. This impossible story of Jesus's birth became too beautiful to ignore just as impossible as it was for me to deny the beauty looking out at the sun dipping behind our Colorado mountains with radiant oranges & pinks running through the sky. This story became not just something I heard but something I felt, not just something I knew but something I believed & I was ready to believe something that seemed so impossible. I was ready stop selling myself short on what my belief was made for & I no longer wanted to listen to a world where a love so great as Christs was considered falicy.
So this year as I think back & see Christ's story entering my life as a young boy, I am thankful. I am thankful that He never gave up on us. I am thankful that in His life He offers us something seemingly impossible to believe & has transformed countless hearts & lives through His. I am thankful for His story because through Him it has allowed me to believe in others & myself again. His story has made my life not only a better one but one worth living.
'Truly He taught us to love one another,
His law is love and His gospel is peace.
Chains he shall break, for the slave is our brother.
And in his name all oppression shall cease.
Sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus raise we,
With all our hearts we praise His holy name.
Christ is the Lord! Then ever, ever praise we,
His power and glory ever more proclaim!
His power and glory ever more proclaim!'
Merry Christmas & I love you!
Friday, December 7, 2012
Story.
Recently I acquired a book & it was free, which I love. I flipped it open & for hundreds of pages there were inspirational quotes & after each quote there is a small amount of room to write & reflect on the day, or that quote, or life at large. For twenty minutes or so I sat reading page after page of quotes, inspired by some & left wondering, "Did that quote make it in by mistake?" by others. After I had my fill of mild inspiration I closed the book to find the pinnacle of self-inspired messages on the back cover, it read, "You are the hero of your own story." I almost threw the book out after reading this.
The more I think & read of it the more I realize my life is a story. As far as it relates to this world I have a beginning, a middle & an end. There are seasons of drought where the story line waivers & I question whether or not mine is a good one. Then there are climaxes or turning points that beckon us ahead or stop us in our tracks, these are the exciting parts. But however our story is currently being written or in what direction we are headed in, a truth is there; when we believe a better story lies before us we have no choice but to move forward. Well, really, we do have a choice but the choice is move ahead or numb ourselves in our march toward death, to pretend that call is not there. The latter of the two we seem like the obvious one to avoid. But when a greater story lies ahead of me why do I often choose to stay where I am? Why do I ignore or decline the offer for a greater story? This is a question I struggle with daily.
Being a human & a man I default towards comfortable & safe things. More than not I set roots in areas of my life where comfort is ample & when distress trespasses inward I again strive for comfort. This sole desire for comfort makes me an increasingly boring & predictable author of my own story. I sit most days & pencil in a script of good food, familiar company, mediocre faith & an occasional outdoor adventure. These are all alright things to have in part but not through the entire story, it's so boring. Yuck. I realized several years ago I didn't want to play author of my life anymore, I wanted God to.
At first I really did not like the things He would write; love that person over there, forgive this person over here, ask for forgiveness for yourself, tithe your hard earned money, don't eat for a full day... But as I did these little things my story began improving, I began enjoying living in it. I began understanding God was able to write a story for me far greater than I could write my self. A life full of all the elements of my favorite books or movies; growth, adventure, romance, joy, forgiveness, redemption, justice & love. If it were up to me I would continue writing the story but with a slightly more attractive narrator, with slightly more money, with a supermodel wife, that has to work less, that has to sacrifice very little to achieve great things. This is not real life & thankfully He has far greater plans for me than I do for myself.
We are not all promised a good beginning to life but we all have equal chance of a good death. If we want a funeral with standing room only we have to ask God daily, "What will you write for me today?". If we only have today with God as the author & if we let Him write, we are part of a story worth sharing & remembering. It is my prayer the our ending is written far better than our beginning, with God being the Author & hero of our stories.
The more I think & read of it the more I realize my life is a story. As far as it relates to this world I have a beginning, a middle & an end. There are seasons of drought where the story line waivers & I question whether or not mine is a good one. Then there are climaxes or turning points that beckon us ahead or stop us in our tracks, these are the exciting parts. But however our story is currently being written or in what direction we are headed in, a truth is there; when we believe a better story lies before us we have no choice but to move forward. Well, really, we do have a choice but the choice is move ahead or numb ourselves in our march toward death, to pretend that call is not there. The latter of the two we seem like the obvious one to avoid. But when a greater story lies ahead of me why do I often choose to stay where I am? Why do I ignore or decline the offer for a greater story? This is a question I struggle with daily.
Being a human & a man I default towards comfortable & safe things. More than not I set roots in areas of my life where comfort is ample & when distress trespasses inward I again strive for comfort. This sole desire for comfort makes me an increasingly boring & predictable author of my own story. I sit most days & pencil in a script of good food, familiar company, mediocre faith & an occasional outdoor adventure. These are all alright things to have in part but not through the entire story, it's so boring. Yuck. I realized several years ago I didn't want to play author of my life anymore, I wanted God to.
At first I really did not like the things He would write; love that person over there, forgive this person over here, ask for forgiveness for yourself, tithe your hard earned money, don't eat for a full day... But as I did these little things my story began improving, I began enjoying living in it. I began understanding God was able to write a story for me far greater than I could write my self. A life full of all the elements of my favorite books or movies; growth, adventure, romance, joy, forgiveness, redemption, justice & love. If it were up to me I would continue writing the story but with a slightly more attractive narrator, with slightly more money, with a supermodel wife, that has to work less, that has to sacrifice very little to achieve great things. This is not real life & thankfully He has far greater plans for me than I do for myself.
We are not all promised a good beginning to life but we all have equal chance of a good death. If we want a funeral with standing room only we have to ask God daily, "What will you write for me today?". If we only have today with God as the author & if we let Him write, we are part of a story worth sharing & remembering. It is my prayer the our ending is written far better than our beginning, with God being the Author & hero of our stories.
Monday, October 29, 2012
A Year in Review
It seems impossible to recount the times as a child that I was asked the question by family, friends or old-ladies at my moms work, "What do you want to do when you grow up?" In fact, every child is asked this or at least dreams of what they may do & what may make them happy. I would give my answer & get an affirming head pat or a "that was cute of him to say" giggle.
You see, I wanted to drive 7-Up delivery trucks because I loved semi-trucks & drinking 7 up soda-pop. My imagination told me of the joy I could bring to others when I dropped off a case of 7-Up & how eager they would be to see me return as I would drive off into the Colorado sunset in my super-awesome truck.
Currently I do not drive trucks filled to the brim with sugary beverages but I still see the value in my childhood ambition; bringing good to others & having joy in your work. As God would have it, I would not end up driving trucks, playing professional football or being doctor; He had something better in mind for me.
Last Halloween I wore my best slacks & tie into my first day of work. I nearly wore my Harry Potter costume but realized this may not be this first impression I want to have with my peers & staff. Each article of clothing was meticulously hung up the night before & my lunch was packed extra healthy for extra brain power. An excited kind of nervous overwhelmed me that morning that I awoke to several alarms thinking of all the preparation to this point & being thankful for all the great promises that had been seen to fruition. This coming Wednesday marks the end of my first year working as a nurse & I could not be more thankful or think of a place I would rather be.
My nursing relationship set off as two lovers destined to be. I woke with eagerness & excitement each morning & left each night with fullness & thanks. This was a season, like all seasons, that shifted. Soon the infatuation slipped away which forced me to trust deeper & work harder to find ways to love. The realization of how my patients were trusting me with their lives set in & nearly paralyzed me but God helped me to work each day as I prayed for safety & gentleness with my them. He put me with individuals & situations I had never dreamed of experiencing coming from my small, middle-class hometown of Berthoud. In short, in a job where I thought I would love & serve within the constraints of my imagination I was instead being broken down & rebuilt so I could love & serve in a far better way. In my 12 hour shifts I have been prayed for, cursed at, held a hand during a last breath & seen the joy in a face as a loved one opens their eyes again.
Perhaps my favorite part of any shift, which is not always a possibility, is to sit & ask someone about their life. We talk about what brought them here, how they have made it married 70 years or even what advise they could share with a young man like me. Recently I had a patient, a very kind middle aged man at the end up his life. For a half hour work slowed & I had the opportunity to sit with him at his bedside to talk about life, death & faith.
Before I left his room I asked him, "Do you feel at peace leaving here? Do you feel ready to go?" He responded, "Others will live longer than me but I have had so much love & forgiveness in a short time that I have no regrets. I would rather leave now with all this love, than for someone else to leave that has none at all. I am ready to go home." This is what he told me with a wrinkled smile as he was stuck in bed with tubes & IVs. His family walked in shortly after as I walked out barely holding it together.
Nursing has turned out to be far more than a job but a means to build me into a man that would love better & draw me nearer to my Father. It has been a way to build relationships, mend old wounds, be with someone when they need it most. As I step into my second year & hopefully many more, my hope is to carry joy & serve to my fullest; just as I wanted when my dream was to deliver soda-pop & drive off into a Colorado sunset.
You see, I wanted to drive 7-Up delivery trucks because I loved semi-trucks & drinking 7 up soda-pop. My imagination told me of the joy I could bring to others when I dropped off a case of 7-Up & how eager they would be to see me return as I would drive off into the Colorado sunset in my super-awesome truck.
Currently I do not drive trucks filled to the brim with sugary beverages but I still see the value in my childhood ambition; bringing good to others & having joy in your work. As God would have it, I would not end up driving trucks, playing professional football or being doctor; He had something better in mind for me.
Last Halloween I wore my best slacks & tie into my first day of work. I nearly wore my Harry Potter costume but realized this may not be this first impression I want to have with my peers & staff. Each article of clothing was meticulously hung up the night before & my lunch was packed extra healthy for extra brain power. An excited kind of nervous overwhelmed me that morning that I awoke to several alarms thinking of all the preparation to this point & being thankful for all the great promises that had been seen to fruition. This coming Wednesday marks the end of my first year working as a nurse & I could not be more thankful or think of a place I would rather be.
My nursing relationship set off as two lovers destined to be. I woke with eagerness & excitement each morning & left each night with fullness & thanks. This was a season, like all seasons, that shifted. Soon the infatuation slipped away which forced me to trust deeper & work harder to find ways to love. The realization of how my patients were trusting me with their lives set in & nearly paralyzed me but God helped me to work each day as I prayed for safety & gentleness with my them. He put me with individuals & situations I had never dreamed of experiencing coming from my small, middle-class hometown of Berthoud. In short, in a job where I thought I would love & serve within the constraints of my imagination I was instead being broken down & rebuilt so I could love & serve in a far better way. In my 12 hour shifts I have been prayed for, cursed at, held a hand during a last breath & seen the joy in a face as a loved one opens their eyes again.
Perhaps my favorite part of any shift, which is not always a possibility, is to sit & ask someone about their life. We talk about what brought them here, how they have made it married 70 years or even what advise they could share with a young man like me. Recently I had a patient, a very kind middle aged man at the end up his life. For a half hour work slowed & I had the opportunity to sit with him at his bedside to talk about life, death & faith.
Before I left his room I asked him, "Do you feel at peace leaving here? Do you feel ready to go?" He responded, "Others will live longer than me but I have had so much love & forgiveness in a short time that I have no regrets. I would rather leave now with all this love, than for someone else to leave that has none at all. I am ready to go home." This is what he told me with a wrinkled smile as he was stuck in bed with tubes & IVs. His family walked in shortly after as I walked out barely holding it together.
Nursing has turned out to be far more than a job but a means to build me into a man that would love better & draw me nearer to my Father. It has been a way to build relationships, mend old wounds, be with someone when they need it most. As I step into my second year & hopefully many more, my hope is to carry joy & serve to my fullest; just as I wanted when my dream was to deliver soda-pop & drive off into a Colorado sunset.
Thursday, September 6, 2012
Not Your Will
Jesus teaches me to pray each day, a simple prayer with incomprehensible results & implications. He says, "Lord, your will be done." When I do this, in my heart of hearts, God does one of two things for me; one, if it is not His will He will gracefully bring this adventure, relationship... to a close; two, if it is His will, He will set this thing ablaze with so much light it is impossible to contain solely to yourself. It will be a light reaching impossible heights & the darkest corners of our hearts.
When I avoid this prayer, or recite it with lukewarm intentions, I fall short. I fall into a bitter end or some prideful victory with no one beside me to thank.
Let us remember to pray this simple prayer with zeal, passion & frequency. For if things are to end, let them end gracefully. If they are to continue, let them burn brighter than any star or light we can imagine. That is God's will for us in many things; to be graceful & full of light.
When I avoid this prayer, or recite it with lukewarm intentions, I fall short. I fall into a bitter end or some prideful victory with no one beside me to thank.
Let us remember to pray this simple prayer with zeal, passion & frequency. For if things are to end, let them end gracefully. If they are to continue, let them burn brighter than any star or light we can imagine. That is God's will for us in many things; to be graceful & full of light.
Monday, July 23, 2012
Mailbox
Tonight I walked in the rain.
A shuffle to my mailbox, eyes distracted by a million little explosions in each passing puddle.
My letters & debts tucked behind, secured by an old belt with a shirt pulled over top.
Tonight I walked in the rain.
My clothes freckled from the colorful, tearful clouds as the sun dropped low.
My cap pulled off to feel coolness, my head lifted high to feel clean.
Tonight I walked in the rain,
Far past my small apartment in a slow & deliberate way.
No pain to pull apart, no solution to obtain.
Tonight I walked in the rain
And smiled because of it,
Perhaps for the first time.
A shuffle to my mailbox, eyes distracted by a million little explosions in each passing puddle.
My letters & debts tucked behind, secured by an old belt with a shirt pulled over top.
Tonight I walked in the rain.
My clothes freckled from the colorful, tearful clouds as the sun dropped low.
My cap pulled off to feel coolness, my head lifted high to feel clean.
Tonight I walked in the rain,
Far past my small apartment in a slow & deliberate way.
No pain to pull apart, no solution to obtain.
Tonight I walked in the rain
And smiled because of it,
Perhaps for the first time.
Monday, July 9, 2012
All things are passing.
It was a very blustery day in Denver but also a day off work so the rain could do nothing to damper my spirits. My apartment gutters were overflowing with a long overdue monsoon, bringing these Colorado fires closer to an ends. The storm drains only barely kept up as small rivers flowed down the gutters of the city. The view was enhanced as I took to the wheel of my little truck; there is a unique charm when driving in a summer rain storm.
I recently replaced my windshield wipers. This may seem like a silly fact except for my view was exceptional because of it. The clouds were towering but white as ever & far bigger the our cities skyscrapers. My targets were clear as I speedily swerved to hit all the puddles I could; always feeling beams of joy as rain water exploded over the hood of my truck. But, even with the freedom of a day off, soon enough I felt something was missing so I did what any good boy should, I called my mother.
My mom always has insight & wisdom to share; almost every time we talk there is something great she offers me. When she speaks she speaks from experience & love, being a nurse over 30 years now she has plenty to teach me. Today we talked over something brutally honest & entirely real, suffering.
Whether or not I like to admit it, most of the days in my life have had some element of suffering. There is much joy to be had in each day but also much suffering. The kind of suffering in my life is a personal kind, the kind another might see & think nothing of it but it is life changing to me. I suffer because of what I have done, from the things I know & the things I don't. I suffer because those I love suffer & so many other reasons.
We all suffer & if this is going to happen in our lives we may as well take a moment to understand how to do it well.
There are two thoughts & a question I carry with me day to day in relation to this suffering. The first is something my big brother shared with me some time ago. Making a long story very short, one day I woke my brother up from a mid afternoon nap & asked him, " Sam, how do I let go? How do I find myself truly well?" He told me with a yawn & a smile, "Jackson, don't pretend you are anywhere other than where you are. Don't pretend to feel anything other than what your are feeling. For a short time understand exactly what it is you are going through. Then, in that understanding, give it up in prayer. Whatever it may be." This is the first thing I do my best to remember. The second is the wisdom found in the Book of James chapter 1 where he writes, "Consider it pure joy my brothers when you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you my mature and complete, not lacking anything." Each time I face trial in my life & I choose to turn it over to God, I mature. God gives purpose even to my pain.
The final thing I carry with me is a multifaceted question; am I willing suffer each day? But, even more, what am I willing to suffer for? If I choose to endure the day only for myself my strength will fall short. If I choose to suffer for others but look to myself for sturdiness, I will let them down ultimately. But, if only for a second, I can ask God for guidance He will see me through. He is the the only one in my life that has never let me down, the only one that has always been true.
My brother gave a a prayer card the other day with an inscribed prayer from Saint Teresa, it says this...
"Let nothing disturb you, nothing frighten you.
All things are passing.
God never changes.
Patience obtains all things.
Nothing is wanting to him who posses God.
God alone suffices."
If we are to suffer, let us suffer well.
I recently replaced my windshield wipers. This may seem like a silly fact except for my view was exceptional because of it. The clouds were towering but white as ever & far bigger the our cities skyscrapers. My targets were clear as I speedily swerved to hit all the puddles I could; always feeling beams of joy as rain water exploded over the hood of my truck. But, even with the freedom of a day off, soon enough I felt something was missing so I did what any good boy should, I called my mother.
My mom always has insight & wisdom to share; almost every time we talk there is something great she offers me. When she speaks she speaks from experience & love, being a nurse over 30 years now she has plenty to teach me. Today we talked over something brutally honest & entirely real, suffering.
Whether or not I like to admit it, most of the days in my life have had some element of suffering. There is much joy to be had in each day but also much suffering. The kind of suffering in my life is a personal kind, the kind another might see & think nothing of it but it is life changing to me. I suffer because of what I have done, from the things I know & the things I don't. I suffer because those I love suffer & so many other reasons.
We all suffer & if this is going to happen in our lives we may as well take a moment to understand how to do it well.
There are two thoughts & a question I carry with me day to day in relation to this suffering. The first is something my big brother shared with me some time ago. Making a long story very short, one day I woke my brother up from a mid afternoon nap & asked him, " Sam, how do I let go? How do I find myself truly well?" He told me with a yawn & a smile, "Jackson, don't pretend you are anywhere other than where you are. Don't pretend to feel anything other than what your are feeling. For a short time understand exactly what it is you are going through. Then, in that understanding, give it up in prayer. Whatever it may be." This is the first thing I do my best to remember. The second is the wisdom found in the Book of James chapter 1 where he writes, "Consider it pure joy my brothers when you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you my mature and complete, not lacking anything." Each time I face trial in my life & I choose to turn it over to God, I mature. God gives purpose even to my pain.
The final thing I carry with me is a multifaceted question; am I willing suffer each day? But, even more, what am I willing to suffer for? If I choose to endure the day only for myself my strength will fall short. If I choose to suffer for others but look to myself for sturdiness, I will let them down ultimately. But, if only for a second, I can ask God for guidance He will see me through. He is the the only one in my life that has never let me down, the only one that has always been true.
My brother gave a a prayer card the other day with an inscribed prayer from Saint Teresa, it says this...
"Let nothing disturb you, nothing frighten you.
All things are passing.
God never changes.
Patience obtains all things.
Nothing is wanting to him who posses God.
God alone suffices."
If we are to suffer, let us suffer well.
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
Treasures in Heaven
Yesterday I drove back to my small, third story apartment in Denver's heart after spending several days with those I love around my beautiful home state of Colorado. The weather here has been setting record highs with more sunshine than I knew what to do with but a compounding lack of summer rain that has left our mountains & plains like an eager tinderbox. Each time I seek an update on a current fire it seems I hear of a new fire that has just begun, it has been surreal & quite frankly, horrifying. With around one dozen active fires in the state we are in need of rain & hope more than ever.
The sun was beating down on my little white truck on my commute home to the extent that my eleven year old air conditioner could hardly keep the heat at bay. I cut through Boulder on my way to Denver to visit a friend & drove through several small, summer showers but each were missing their mark in our parched foothills. My rear view reflected the combined smoke of several westward fires as my drive took me east. During the drive I had received several phone calls from loved ones both indirectly & directly affected by the fire, the unknown striking fear in their hearts & my own.
What will be lost? Is everyone okay? How much will this fire grow? How can this even happen?
These questions were cause for speculation across the Colorado media & in my own mind as I maneuvered my truck into a narrow parking space. I grabbed my pack full of dirty clothes & a small handful of birthday cards from my passenger seat & went inside to to seek a bit of quite. The peace was short lived as I opened my living room blinds & my eyes took in the level of disaster across the front range. The small, summer showers that had been chasing me around Boulder had grown in size as they reached Denver, twisting & contorting the trees with their strong winds & blocking all but an orange speck of the sun with it's dark, foreboding clouds. Lightning was flashing through the sky in great numbers. I went to stream the local news stations on my computer for the most current information. With the news playing in the background I looked left from my window to see the smoke from Waldo Canyon; to the right was the 87,000 acre High Park fire. The reporters focused on the 65 mile per hour winds carrying the fire over the foothill barrier & rushing into the city of Colorado Springs. There the fire remains, creeping into the City of Colorado Springs, just blocks from my old home & leaving several loved ones away from theirs.
Thirty-two thousand Colorado Springs citizens have gathered their treasures & evacuated as quickly as possible. One close friend of mine made it home with a policeman warning she had five minutes to gather anything she could during the mandatory evacuation. But as so many stood with heartbreaking questions, starring into the flames that rushed toward the city feeling helpless, there was still hope abound. Even I, being indirectly affected by this tragedy, felt hope for the city & it's people from my secluded & distant apartment. While it is truly devastating to lose a home, I watched interview after interview of evacuees giving thanks for the safety of their loved ones & less attachment to the material things that can be replaced.
As this fire continues to grow & destroy our homes, let it's glow highlight our love for one another, our faith, our hope. Let it remind us that our truest & deepest treasures are those that no fire, disaster or death can touch or take away. The things of this world can be gone today & replaced tomorrow but not love, faith or hope; these cannot be taken away unless we choose to release them. As I see people open their homes to those that are without, churches opening their doors in the middle of the night for prayer & refuge & hear of families sharing tears of thanks for safety & love, I have hope. While I pray this fire ends, it seems the bigger it gets the more we treasure one another, love bigger & are more generous than ever.
I guess that is one of the brighter sides to such a tragedy, we are reminded what our true treasures are & have always been.
The sun was beating down on my little white truck on my commute home to the extent that my eleven year old air conditioner could hardly keep the heat at bay. I cut through Boulder on my way to Denver to visit a friend & drove through several small, summer showers but each were missing their mark in our parched foothills. My rear view reflected the combined smoke of several westward fires as my drive took me east. During the drive I had received several phone calls from loved ones both indirectly & directly affected by the fire, the unknown striking fear in their hearts & my own.
What will be lost? Is everyone okay? How much will this fire grow? How can this even happen?
These questions were cause for speculation across the Colorado media & in my own mind as I maneuvered my truck into a narrow parking space. I grabbed my pack full of dirty clothes & a small handful of birthday cards from my passenger seat & went inside to to seek a bit of quite. The peace was short lived as I opened my living room blinds & my eyes took in the level of disaster across the front range. The small, summer showers that had been chasing me around Boulder had grown in size as they reached Denver, twisting & contorting the trees with their strong winds & blocking all but an orange speck of the sun with it's dark, foreboding clouds. Lightning was flashing through the sky in great numbers. I went to stream the local news stations on my computer for the most current information. With the news playing in the background I looked left from my window to see the smoke from Waldo Canyon; to the right was the 87,000 acre High Park fire. The reporters focused on the 65 mile per hour winds carrying the fire over the foothill barrier & rushing into the city of Colorado Springs. There the fire remains, creeping into the City of Colorado Springs, just blocks from my old home & leaving several loved ones away from theirs.
Thirty-two thousand Colorado Springs citizens have gathered their treasures & evacuated as quickly as possible. One close friend of mine made it home with a policeman warning she had five minutes to gather anything she could during the mandatory evacuation. But as so many stood with heartbreaking questions, starring into the flames that rushed toward the city feeling helpless, there was still hope abound. Even I, being indirectly affected by this tragedy, felt hope for the city & it's people from my secluded & distant apartment. While it is truly devastating to lose a home, I watched interview after interview of evacuees giving thanks for the safety of their loved ones & less attachment to the material things that can be replaced.
As this fire continues to grow & destroy our homes, let it's glow highlight our love for one another, our faith, our hope. Let it remind us that our truest & deepest treasures are those that no fire, disaster or death can touch or take away. The things of this world can be gone today & replaced tomorrow but not love, faith or hope; these cannot be taken away unless we choose to release them. As I see people open their homes to those that are without, churches opening their doors in the middle of the night for prayer & refuge & hear of families sharing tears of thanks for safety & love, I have hope. While I pray this fire ends, it seems the bigger it gets the more we treasure one another, love bigger & are more generous than ever.
I guess that is one of the brighter sides to such a tragedy, we are reminded what our true treasures are & have always been.
Thursday, May 17, 2012
Coming home.
Just a few minutes ago I walked back into this apartment after a stroll to dinner & then through the park with a good friend. For a few hours my buddy & I talked about God in our lives, how He moves in every season & all He has seen us through whether or not we have chosen to see Him. All the while offering our best insight, prayers & listening ear to one another.
This is perhaps one of my favorite things in this life; sharing stories with good friends & finding God's work in areas never seen before. Then together giving thanks to a Father that loves selflessly. Be it rain or shine, temptation & trial, He has never let me down. (1 Corinthians 10:13). In these fleeting moments of gratitude & relationship I feel as though I am doing something right, like a child making his Father proud. In these moments I am full & feel so close to home.
Jesus reminds us, as recounted by John, "I am the resurrection & the life. He who believes in me will live, even though he dies; & whoever ever lives & believes in me will never die. Do you Believe this?"
Do I? I am finding each day I do a little more & it reflects in my life. Days where this belief sinks to my bones & deep within my heart I am able to love in ways & to levels I could never before. But only by the grace of God. Only when I surrender myself as a instrument for His love am I able to love well.
I do not have many more words to describe this love that I am feeling & if I did I doubt it would be a very good love at all. The best words we can manifest fall short of a true love. The only way I can explain this all is by saying I feel like I am coming home. Allowing Jesus into my heart is like coming home to a place where I feel I am who I was made to be & am loved as I was made to be loved.
"T'was Grace that brought us safe thus far
and Grace will lead us home."
This is perhaps one of my favorite things in this life; sharing stories with good friends & finding God's work in areas never seen before. Then together giving thanks to a Father that loves selflessly. Be it rain or shine, temptation & trial, He has never let me down. (1 Corinthians 10:13). In these fleeting moments of gratitude & relationship I feel as though I am doing something right, like a child making his Father proud. In these moments I am full & feel so close to home.
Jesus reminds us, as recounted by John, "I am the resurrection & the life. He who believes in me will live, even though he dies; & whoever ever lives & believes in me will never die. Do you Believe this?"
Do I? I am finding each day I do a little more & it reflects in my life. Days where this belief sinks to my bones & deep within my heart I am able to love in ways & to levels I could never before. But only by the grace of God. Only when I surrender myself as a instrument for His love am I able to love well.
I do not have many more words to describe this love that I am feeling & if I did I doubt it would be a very good love at all. The best words we can manifest fall short of a true love. The only way I can explain this all is by saying I feel like I am coming home. Allowing Jesus into my heart is like coming home to a place where I feel I am who I was made to be & am loved as I was made to be loved.
"T'was Grace that brought us safe thus far
and Grace will lead us home."
Friday, May 11, 2012
The Meadow
Each year I visit the meadow, I wish I had a picture to show you. Except for the snowy months you will find at the meadow tiny mountain critters, wild flowers & tall grass up to the edge of it's aspen tree border. If you are here you will be tucked away in the Sangre de Cristo mountain range at over 11,000 feet. If you are here or have a meadow of your own in mind, you will know better whats tickling around in my head.
The hike up to the meadow begins at the outskirts of a small town called Crestone where our family still visit my grandpa's old home. Crestone is known for few things; it's crystal shops, dense hippie population & perhaps most for it's proximity to some of Colorado's most beautiful & dangerous mountains. A few miles of switchback trails will spit you out directly at the meadows edge. The reward for a quick day hike is great as you see a golden meadow scattered with flowers & a back drop of 2,000 foot cliffs jetting even higher & leaving you with in undeniable sense of insignificance.
The grandeur of the scenery will leave you in awe but just lately something else stuck me, the relationship of the meadow & it's flowers. You see, the flowers are there because of the meadow. They may go as the seasons change but they will come back, they always do. Virgin snow covers the meadow late in the year & the various beauties of wild flowers grow in new places, with new shades & colors as winter turns to spring again.
Isn't this meadow like love? The place where all good things grow in a dynamic way; hope, forgiveness & the like? Love grows flowers of hope but never in the same way twice & hope cannot grow without love, just as the flowers cannot grow without the meadow. When love is covered with the cold of winter you can believe with all your heart the snow will melt & give nourishment for new life.
If we are looking for hope, forgiveness, justice... first let us look not to be loved but to love others. The seasons will change, wild flowers will grow but only when we love first.
"There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under the heavens."
The hike up to the meadow begins at the outskirts of a small town called Crestone where our family still visit my grandpa's old home. Crestone is known for few things; it's crystal shops, dense hippie population & perhaps most for it's proximity to some of Colorado's most beautiful & dangerous mountains. A few miles of switchback trails will spit you out directly at the meadows edge. The reward for a quick day hike is great as you see a golden meadow scattered with flowers & a back drop of 2,000 foot cliffs jetting even higher & leaving you with in undeniable sense of insignificance.
The grandeur of the scenery will leave you in awe but just lately something else stuck me, the relationship of the meadow & it's flowers. You see, the flowers are there because of the meadow. They may go as the seasons change but they will come back, they always do. Virgin snow covers the meadow late in the year & the various beauties of wild flowers grow in new places, with new shades & colors as winter turns to spring again.
Isn't this meadow like love? The place where all good things grow in a dynamic way; hope, forgiveness & the like? Love grows flowers of hope but never in the same way twice & hope cannot grow without love, just as the flowers cannot grow without the meadow. When love is covered with the cold of winter you can believe with all your heart the snow will melt & give nourishment for new life.
If we are looking for hope, forgiveness, justice... first let us look not to be loved but to love others. The seasons will change, wild flowers will grow but only when we love first.
"There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under the heavens."
Friday, May 4, 2012
Walls & Windows
Mother Teresa once wrote how she saw her self as nothing more than a pen, an instrument for God to write a love story. What a humble & beautiful perspective on a humble & beautiful life.
Today I woke with the warmth of the sunshine through my blinds & wondered how often I am a window the sun shines through? Is God's love evident in my life? Or do I act as a wall that blocks any warmth & light from reaching others? I find I am much more often a wall.
A life surrounded by walls of untended hurts, independence & isolation often lets little light in. But I am striving to with every ounce of me to become a window & draw the blind so that may share God's love with you.
Becoming a medium for God's love is like drawing water from an endless well, like being a window the sun shines through.
"You are the light of the world." -JC
Today I woke with the warmth of the sunshine through my blinds & wondered how often I am a window the sun shines through? Is God's love evident in my life? Or do I act as a wall that blocks any warmth & light from reaching others? I find I am much more often a wall.
A life surrounded by walls of untended hurts, independence & isolation often lets little light in. But I am striving to with every ounce of me to become a window & draw the blind so that may share God's love with you.
Becoming a medium for God's love is like drawing water from an endless well, like being a window the sun shines through.
"You are the light of the world." -JC
Sunday, April 29, 2012
So long, lonesome
"Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes? Look at the birds in the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, yet you heavenly Father feeds them, Are you not more valuable than they? Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?" Matthew 6:25-27
Three out of my seven days a week I awake with somewhat of a routine. First my alarm clock sounds & I ever so reluctantly ease from my warm bed just as I would slowly slip into a icy swimming pool on some idle, summer afternoon. My cereal of choice is then poured & consumed leaving enough time to throw on my scrubs, put some water in my hair to tame my bed-head, then grab my badge & snacks on the way out the door for work. Mornings at in this little studio are usually fast paced & short lived because I feel the snooze button is the next best invention to footy pajamas.
A few minutes of quiet exist on my drive into work. My little white truck (aka White Lightning) so reliably starts for me as it has done the past several years & the heater kicks in just before I pull into the parking lot at work. Some days by this point in the morning I have let fear begin to whisper to me. Will I have what it takes to to care for my patients today? Do I have what it takes to serve outside myself? Will I get a lunch break? How can I feel so alone when I am surrounded by such great people? And so on. My fear & worry exists before & after I work as I examine all the things that have been or may be. So this same fearful trend occurs in my relationships, in my school-work or almost any other realm of life. This fear is like when we were afraid of the dark as a child or just before you see that scary person in that scary movie you shouldn't even be watching. Our imagination can easily trend towards fear & while we recognize we shouldn't believe everything we think or feel, it can be hard not to. But just we turn on the lights or see that scary person in the movie, our fear often subsides because our imagination cannot run freely.
For me, worry, just like fear, is a lonely place to be, not because we are alone but because we feel alone.
More often than not I find myself in a state or place that doesn't easily permit reliance on prayer & God, because of that I can worry a great deal. What a blessing it is to think but what what a burden it can be to over do it or let your thoughts carousel wildly back around & around until you are left in a daze. Believe it or not, this kind of 'carousel worry' used to define much of my thinking. My thoughts had & still often have little discipline & guidance so I frequently let them take me where it may all while gritting my teeth & bearing it.
Fear, like everything, has an origin & lately I have begun to recognize this. In my relationships, my faith & my thinking I have begun to expose the fear in my life. Just like in a scary movie, once fear is exposed it regains it's normalcy or at least becomes less than what your imagination said it to be. Just like a doctor must trace a disease back to it's cause in order to cure it, so must we trace our fear back to it's start. Treating the symptoms of a disease does nothing to eradicate it; for that we must know it's cause. In this we must be brave & seek help. Through this unraveling we must not choose to be alone. Bring fear into the light & the darkness will soon leave; choose to include others in this journey & loneliness will be replaced with love.
A much wiser man than myself once wrote this-
"I do not think that all who choose wrong roads perish; but their rescue consists of being put back on the right road. A sum can be put right: but only by going back till you find the error and working it afresh from that point, never by simply going on. Evil can be undone, but it cannot 'develop' into good. Time does not heal it. The spell must be unwound, bit by bit, 'with backward mutters of dissevering power' -or else not. It is still 'either-or'. If we insist on keeping Hell (or even Earth) we shall not see Heaven: if we accept Heaven we shall not be able to retain the smallest most intimate souvenirs of Hell." - C.S. Lewis, The Great Divorce
Three out of my seven days a week I awake with somewhat of a routine. First my alarm clock sounds & I ever so reluctantly ease from my warm bed just as I would slowly slip into a icy swimming pool on some idle, summer afternoon. My cereal of choice is then poured & consumed leaving enough time to throw on my scrubs, put some water in my hair to tame my bed-head, then grab my badge & snacks on the way out the door for work. Mornings at in this little studio are usually fast paced & short lived because I feel the snooze button is the next best invention to footy pajamas.
A few minutes of quiet exist on my drive into work. My little white truck (aka White Lightning) so reliably starts for me as it has done the past several years & the heater kicks in just before I pull into the parking lot at work. Some days by this point in the morning I have let fear begin to whisper to me. Will I have what it takes to to care for my patients today? Do I have what it takes to serve outside myself? Will I get a lunch break? How can I feel so alone when I am surrounded by such great people? And so on. My fear & worry exists before & after I work as I examine all the things that have been or may be. So this same fearful trend occurs in my relationships, in my school-work or almost any other realm of life. This fear is like when we were afraid of the dark as a child or just before you see that scary person in that scary movie you shouldn't even be watching. Our imagination can easily trend towards fear & while we recognize we shouldn't believe everything we think or feel, it can be hard not to. But just we turn on the lights or see that scary person in the movie, our fear often subsides because our imagination cannot run freely.
For me, worry, just like fear, is a lonely place to be, not because we are alone but because we feel alone.
More often than not I find myself in a state or place that doesn't easily permit reliance on prayer & God, because of that I can worry a great deal. What a blessing it is to think but what what a burden it can be to over do it or let your thoughts carousel wildly back around & around until you are left in a daze. Believe it or not, this kind of 'carousel worry' used to define much of my thinking. My thoughts had & still often have little discipline & guidance so I frequently let them take me where it may all while gritting my teeth & bearing it.
Fear, like everything, has an origin & lately I have begun to recognize this. In my relationships, my faith & my thinking I have begun to expose the fear in my life. Just like in a scary movie, once fear is exposed it regains it's normalcy or at least becomes less than what your imagination said it to be. Just like a doctor must trace a disease back to it's cause in order to cure it, so must we trace our fear back to it's start. Treating the symptoms of a disease does nothing to eradicate it; for that we must know it's cause. In this we must be brave & seek help. Through this unraveling we must not choose to be alone. Bring fear into the light & the darkness will soon leave; choose to include others in this journey & loneliness will be replaced with love.
A much wiser man than myself once wrote this-
"I do not think that all who choose wrong roads perish; but their rescue consists of being put back on the right road. A sum can be put right: but only by going back till you find the error and working it afresh from that point, never by simply going on. Evil can be undone, but it cannot 'develop' into good. Time does not heal it. The spell must be unwound, bit by bit, 'with backward mutters of dissevering power' -or else not. It is still 'either-or'. If we insist on keeping Hell (or even Earth) we shall not see Heaven: if we accept Heaven we shall not be able to retain the smallest most intimate souvenirs of Hell." - C.S. Lewis, The Great Divorce
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Charm & Hope
Denver is a new home for me & I am one of it's newest inhabitants, going on four months now. While I have spent sometime passing through this city over the years, there is a certain perspective I have only gained since I have begun receiving mail & paying rent here. There is this certain charm & hope which is nearly tangible when you take a winter walk through the park with fresh snowfall crunching beneath each step or exchange smiles with the frequenters holding the 'God Bless' signs at most major intersections. The attractiveness is enhanced with every glance westward as the city is back dropped by some of the most beautiful mountains our world knows, all of which are blanketed by Winter's glory. Denver holds opportunity & beauty but there is also a certain darkness that is augmented by it's immensity & even larger unfulfilled needs. The darkness is similar to that in other cities but such a large population can overwhelm even the best intentioned individual.
Just a few weeks ago a young women spoke at the very beginning of Sunday morning church. This particular Sunday is marked in my mind for the several feet of snow that lined the city streets leaving dozens of people nose diving their cars into snowy parking spots only to recover them with help from the congregation later on. As if parking in Denver weren't difficult enough to begin with. I scurried inside with my head tucked to keep the wind from slipping in my jacket & was immediately comforted by the warmth of the room where so many bodies were gathered to spend time with one another & with our Father. The young women began her introductions & shared a particularly moving testimony of her journey of faith in this city. This is my attempt to briefly recapture it.
After making a home in Denver her heart moved for the homeless where she joined others that shared her calling to help. Soon she was encouraged by others in the group to make her own sign & go to the intersections of Denver to gain perspective into this season of need for some. She was scared to do this at first & her pride made this decision even more difficult. She was not in financial need, a definite spiritual one, so she struggled to find the courage to write her sign (Anything Helps), choose her location & have the resolve to go. Going into this she knew that any money she did receive would be directly used for the homeless in the community, this helped motivate her.
The day came where she found herself on a popular & traffic dense street. She settled there, feeling out of sorts. Not but a few minutes later a man walked by eating a burger & handed her some spare change from his meal, passed along a smile & accompanying, "God Bless". This was all it took for her heart to break & so she turned to run after the man to return his money. With tears in her eyes she began, "Please, I don't deserve this. Take..." But she was cut off by the stranger closing her hand with the change still in it. He looked at her & said, "It is okay, I understand. I am homeless too." He walked away with a smile & I am sure God was smiling too.
God always offers His unfailing love & hope so long as we are willing to accept it & a brightness that no darkness can ever contend with so long as we are willing to see it. Where there is love, hope & light, there is God. Remember that when you walk down the street, go to work or school each day, lay in your bed at night that God is within you & because of that, "You are the light of the world". When you carry such a light within you there is, without a doubt, a brighter side to everything.
Just a few weeks ago a young women spoke at the very beginning of Sunday morning church. This particular Sunday is marked in my mind for the several feet of snow that lined the city streets leaving dozens of people nose diving their cars into snowy parking spots only to recover them with help from the congregation later on. As if parking in Denver weren't difficult enough to begin with. I scurried inside with my head tucked to keep the wind from slipping in my jacket & was immediately comforted by the warmth of the room where so many bodies were gathered to spend time with one another & with our Father. The young women began her introductions & shared a particularly moving testimony of her journey of faith in this city. This is my attempt to briefly recapture it.
After making a home in Denver her heart moved for the homeless where she joined others that shared her calling to help. Soon she was encouraged by others in the group to make her own sign & go to the intersections of Denver to gain perspective into this season of need for some. She was scared to do this at first & her pride made this decision even more difficult. She was not in financial need, a definite spiritual one, so she struggled to find the courage to write her sign (Anything Helps), choose her location & have the resolve to go. Going into this she knew that any money she did receive would be directly used for the homeless in the community, this helped motivate her.
The day came where she found herself on a popular & traffic dense street. She settled there, feeling out of sorts. Not but a few minutes later a man walked by eating a burger & handed her some spare change from his meal, passed along a smile & accompanying, "God Bless". This was all it took for her heart to break & so she turned to run after the man to return his money. With tears in her eyes she began, "Please, I don't deserve this. Take..." But she was cut off by the stranger closing her hand with the change still in it. He looked at her & said, "It is okay, I understand. I am homeless too." He walked away with a smile & I am sure God was smiling too.
God always offers His unfailing love & hope so long as we are willing to accept it & a brightness that no darkness can ever contend with so long as we are willing to see it. Where there is love, hope & light, there is God. Remember that when you walk down the street, go to work or school each day, lay in your bed at night that God is within you & because of that, "You are the light of the world". When you carry such a light within you there is, without a doubt, a brighter side to everything.
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