While Gary was fixing supper tonight, I sat nearby and read to him. He loved it. I read aloud "The Tale of Three Trees," a great parable, captured in a children's book. Especially at this time of year. A beautifully written illustration of God's redemptive work, taking our live circumstances and using all things for His perfect plan - even when we wonder what in the world is going on!
Gary was still listening and still cooking, so I read more. I read chapter 12 of Six Hours...
"The Fish and the Falls, a legend of grace." I know there was a time in my life when I wouldn't have "gotten" it. But, boy, do I now! All my strongest, bravest efforts in vain. Saved only by His amazing grace, His free gift.
I look forward to hearing your thoughts! Feel free to email me if you don't want to post.
And have a fantastic day!
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Two Tombstones
It was a Portland perfect day for a walk in the cemetery. As per normal, the cloud cover was low, the sky was gray, and rain was consistently inconsistent. I donned my rubber boots – black with aqua polka dots – my red London Fog rain jacket, complete with hood and lining, and my umbrella. Now, this is no plain umbrella. This fabulous bumbershoot, given as the perfect gift by a dear PA friend our first year in Portland, looks like the inside of a box of chocolates, wrappers and all. Delicious! So, bottom line, I was very cute, if not the fashionista you may have imagined. That’s Portland. You can wear just about anything, whether it matches or not, and it’s all good. “Keep Portland Weird” is the motto and sometimes I am pretty good at doing my part.
After reading Chapter 3 of Six Hours, I knew a cemetery walk was a must-do. Now I have my own “Two Tombstones” story and am eager to share with you.
It’s just a small square of land, directly across from the church, on the corner of Glisan and 90th. We’ve walked past it thousands of times. There are probably less than 100 grave markers on the site, but such a variety, each one representing the person who lived life and was loved enough for someone to bury them there. Our community is culturally diverse, and this fact was evidenced in the epitaphs on the tombstones, some in Russian, some in Chinese, many in English. The stones, dating back to the 1800s tell of short lives ~ infant twins who lived just 3 months; brothers ages 8 and 3, who died of diphtheria just four days apart. And long lives. One indicates beloved mother, grandmother, great grandmother and great great grandmother. Two side by side bear witness to a husband and wife who died within days of one another. People with stories we will never know.
As I walked and read, the rain beating down on my chocolate umbrella, I was especially intrigued by an unusual marker. It was the flat kind, rose-colored, etched on the bottom left with an animal paw bearing five claws. On the opposite corner was a spiderweb-looking thing, and three feathers dangling from it. Someone had placed some smooth, colored glass stones on top of the gravestone.
I surmised that this man, Charlo, who died just shy of age 53, was an American Indian. I realized that the spider web was a Dreamcatcher. I was lost in thought, when I saw that on the bottom, barely legible, was a one-line epitaph. It read, “All dressed up and nowhere to go.” It may have just been something Charlo was always saying or a private joke among friends, but I was immediately saddened. “Here,” I thought, “is my Grace Llewellen Smith.” Futility. Nothing to look forward to on the other side. Did he spend his life wishing, hoping, wanting, waiting for the opportunity that never came? Did he enter eternity without the hope of heaven? Oh, if only it had said, “All dressed up and finally, someplace to go!”
Just ten feet or so away was the marker of another young man, Dana, just 56 when he died. I imagine his family was not ready to let him go. Around the rectangle, it stated, “Loving husband and father” and “Greatly loved son and brother”. But their eternal hope was expressed by more words etched in the stone. “Faithful servant and witness of our Lord Jesus Christ” and “He finished well Phil 3:10”. And in these words, I, too, was reminded of the hope I share. Life is not futile. I have all eternity to celebrate! Because of six hours one Friday…and the Sunday that followed!
After reading Chapter 3 of Six Hours, I knew a cemetery walk was a must-do. Now I have my own “Two Tombstones” story and am eager to share with you.
It’s just a small square of land, directly across from the church, on the corner of Glisan and 90th. We’ve walked past it thousands of times. There are probably less than 100 grave markers on the site, but such a variety, each one representing the person who lived life and was loved enough for someone to bury them there. Our community is culturally diverse, and this fact was evidenced in the epitaphs on the tombstones, some in Russian, some in Chinese, many in English. The stones, dating back to the 1800s tell of short lives ~ infant twins who lived just 3 months; brothers ages 8 and 3, who died of diphtheria just four days apart. And long lives. One indicates beloved mother, grandmother, great grandmother and great great grandmother. Two side by side bear witness to a husband and wife who died within days of one another. People with stories we will never know.
As I walked and read, the rain beating down on my chocolate umbrella, I was especially intrigued by an unusual marker. It was the flat kind, rose-colored, etched on the bottom left with an animal paw bearing five claws. On the opposite corner was a spiderweb-looking thing, and three feathers dangling from it. Someone had placed some smooth, colored glass stones on top of the gravestone.I surmised that this man, Charlo, who died just shy of age 53, was an American Indian. I realized that the spider web was a Dreamcatcher. I was lost in thought, when I saw that on the bottom, barely legible, was a one-line epitaph. It read, “All dressed up and nowhere to go.” It may have just been something Charlo was always saying or a private joke among friends, but I was immediately saddened. “Here,” I thought, “is my Grace Llewellen Smith.” Futility. Nothing to look forward to on the other side. Did he spend his life wishing, hoping, wanting, waiting for the opportunity that never came? Did he enter eternity without the hope of heaven? Oh, if only it had said, “All dressed up and finally, someplace to go!”
Just ten feet or so away was the marker of another young man, Dana, just 56 when he died. I imagine his family was not ready to let him go. Around the rectangle, it stated, “Loving husband and father” and “Greatly loved son and brother”. But their eternal hope was expressed by more words etched in the stone. “Faithful servant and witness of our Lord Jesus Christ” and “He finished well Phil 3:10”. And in these words, I, too, was reminded of the hope I share. Life is not futile. I have all eternity to celebrate! Because of six hours one Friday…and the Sunday that followed!
Friday, March 5, 2010
Derailed!
So there I was, chugging along the train tracks of daily life, when suddenly, out of nowhere, WHAM!
Next thing I know my engine is down, sputtering alongside the tracks and the various cars of home and work and church and blogs, among others, form a massive pile-up, going nowhere. I've gotten side-tracked before. I know side-tracked all too well. I can be a great starter and a poor finisher. Sometimes my follow-through's just not there (it happens in tennis, too). Full of good intentions and chutzpa, I launch in, only to lose interest and bail out.
But this is different! This derailment totally took me by surprise, rendering me incapable of doing many of the things I've needed and wanted to do. Admittedly, I've had to focus on me, take care of me, make it through each day. And I don't like it.
Last Saturday, I was getting ready to leave the house and, seriously, I didn’t DO anything, but felt a sharp pain in my hip and down my leg. I tried to ignore it, but by the end of the evening, I was in excruciating pain, barely able to move. I had to cancel my Sunday responsibilities (that nearly killed me!) and made a first thing Monday appt with the chiropractor.
Pause here for me to say THANK YOU for all the prayers and support and encouragement through emails and phone calls and facebook posts. God hears and heals. Not instantly in this case, but slowly, and so surely in His perfect time. I so appreciate my enormous “family” – blood relatives and "brothers and sisters" near and far who have expressed loving concern and prayers for my strength and healing.
Little by little, stretching and heat and resting and trusting, I am getting back on track. I am reading Six Hours One Friday and thinking much about my life in light of Christ’s sacrifice, my pain in light of His suffering – for me. And I am praying for you. If you are sidetracked by other distractions, I encourage you to get back on board. If you, too, are derailed by unexpected circumstances or crises, keep your gaze fixed on Christ, holding to your anchor points, assured that our Father truly is the Blessed Controller of All Things.
Next thing I know my engine is down, sputtering alongside the tracks and the various cars of home and work and church and blogs, among others, form a massive pile-up, going nowhere. I've gotten side-tracked before. I know side-tracked all too well. I can be a great starter and a poor finisher. Sometimes my follow-through's just not there (it happens in tennis, too). Full of good intentions and chutzpa, I launch in, only to lose interest and bail out.
But this is different! This derailment totally took me by surprise, rendering me incapable of doing many of the things I've needed and wanted to do. Admittedly, I've had to focus on me, take care of me, make it through each day. And I don't like it.
Last Saturday, I was getting ready to leave the house and, seriously, I didn’t DO anything, but felt a sharp pain in my hip and down my leg. I tried to ignore it, but by the end of the evening, I was in excruciating pain, barely able to move. I had to cancel my Sunday responsibilities (that nearly killed me!) and made a first thing Monday appt with the chiropractor.
Pause here for me to say THANK YOU for all the prayers and support and encouragement through emails and phone calls and facebook posts. God hears and heals. Not instantly in this case, but slowly, and so surely in His perfect time. I so appreciate my enormous “family” – blood relatives and "brothers and sisters" near and far who have expressed loving concern and prayers for my strength and healing.
Little by little, stretching and heat and resting and trusting, I am getting back on track. I am reading Six Hours One Friday and thinking much about my life in light of Christ’s sacrifice, my pain in light of His suffering – for me. And I am praying for you. If you are sidetracked by other distractions, I encourage you to get back on board. If you, too, are derailed by unexpected circumstances or crises, keep your gaze fixed on Christ, holding to your anchor points, assured that our Father truly is the Blessed Controller of All Things.
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