Diana

Surprised by Grace

June 16, 2011 By Diana

It was an exhausting week.

We worked on our house,
we ran errands all over town,

we tried to remember the tons of details
that come with entertaining three dozen folks,
about 10 of whom are over 80.

We were celebrating my mom’s 90th
and we wanted to do it up right –
and I’d say we were successful.

It was a good party, people enjoyed each other,

we managed to stay warm,
despite the cool fog of early summer
on the central coast of California.

And mom felt the love.

But Monday dawned and I was done.

Just done.

And still there were things to finish up.

So I headed out mid-morning,

taking some reading along
for a much-needed lunch stop.

I went to a favorite beachside spot,

a place I’ve used for meetings with friends

and committees many times over these years.

And it was good to be there.

Good food, beautiful view. DEEP breath.

I took some sweet leisurely time to just enjoy the time

and the spot and the … s-p-a-c-e.

So I sauntered back to my car after enjoying the beachside ambience, and looked up as I unlocked the door.

This is what I saw.

Soaring, swaying brilliant color and grace.

At least three separate kites were soaring from the hillside behind the restaurant.

Effortless flight, exhilarating lightness.

Surprising, serendipitous pictures of beauty,

graceful reminders of this season of Pentecost

which we’ve just begun.

So, I stood by my car, door open,

camera in hand,

and looked around with

newly focused eyesight.

And I saw these sweet sparrows in the bare branches just to the left of the car.

And these guys getting ready to fly above the birds.

And this lovely, twisting tree,
clinging to the cliff just behind me.
I mean, I’ve probably eaten at this place 30 times –

and I never saw this tree.

Tell me, what else have I missed in this life of mine?

How many beauties have I been too busy

or too tired,

or too distracted

to glory in?

So I got in the car and tried to follow the sky people,

the ones brave enough to launch out into the blue.

I tried to find a spot to photograph them more closely,

but realized that this pesky tree was just in the way!

And then,

I looked again.

And that pesky tree was another piece of glory in my day.

A row of flame trees – glowing,

vibrating, radiating.

And I switched the focal point of my pictures,

loving the blur of the colorful kites behind the almost

iridescent red flowers.

So, I wonder.

What happens when we focus on one thing in this life,

one thing to the exclusion of others.

In that singular process, I wonder how often is it true that we don’t see what is right in front of our faces?

That beautiful, deliriously inviting thing

that God is doing just for our benefit;

that gift that’s waiting to be unwrapped and appreciated.

What if I had fiddled with focus,
moved around repeatedly to try and find a few more kites,
or another vantage point,
free of these ‘pesky’ red flowers?

What if I had missed this?

Oh, Lord! May my eyes always be open

to the beauty that you shower my way,

the glory that is waiting,
just beyond the periphery of my

oh-so-limited vision,

the surprising sweet fragrance of grace

that is tucked away in the

corners and crevasses of my everyday,

ordinary, extraordinary life.

Offering these thoughts and pictures to Laura, Laura and because I was too late for Jen at “Finding Heaven’s” Soli Deo Gratia sisterhood, also with Ann for her “Walk with Him Wednesday” series:

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Living Gratefully, Week Three

June 16, 2011 By Diana

Signing on with Michelle at “Graceful” for “Hear It, Use It” theme

(even though I didn’t hear it and therefore couldn’t use it),

and also joining

with Ann at “A Holy Experience” for her

Multitudes on Monday gratitude meme:

It’s been a wild and crazy week,

filled with celebration and hard work.

Most every day was crowded with errand running,

house cleaning and setting up to entertain a group

of 35 on Sunday afternoon.

Why?

My mother is turning 90 on July 6th,

and Sunday was THE date that worked for the schedules of my cousins, who would need to bring their own elderly parents – my mom’s siblings –

for any celebration we might plan.

Though we did not attend worship on Sunday morning,

we did manage to enjoy a teensy bit of reflective time

amidst the hustle and bustle of hosting this crowd.

It was Pentecost Sunday – and I was deeply

grateful all day for the gift of the Holy Spirit

in my mom’s life, and in my own.

And somehow celebrating her long and faithful life

deepened and enriched that gratitude.

27. Helium balloons – a perfect symbol for Pentecost somehow!

28. Deep pink peonies, enough to fill four vases and bring bright beauty throughout the house.

29. Light through the windows, one of the greatest gifts in this house God provided for us.

30. These colors, which just make me happy every

time I look at them.

31. The realization that a solid year of discomfort and displacement is what made this working and entertaining space possible. Sometimes the loveliest graces come out of confusion and mess, don’t they?

32. My beautiful mom, Ruth, whose life has been a picture of redemption and gracious hospitality for as long
as I can remember.

33. These crazy guys – with hearts like champions:

three of our six grandsons, using the prop box set up with the picture board! (The one in the boa took all the ‘people pix’ for the day. Thank you, Wes!)

34. The 5-year-olds getting into the act – with a ‘stalker’ cousin in the rear.

35. This man, who worked valiantly all week long and who is such a great host.

36. This gorgeous daughter who came early and stayed late and helped so much.

37. An amazing dessert buffet, including a cheese-cake made my our 12-year-old grandson (GREAT stuff, Joel – thanks) and lemon bars and brownies from our sister-in-law

(again – delish – thanks, Sandy).

38. Serendipitous sighting of these hang-gliders

on Monday morning.

39. These spectacular flowers which I barely saw when I was trying to snap the big kites, but were right in front of my face.

40. Pig-tails for the first time.

41. This sweet reminder of innocence and grace.
Linking with Amanda at “Serenity Now” for this week’s Weekend Bloggy Reader:

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Settling In

June 11, 2011 By Diana

Joining the Lauras very late this week – yes, it’s been that kind of week. Oy vey.

May I introduce you to…

…my office.

The one in my home, that is.

The one that has been sadly piled with box upon box,

memento upon memento,

for most of this year

as I have slowly been moving

fourteen years of life and work

out of the church and

into this small space.

I love this room.

In 2002, we decided to add on to the home

we had bought four years previously.

And we discovered that one of the city’s finest architects worshiped with us every Sunday morning.

So Don came and talked to us and walked around our house and our yard and about a week later,

he came back with this amazing,

genius design for a new master suite…

and a room we hadn’t asked for,

that I had never even dreamed of asking for –

“I want to do a study for you, Diana.

Just a small space, but we’ll put in a big window

so you can read and study

and write those sermons I love.”

A space for me??

Really?

A space just for me??

When the framing went up, I actually wept

as I walked between the studs.

I had not had a room that was just for me
since I was seventeen years old.

I went directly from my parents’ home

to a co-op of Christian women during my college years,

to a small apartment in Santa Monica when I got married, midway through my senior year at UCLA.

A room of my own.

Wow.

But it has literally been unusable

for about six months now,

and it was time.

Past time, actually, to make a stab

at integrating the detritus from my church office

and forming a space for me to sit

and think and read and pray and write.

And a space to greet directees when they arrived.

So last week, I finished sorting.

And somehow managed to create a welcoming space –

too cluttered, yes! –

but a room which reveals a real slice of my life,

and a place rich with reminders of my journey with God, reminders literally everywhere my eye lands.

Yup, that’s pretty much me.

This framed card has come with me through

two church offices and now makes me smile at home.

This beautiful mahogany desk and chair were made for us by my husband’s cousin, a gifted furniture maker.

I asked for the two ‘bread boards’ on the sides because I never have enough spreading-out space.

And I asked that the center drawer have a drop down front so

I could put my keyboard there when I had a PC.

Now, it holds my laptop.

I am sure that the way-t00-many pictures and other assorted bric-a-brac will be thinned in months to come,

but at this point, I am not yet ready to part with any of it.

The always popular traveling pony-photograph that was ubiquitous in homes during the 50’s. I was four.

The two women’s groups who have played

such a key role in my story – the BBC (the birthday group from my home church that I wrote about last week),

and the YaYas (a group of women pastors who have been soulmates throughout my professional life.)

And an amazing collection of tiny scallop shells my kids and I gathered after a winter storm about 25 years ago.

And the Weeping Savior,

a wood carving brought back from Lithuania by a former boss. And that small basket with the five loaves and two fishes, which I bought at a local gift shop my first week

on the job here in Santa Barbara,

when I was so frightened and overwhelmed

by the life changes we had just made.

A visible and tactile reminder

that we serve a God of miracles

and deeply personal provision.

The wooden spoon I used to hold the salt I would place on our confirmands tongues during their ‘big day’ in our Sunday morning worship each May.

Each piece holds a memory, a story, a reminder of grace.

It is so good to be back in this space again,

so good to see the next phase coming into focus.

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Five Minute Friday: Backwards

June 10, 2011 By Diana

Holy crap, it’s Friday again! How does that happen so fast?? Taking five minutes for unedited, uninterrupted reflection on a theme, graciously and creatively provided each week by Lisa-Jo over at the Gypsy Mama. This week’s theme has me a little stymied – let’s see where 5 minutes will take me:

GO:

When I was a ‘tweener’ (though when I was one, we never called it that!), I used to love to roller skate. I owned a pair of clamp on skates and used to go (very, very carefully) down the big hill on which we lived. I couldn’t screw up the courage [to] make it all the way to the bottom – the speed was just too intense for me – but I did go 6-8 houses at a time before pulling off into the grass to slow down.

But what I really loved to do was to go to the rink in town, put on those shoe skates and make big lazy circles around the wooden floor. I even took some lessons there – and I learned how to skate backwards.

Oh, the joy of that movement. I was not a natural athlete. (Well, that is the understatement of the century!!!) I did not do team sports. I was always – and I do mean always – chosen last for any spontaneous games on the playground. But skating? I could do skating! At least if there were wheels on the bottom of the shoe, and not blades.

I really enjoyed those outings to the rink. Cheesy music and all. It was freeing for me to be able to use my body in a semi-coordinated way, to feel it ‘work.’ That did not happen for me very often – it’s hard to be awkward and gangly and unable to do what others seem to do without effort. Not exactly sure why that was true for me, but it was. So roller-skating was dreamy – as close as I ever came to dancing – and I truly loved it.

And going backwards – that was the best part of all. I did it easily, joyfully, repeatedly. And I haven’t thought about that in YEARS. Literally. So thank you, Lisa-Jo, for this flash-from-the-past. It is sweet to remember those moments of freedom.

STOP

I am so happy to report that my 5-year-old granddaughter has NOT ONE of my physical hang-ups about her body and how well it works. I don’t have any photos of her (or me) roller-skating, but I do have these of the day last March when she rode her bicycle without training wheels for the first time.

I love the shadow she cast as she started off down the driveway,

fears carefully tucked away.

And how earnestly she worked to stay upright as she pedaled around their cul-de-sac.

And how very proud she was of her great accomplishment! Go, Gracie!!

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The Eyes Have It: Remembering Our Story

June 9, 2011 By Diana

Bonnie, over at the Faith Barista, has invited us this week to share the story of how we met our spouse. Well, it’s been quite a long time now, but I’ll give it a shot…

It was a fall evening and I was a brand-new first-year student at UCLA, newly graduated from high school, very wet behind the ears and commuting from my home in Glendale that first semester.

My dad had been a part of a Christian fraternity when he attended the same school and I had been invited to attend an evening gathering for potential Little Sisters of that group. I was nervous, but determined to put my best foot (and smile) forward and try out this social networking thing at my new school. Maybe it would be helpful to know that I was one of the ‘brainy’ kids in high school, taking honors classes and not learning a whole lot about social niceties, and with not much dating experience.

So…I was making small talk with a number of very nice young men and more than a few kind and interesting young women. Then, in the conversational group just to my right, I heard a warm laugh and turned to see where it was coming from. And that’s when I saw them.

Those big, dark brown eyes – focused with kindness on the others in his group, nicely complementing a smiling face. “Who is that?” I wondered, in between skipped heartbeats. And I made it my business to find out before I left that evening: his name was Richard and he was a junior.

Now I am almost embarrassed to admit this to you, but this is what I did. Once I had his name and a little of his story up my sleeve, I did two things: a.) I asked if I could borrow his bicycle – and I made sure to wear my most flattering bermuda shorts when I came over to take it out for a spin, and b.) I promptly looked up his class schedule – and over the course of the next few weeks, I made sure to re-arrange my own walking-from-class-to-class schedule in such a way that I walked by him, in the opposite direction once or twice every single day. Equipped with a warm smile, a warm and breezy, “How are you today?” I made sure I was somewhere in his vicinity several times every week. I also successfully pledged that Little Sister group and our social contacts became more frequent, allowing for deeper conversation.

And I’m just remembering another rather tricky thing I did – I am, from this end of the story, rather amazed at my youthful and naive ability to scheme. I asked one of his fraternity brothers – a guy whose dad knew my dad – to ‘help me’ open my first ever checking account. When Dick got wind that I had asked Don to do this, he very quickly asked if he could help me with any of those pesky details. Well…yes, of course he could! And I spent one lovely afternoon, very early on, learning how to balance a checkbook and how to avoid overdraws. (I found out a couple of years later that there was more than a little bit of competitive undercurrent between those two – would you call that providential?)

Our first actual date was not with each other, but was a double date, each of us with someone else. And so was our second date. Then we went on a weekend retreat with the InterVarsity chapter on campus, one that his uncle was leading. And the rest, as they say, is history.

I was seventeen when we met in October, seventeen on our first double-date-with-different-people, and eighteen when we went on that retreat in February. By April of my first year, we were an item – discovering that our parents had known each other in college, that we shared many long term goals, and that we liked each other – a lot. And probably most important for the long-term success of our relationship and our marriage, we discovered a shared comic sensibility and we laughed together often, loudly and gladly. We married midway through my senior year, when I was twenty years old.

As our relationship unfolded, I quickly discovered that those lovely eyes reflected a quick intelligence, an intelligence very different from my own. He was a business major, really good at ferreting out complicated investment issues. He was also an athlete and I spent many warm spring afternoons watching him play tennis like a pro. I was a good thinker, writer, public speaker and singer. NOT an athlete, without a business gene in my body. But we found that those differences made for an interesting balance in our relationship, one that we enjoy to this day – 48 years after meeting, 45+ years after marrying.

Doesn’t sound terribly deep spiritually, does it? No lengthy prayer session about who my life partner should be; no agonizing discussions with friends/family/pastors; no prayer times together, either. (I do remember that a very popular Christian book at the time warned dating couples AGAINST praying together as it could easily lead to heated passionate exchanges as well…maybe that explains it.)

But here’s something important I’ve learned over this long, interesting life we’ve lived together, with its many chapters, twists and turns: if each of you is seeking God, if both of you are open to possibilities, then you can rest with calm assurance in the truth that God moves with you in the choices you make.

Are we perfect? Are you kidding me?? Just ask our kids – or our grandkids.

We bicker at times, we get fed-up with each other’s weak spots and we sometimes speak in tones that are far from dulcet.

But you know what?
     We are each other’s very best friends;
     we share a history that is totally unique to us;
     we have allowed God’s Spirit to help us evolve in our understanding of what marriage is all about;
     we have remained open to surprise;
     we have sought, with our whole hearts, to love each other even when we don’t like each other very much;
     we have learned to love our kids with a passion that surprises us at times;
     we have managed to love our grandkids and to enjoy them in ways we were not equipped to do when we were their parents’ parents;
     we have always found ways to serve others, both inside and outside the church, and taught/modeled the same for our kids;

     and we have leaned into God every step of the way, thankful in ways words cannot capture for the gift of faith, aware that we would not survive in this world without grace, and amazed by that truth every single day.

Every single one.

And all because of those eyes, those amazing, beautiful eyes.
Thank you, Jesus.

Also linking with Ann for her Walk with Him Wednesday meme:

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Ascension Sunday, 2011

June 7, 2011 By Diana

Joining Michelle again at Graceful, a meme for which I am increasingly grateful as I re-enter church as a worshiper and not a planner/participant – so thanks, Michelle, for this call to listen and worship well.

Also joining dear Jen at Finding Heaven and the sisters of the Soli Deo Gloria sisterhood, because what I learn on Sundays is so often what I want to share with them:

Ascension Sunday. Not a date that Protestants, especially evangelical Protestants, tend to notice much. And that’s our loss, because it is such an important part of our story as people who follow the Jesus way.

Because here’s the good news about the ascension:

our incarnate Savior is reigning NOW,

seated on the right hand of God.

The plan of salvation is working its way through human history – there are no surprises for our Triune God.

The man Jesus is now fully inhabiting heaven as the cosmic Christ – our Champion, our Forerunner, our Deliverer. Ascension Sunday reminds us who is really in charge.

But it is also a reminder that we have been invited to partner with the Sovereign God in the working out of the good news in this world.

Jesus’ words to his disciples, just before he disappeared from their sight, were words of instruction, encouragement and invitation:

“He opened their minds to understand these many Scriptures.

And he said, ‘…with my authority, take this message of repentance to all the nations, beginning in Jerusalem… And now I will send the Holy Spirit,

just as my Father promised. But stay here in the city until the Holy Spirit comes

and fills you with power from heaven.'” (Luke 24:44, 47-48)

And the disciples response? Exactly what ours needs to be:

“They worshiped him and then returned to Jerusalem

filled with great joy.

And they spent all of their time in the Temple,

praising God.” (vs. 52)

It begins with worship – which leads to joy – which leads them to wait for the Spirit to fill and move them.

Worship

to joy

to waiting on God

to moving wherever the Wind blows.

And that’s what we did, together, after the sermon. We shared in communion as our gifted instrumentalists played two lovely and worshipful arrangements. And we stood to sing, “Crown Him with Many Crowns,” in 4 part harmony, with trumpet descant – and the room fairly vibrated with joyful worship.

Now we wait for the Breath of God to move us, individually and collectively, into the nooks and crannies of our world, to bear the very fragrance of grace in Jesus’ name.

Finding that balance between waiting and moving is sometimes tricky, though, isn’t it? So we pray for eyes to see, ears to hear, and hands and feet to move when the time is right. And, oh yeah – a little joy would be good, too.

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Multitudes on Monday – continuing in gratitude

June 7, 2011 By Diana

Joining with Ann Voskamp’s Monday gratitude group

(although I cannot for the life of me copy her button –

it just doesn’t paste when I hit the key!)

Last week’s photo list proved to be a really positive way for me to list my thanks – it colored how I looked at each day,

lending an extra set of eyes in a way.

(And caused me to make sure a camera was nearby.)

God is good, life is good (even when it’s hard),

and I am grateful.

So, it continues…

11. My baby with his baby on birthday #39 –

such a good man and good daddy;

12. Grandgirl number one’s first tooth gap – so proud!

13. ah, a trial run for the wedding day –

so happy for our girl to have found happiness after loss;

14. Our birthday gift veggie garden flourishing –

and providing fabulous beans/zucchini/crookneck

for dinner each night this week;

15. This face – what more can I say?

16. These two – enjoying each other on Friday;

17. These eyes, windows to heaven;

18. Getting this guy up and running for the summer –

love the sound of water splashing as we fall asleep;

19. Silent Saturday – 1st Saturday of the month –

3 hours of silence and prayer;

20. The scent of jasmine as we took our silent,

slow-stepping walks between centering prayer sessions;

21. practicing discipline, even with each step;

22. Discovering a splashing stream on my way back to my car;

23. Continuing the silence in my 2nd office – at the beach,

on a rainy June Saturday;

24. Still too much stuff – BUT – the 2-offices-into-1 are finally organized – thank you, Jesus!

25. And it will be a perfect space to meet with directees

and the Holy Spirit;

26. A desk surrounded by pieces of my story –

a story for which I am so grateful!

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Five Minute Friday: Every Day…

June 3, 2011 By Diana

It’s that time again: Friday morning and Lisa-Jo’s prompt. 5 minutes, start and stop – no editing, no worries.

GO:

Every day, I wake up glad and grateful to be alive.

Every day, I wonder …. how can I capture the pieces of my life and make sense of them for others to read.

Every day, I am grateful for my husband and his quirks and gifts.

Every day, I am grateful for my kids and their kids – for how they teach me about grace, for how they do their lives so much better than I did at their age.

Every day, I search for God in the echoes of the life I am living now.

A life without a set schedule (or at least a seriously less structured schedule);

a life without deadlines (most of the time);

a life without a congregation to care for and plan events for and occasionally preach and teach for.

But every day, I am more fully aware that the life I live now is not without meaning, purpose or value.

Every day, I come one step closer to relaxing into the life that is mine right now, this life that is looser, freer, less well-planned and organized.

Every day, I think I’m getting closer to getting it – to living it, inhabiting it more fully, experiencing what later life can be.

But every day, I know that I am one day closer to being truly old (I refuse that label just yet, even though I say it a lot).

Every day, I am closer to the end of this life and I want to end it well.

By God’s grace, I’ll make it to the tape and leap across with relief and gratitude.

STOP.

These leaves may be gray – but the flowers are still brilliant and cheery.

Here’s to letting the colors shine.

Formatting added later, and the photo, too.

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The Power of Encouragement

June 2, 2011 By Diana

Joining with Bonnie at Faith Barista for her Thursday invitation, and with Ann at A Holy Experience for her Walk with Him Wednesdays.

Seven members of The Birthday Breakfast Club, January 2011

“With this news, strengthen those who have tired hands, and encourage those who have weak knees. Say to those who are afraid, ‘Be strong and do not fear, for your God is coming to destroy your enemies.

He is coming to save you.’ Isaiah 35:3-4

“Here,” she said gently, handing me a slip of paper with her scrawling handwriting on it. “This is the phone number and the date for the next Information Day. This much I can do for you; the rest, you’ll have to do yourself.”

Gulp.

Five years of questioning, wondering, worrying, and fear.

Five years of wise counsel from trusted friends and pastors.

Five years of deep, even tearful conversations with my husband and my nearly adult children, always asking these questions:

Could I possibly do this?

Could I enroll in graduate school?

In seminary, for heaven’s sake?

Was this something God was calling me to do?

Was I heading in the right direction?

Could my life, as I knew it, change so radically and still be my life?

I didn’t have the answers as neatly in place as I might have liked. I couldn’t quell the butterflies that flittered and fluttered every time I thought about the idea. I couldn’t imagine how this would work.

But God put encouragers into my life, strong encouragers and through them, spoke truth to me:

Yes. You can do this – because I walk with you.

Yes. You can do this – because I call you to it.

Yes. You can do this – have a little faith.

That last push – that slip of paper put into my outstretched hand – came from my friend Judy. And Judy was chief among a group of friends who encouraged me to open my heart, my mind and my spirit to the possibility that God might be doing a new thing in me.

This group had a distinctly non-spiritual title. We called ourselves the Birthday Breakfast Club and we came together not to study the Bible, not to spend hours in prayer, not to do any of what most small group curricula tell you a small group should be doing.

We knew each other from church – some of us knew each other better than others. And we decided we would meet regularly throughout the year on or around each person’s birthday. And we would meet for breakfast. The birthday girl would have the spotlight – telling her story in any way she chose. The rest of us would focus on that one story-telling woman, asking questions, offering suggestions, celebrating the high points, commiserating over low points.

Gradually, over time, this group became one of the most profoundly spiritual groups of which I have ever been a part. We probed deeply into each other’s faith journeys and marveled at God’s grace and patience. We laughed loudly and often. We cried easily and honestly. And eventually, we did pray – but it came out of our growing connection to one another, especially as we began to include an annual overnight together, a kind of mini-retreat held somewhere beautiful.

Two of the women in this group happened to be college and seminary professors, Judy being one of those, and their presence helped me to see the wonderful and powerful truth that God calls all kinds of people, including women, to step up and step out into leadership in the academy and the church.

And over the course of the first three years of our BBC group gathering together every few weeks, these encouraging friends helped me to hear the voice of God. The questions asked, the comments made, the observations of my own gifts and personality offered – all of it helped to crystallize for me a call from God to take a gigantic leap of faith. DEEP breath…

I went to that Information Day. I felt strongly nudged to enroll in the M. Div program, the degree that often leads to pastoral ministry of some kind. And when I had completed the application forms, gathered my referral letters, and written the check to begin the process – four of my friends from the BBC walked with me into the Admissions Office at Fuller Seminary and together, we shoved that envelope through the slot. At the age of 44, I began a brand new life.

I answered God’s call to me to go to seminary, a call I initially heard as a way to become a more effective, informed Bible teacher. About midway through my experience there, a deeper truth began to emerge – a call to pastoral ministry, surprising me greatly. And once again, these friends were voices of encouragement – asking the hard questions, affirming my gifts, pointing out possible pitfalls, supporting me in the process of discernment.

Because a true encourager is more than a fan, more than a cheerleader – although those elements are a part of the picture. An encourager is one who knows you well, who sees you as a whole person, who calls out the best in you, who gently admonishes the not-best in you and who stands with you, whether the way ahead is smooth or rough.

Four years of seminary, three years of working in my home church while I completed requirements for ordination, and then came a call to serve a church 125 miles away.

And these friends and I have met halfway somewhere near my birthday for almost every one of these last 14 years. And each time we meet, I am once again deeply and oh-so-personally encouraged. What a gift. What a life-changing gift. I am forever grateful for their sweet voices and for that scrawling handwritten note that marked the beginning of my journey toward today.