hope — Page 3

Own and Share Who You Are — SheLoves Magazine

October 3, 2015 By Diana

I got bumped up early this month over at SheLoves, for their October theme of ‘power.’ What a great topic to reflect on. You can begin my essay here and then follow the link over to the best women’s magazine on the web, okay? Always good conversation in that place!

It’s taken me a lifetime to inhabit this skin of mine. In truth, I believe that habitation to be one of our primary tasks in this life — to realize who it is we’re created to be, to own it, to live it, to share it. It takes time, it takes intention, it takes attention, and it takes oodles and oodles of trust to get anywhere close to realizing any one of that little list of verbs, much less all four: realize, own, live, share.

Despite the great strides that have been (and are being) made on behalf of equality for women in the western world, this particular piece — this piece called ownership — is still so difficult for many of us. And sadly, more than difficult, it is impossible for far too many of our gender, born into repressive cultures at various places around the globe.* There is work still to be done, isn’t there? Even here, even now.

I believe that those of us who follow the rabbi from Nazareth are invited to lead the way. Everything about the ministry of Jesus spoke to the beautiful truth of the good news Jesus brought, the good news Jesus lived out while walking our earth, the good news the Holy Spirit continues to whisper in our ears. And here it is: we are loved by, wanted by, seen by and have the choice to be filled by . . . an Almighty God. A God who calls us friends, even children.

Which makes us — children of the King.

Just let that wash over you for a minute or two.

This kingdom God invites us to enter is not like any kingdom we’ve studied about in history books. It is marked by humility, service, even suffering. But it is also a place where healing happens, where goodness rises, where power is available from one moment to the next, no matter how difficult any particular one of those moments may prove to be. It is a place of hope, and justice, of valuing one another and also? Of learning to love ourselves as we discover who we are in the light of God’s redemptive, empowering love.

So . . . who are you? What are the gifts that God asks you to pour into this world? Where is your primary ‘playing field,’ the place where the power of God can be released through you?

Please join us at SheLoves and help us reflect on what it looks like to fully realize who we are, and God loves and empowers us.

Filed Under: biblical reflection, Blessings, Encouragement, Enough, Fighting Scarcity, God's gifts, Grace, hope, personal journey, SheLoves

The 31-Day Write: 31 Days of Aging Gracefully

October 1, 2015 By Diana

2015 marks year 4 of the 31 Day Writing challenge for me. First was 31 Days in Which I Am Being Saved by Beauty (2012), then there were 31 Days of Giving Permission (2013), and last year, it was 31 Days of Looking for the Little.

This is a year of facing into reality for me. I turned 70 in January, I landed in the hospital in February and again, at the end of April. I traveled to Kauai in July with our entire clan to celebrate FIFTY years of marriage, and in August, my husband and I moved, downsizing after 18 years in a much-loved larger home with a huge yard.

Yeah, it was time. It IS time.

I am old and getting older by the minute, and if I’m going to have even a tiny chance of doing this aging thing well, I want to be intentional about it. So that is what I’ve chosen to write about for the next 31 days.

I’m nervous about this, to tell you the truth. I happen to find myself at a somewhat painful juncture, realizing I am beginning to be invisible in some ways. Do you know that about getting old in this culture? Elders are not always seen, even in their own family setting. I’m not sure this is intentional, but it surely is reality. Maybe it’s because we’ve been around so long, we’ve become part of the furniture, always available. Maybe it’s because we serve as somewhat painful pointers to the future for those who are younger. Maybe it’s because as we age, we tend to slow down a bit, to measure our words more, to give up the drivenness and hungry ambition that are so much a part of mid-life in 21st century western culture. Whatever the reasons, I am choosing to step out of the invisibility cloak this month and put some words out into cyberspace about how I’d like to live these last years of my life.

I am hoping that these reflections will be both highly individual — reflections on my own aging process and what I’m learning — and at that same time, universal in their application. After all, none of us gets a ‘pass’ from this stuff, do we? If we’re fortunate to avoid accident or early terminal illness, we all must face into the reality of bodies that grow old and weary, of choices becoming more limited. And hopefully, of enjoying the benefits of wisdom gained, gratitude grown, joy multiplied, insights deepened.

I’ve got a list, and will do my best to work ahead a little. I’m hoping to have a post up every day, but if I miss a few here and there, extend a little bit of grace, okay? After all, I’m OLD. (said with a smile)

In the meantime, please grab my button and follow along!

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Filed Under: Aging, Beauty, Blessings, Blogging, community, Confession, Encouragement, Fighting Scarcity, God's gifts, Grace, Gratitude, Hard Things, hope, personal journey Tagged With: 31 Day Write, Aging Gracefully

The Surprising Nature of Grief

September 2, 2015 By Diana

He was in his late 50’s, I’m guessing. Salt and pepper hair and mustache, thick black shoes, Bermuda shorts and the usual bright red apron. I was at Home Depot, purchasing something or other for the work we’re doing on our new home, and I noticed him, cheerfully helping customers through the checkout process.

He was kind, with a peaceful, even happy expression on his face. I could see him from where I stood waiting in line, and I remember thinking, “That guy is one of the good ones. Yeah, the shoes with the shorts are a tad nerdy, but what a sweet man!”

I dug into my cart, laid my wares on the conveyor belt and he quickly moved to the end of the island, getting ready to put my purchases into a bag for me. I handed over my credit card, signed my name and turned to thank him as I got ready to exit the store. And that’s when I saw his name tag:

“KENNETH”

Big black letters, larger than life. And as I saw them, I was startled to hear a great gasping sob erupt from my mouth. The next minute, tears were streaming down beneath my sunglasses as I made my way back to the car.

I had been blindsided by grief, deep and wide.

Kenneth was my youngest brother’s name. The one who died in 2009. A man I’d never met called me early in the morning of October 2nd; he was the manager of Ken’s sober living residence. He’d found my number in my brother’s cell phone and told me tearfully that Ken passed away in his sleep. He was 53 years old.

Oh my, such a sweet man. Troubled, broken, sick and tired, but such a sweet man. I’ve written about him elsewhere, detailing his life of struggle and pain. But that day — that instant in the Home Depot — my thoughts were these:

This could have been my brother.

He would have been so good at a job like this.

Oh, how I miss him! Oh, how sorry I am for all the turmoil he endured! Oh, how I wish I could change it somehow.

But I cannot. I cannot go back in time, much as I might wish to do so. I cannot change one second of his life.

This much, though . . . this much, I can do:

I can acknowledge my own sadness about him.

I can make space for the grief to surprise me, again and again.

I can thank God for Ken every day.

I can pray for his sons and daughter-in-law.

I can remember the best pieces of his story.

I can pay attention to those I meet who remind me of him in some way — size, demeanor, struggle.

I can not be ashamed of the sobs, the tears, the sadness or him. Instead, I can remember him with love and gratitude, accepting him for who he was, warts and all, and rejoice that his suffering is over.

Grief comes in waves, they say. Who knew the tide would still roll after this many years? Sometimes I think I’m ‘used’ to all the death and dying we’ve experienced in our family circle. But I’m not, and — thank God — I never will be. Though it often comes disguised as blessing, especially after a long, difficult illness, death is always our last enemy, a reminder that our time in this sphere is limited and finite. Ah, Lord, I thank you that Ken’s dying was gentle, though his living was harsh.

I miss you, sweet brother of mine. I truly do.

Filed Under: Confession, death, Encouragement, family, grief, Hard Things, hope, Lament, personal journey, Suffering

It Flies By, I Tell You — It FLIES By!

August 27, 2015 By Diana

We don’t have any little ones around these days. Our youngest granddaughter, whose name is Lillian (Lilly), started kindergarten yesterday, and I can hardly wrap my mind around that reality. She is so tall, so smart, so much fun!

Wasn’t it just yesterday that she was this size?

She was just waking from her nap when I snapped this picture, during one of the earliest weeks she was with us after her mama returned to her medical practice. Twice a week for the next two and a half years she came to us — such joy! Having these last two grandchildren — and our only two girls out of eight — near enough to help with childcare has been one of life’s richest gifts during the last nine years.

But this week marks a whole series of turning points in our family circle. Dick & I are in a new-to-us, smaller home (if you want to follow along with our move and settling in process, sign up for my twice-monthly newsletter . . . and get a free eBook, while you’re at it! I send lots of pictures with each letter :-), our eldest grandson is earning his own way as a cinematographer, our second oldest begins his senior year at Pomona College, our 4th starts his senior year of high school, our 5th finishes middle school this year, our 3rd begins to scout colleges for next year’s application process, and our two gifts-in-the-midst-of-great-pain turn TEN this fall. And, of course, that littlest one . . . well, I’ve already told you, she is no longer so little.

And the truth is — I celebrate all this forward movement! This is the way it’s designed to be, this life of ours. We move through ages and stages, schools and jobs, relationships and self-awareness. All of these changes are good changes. But. They are changes. Visible and visceral reminders that we’re getting older, that we will not live forever, that we may very well not be around to see the youngest ones move through the transitions that the older ones are already enjoying.

Our son texted us tonight with a picture of the brand-new, gaping hole in Lilly’s mouth. She lost her first tooth on day two of school. Yet another reminder that time stops for none of us. Try as we might, we have absolutely no control of its passing. None. No matter what the cosmetics industry might try to sell us, aging is inevitable and irreversible. Period.

Yeah, this is a 70-year-old face, enjoying the company of my three female maternal cousins earlier this month. No one raises an eyebrow when I ask for the senior discount, far too many people offer to hold doors, help with grocery carts, and carry heavy objects.

But here’s the thing: I am still here. And I’m glad to be. There were a couple of moments during the year just past when I wasn’t entirely convinced that I would be around for long. Much as I hope for heaven, I am in absolutely no rush to leave earth behind. I love my life, even the rough parts of it. And as long as there are people to love and good work to do, I want to be here, loving and doing.

Yes, time flies. Those of you younger than 30 will not believe that last sentence. I didn’t either, especially when I had three babies under three and hadn’t slept in days. But hear me when I say it again: it goes by so fast. So live your life. Be present in each moment, see if you can resist the urge to hurry it along, find something to smile about at least once each hour and say thank you without ceasing.

Because if you reach my age, you’ll know this much: ALL OF IT is gift. Pure and simple, life is a gift. If you are blessed to live in a place that is free from war and extreme poverty, even if that place (like this place) is far from perfect, then you are among all people on this planet, truly gifted. Your gender or your age or your skin color or your sexual orientation may make your life more challenging at points. And yes, we all need to become more and more aware of how we each contribute to the ever-present sins of sexism, ageism, racism and homophobia, and we need to speak up for justice, goodness, truth and righteousness wherever and whenever we can.

I do not mean to downplay anyone’s pain and suffering. God knows, I’ve endured some myself and will continue to do so. So please hear me when I say this and know that I am fully cognizant of the struggle that often defines our days. Even so, your life is a gift. To you, to those who love you, to the world where you live, work, play, study, worship, contribute.

So make the time, set aside the time, carve out the time if you have to — but stop once in a while and just breathe. In and out. And say, ‘thank you, thank you, thank you,’ as you do so. Somehow, that simple act can make all the difference.

Time will still fly by, make no mistake about that. But you’ll see it just a little more clearly as it marches on by you. And you just might find yourself blinking back tears as the beauty of it all spins its iridescent web around your heart.

Filed Under: Aging, Blessings, Encouragement, Enough, family, God's gifts, Grandparenting, Gratitude, Hard Things, hope, Marriage, personal journey

“What Is Your Hand Made For?” — SheLoves

August 15, 2015 By Diana

As I faced into the writing deadline for this month, I found myself on vacation, resting with our family on the island of Kauai, in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, far away from the demands of our busy life at home. It was good to be there, to be quiet and laid back — because ‘laid back’ is a particularly good state of mind for wrestling with the idea of grit.

The first thing that came to me upon reading this month’s theme was the word, ‘stubbornness!” I remembered that when I was raising our two daughters, I told myself often that any evidence of stubbornness in their nature would serve them well in later life; it was my job to help them learn to control and channel it. Women often need to have more than a little stubbornness to make it in life, to pursue their calling, to become the fullest selves they can be. I believed this to be more true for them than for my son, and I still do. Women need a little something extra, even in this age of egalitarianism. The years since my kids were little have taught me to redefine what that ‘something’ is, however. And our vacation in Hawaii helped me to put words to that definition, and gave me a good question to ask myself, and all those whom I love and counsel.

I learned it at a small slack-key concert, of all places. Twice a week, the little town near our vacation condo offered that lovely music, along with stories and reflections, at the local community center. My husband and I forked over the fifteen bucks each and thoroughly enjoyed our two hours of listening and learning.

Somewhere in the story-telling time, the question that titles this post was offered to the audience. It’s an old idea in Hawaiian culture, and it’s a rich and thoughtful one. Young adults are asked to consider this question as they make decisions about their life work, and I think it’s a question worth asking for all of us.

“What is your hand made for?”

When we know the answer to that question, everything else somehow comes into clearer focus, don’t you think? What are YOU meant to do with your ‘one wild and precious life?’ How has God formed you? Where should you invest your energies? Who are you designed to be?

Wrestling out the answer to that question is one of the primary tasks of life; it is so worth pondering and exploring. Once we have found the answer to that life-query, then we need to find whatever grit is necessary to move toward it.

Because grit alone will not do the job. There must also be a deeply-seated desire – a desire that is directed, intentional, and God-given — in order for grit to do it’s good work. Without a clear sense of where we’re headed, all the grit in the world will not get us where we want to be. . .

Like to know what else I think you need? Read the rest of this piece over at SheLoves today. Always a good conversation happening over there!

Filed Under: biblical reflection, Dreams/Dreaming, Encouragement, God's gifts, hope, SheLoves

Tapestry — SheLoves

May 16, 2015 By Diana

The themes over at SheLoves this year have been rich and provocative. This month: fabric. You can begin this meandering piece here and then follow the link over to one of my favorite magazines in order to read the rest:

This life we live is a woven thing.

Textures, colors, strengths, weaknesses, flaws, beauty, warmth, breathability — a wondrous, complex, sturdy fabric of relationships, experiences, emotions, encounters, learning and un-learning.

Weaving in and out of each of our stories are some glorious threads that glisten and shine; and then there are those others, the darker ones that cannot reflect light at all. Sometimes, the tension between the two can feel chaotic, without design or beauty. We can feel buried under the weight of it all as the loom of life pulls and pushes us in ways we might not choose to go.

When those days come, I try to remind myself that the fabric that is me is only one small piece of the much larger work God is creating across time and all around this universe. And that larger piece is a design of such magnificence that not one of us can even imagine its depth and beauty. Those ‘thin places’ we talked about last month sometimes give us a peek, a hint, of what God is up to in the ongoing creation of life. And that old cliché — the one about seeing only the backside of the tapestry God is weaving? Yup, I think it’s true.

There are those days when we catch a glimpse of the front, though. Moments when the glory-light shines in and our lungs feel like they’re breathing heavenly air. In the fabric of my own life, there have consistently been some glittering threads, ones that make me gasp with gratitude and sigh with recognition and relief.

Please come over and join the conversation at SheLoves! Just click on this line.

Filed Under: Aging, Beauty, Blessings, community, Confession, death, Doubt, Encouragement, God's gifts, Grace, grief, Hard Things, hope, Mystery, personal journey, SheLoves

Taking the Backroad

April 21, 2015 By Diana

Some days, nothing seems to work out quite as planned. Ever had one of those?

I had one yesterday. It seemed like everything was going all wrong, and yet . . . here’s what I learned in the midst of a whole lot of frustration and anxiety: when the pressure mounts, I need a backroad.

A few details:

I had a birthday party to go to, one that required driving my Honda CRV about 130 miles. Not just any party, mind you, but a gathering of about 100 friends, old and new, celebrating a woman for whom I once worked and who has remained a delightful, long-distance, seldom-seen, but always-loved friend.

During the years since last we met, a lot has happened in both our lives. She enjoyed a successful 30 year career in fund-raising, I had a small floral business, attended and graduated from seminary and served as a pastor for a dozen and a half years. Now, we are both retired and keep in touch primarily through Facebook, of all things.

But this lovely invitation arrived from her children: please come and mark a milestone at a garden party on a Sunday afternoon in April. My husband could not go (for reasons you’ll understand shortly) and happily sent me off alone, knowing that I would pick up our middle daughter and take her along with me before spending the night with her family.

Of course, this was the first time ever that we had our grand-girls for the entire weekend! It was pure delight — but their pick-up time came a few hours after I was due south, so it was a solo trip this time around.

We loved having our only two girls with us! On Saturday morning, we went to our local zoo — a beautiful location not far from us, where we enjoyed watching two recently born giraffes, saw a gorilla stuffing her face and wondered about a couple of very anxious small foxes, pacing back and forth behind their glass gate. After a quick lunch, we just made it to the matinee of “Cinderella,” and surprised ourselves by actually loving the movie.

I will add here that each of our two nights with them brought 2:30 a.m. visits from the 5-year-old, who then slept with us in the middle of our king-sized bed, punctuating the next five hours with an occasional swift kick or sweet cuddle.

All of it was great fun.

The undercurrent for the weekend, however, was this party, something I was curiously nervous about. It had been a very long time since I’d seen any of these people, it was very likely that the only people I would know would be her family and my own daughter, it was a long drive, there were too many details to pull together on top of caring for our girls for 48 hours, yada, yada, yada . .

I made pb & j sandwiches all around after we got back from church yesterday, loaded the car and backed out of the garage feeling tense and uncertain, pulling onto the freeway about 15 minutes later than I had hoped.

And then . . .
I hit a massive traffic jam about 25 miles out the door.

My anxiety level skyrocketed and I texted my daughter to have her husband check the traffic advisories for me (don’t worry, I did it hands-free, via bluetooth). Then, up ahead, I saw the exit for a backroad to the second freeway I needed to travel, a road we used to take many years ago, and I quickly took a sharp right and headed off to Highway 118.

Of course, as I did so, I could look down from the ramp and see that the traffic was beginning to break up on the main highway and my SIL’s text arrived telling me it would all dissipate and I’d have a clear shot.

But the die was cast and I just kept truckin’, as they say.

And I’m so glad I did.

After about six long blocks of signals and small town traffic, I found myself on a long and winding two-lane road, cutting through orange groves, nurseries, low mountains and all-around lovely scenery.

It was a beautiful afternoon, and as I gazed out the windows, I could feel my shoulders unkink, my arms relax and my back settle more kindly into the seat.

I breathed a sigh and said, “Thank you, Jesus.”

I enjoyed every minute of that 18 mile detour, reveling in the beauty all around me, the somewhat slower-than-freeway speed of the traffic and the promise of what lay ahead.

Just changing speed and direction helped me to shrug off the worry and embrace the anticipation, to offer a prayer of thanks for my friend and the kind invitation of her family, and rejoice that my girl was willing to go with me.

I stopped and changed my clothes at our daughter’s home, she came out to greet me looking adorable and then so kindly assured me that she knew exactly how to get there. And we were off!

We handed over our car to the valet (now be honest here, friends: how many times do you go to a private party where there is valet parking?) And as we filled out our name-tags, I watched my beautiful daughter connect with my friend’s adult children. They made us feel so welcome! Any remaining worry or uncertainty just melted away, I finished the relaxation process begun on that backroad, and we both enjoyed the entire event.

It was a sunny, gently breezy afternoon and evening, beautiful hearty appetizers were served, everyone was friendly and kind. And the house was beautiful — complete with large koi pond, an outdoor kitchen, pool and hot tub and a divine patio area where we chose to sit down and eat a light supper comprised of truly well-prepared food.

Both of us were glad we came.

Sometimes, what we really need is a backroad, you know?

Sometimes, we need to pull out of the traffic, change the view, allow our bodies to unwind and our minds to re-charge. Sometimes we need to take that detour, disconnect from the usual, maybe even give in to the inevitable.

I know that what I most needed on that long drive was to re-learn this truth: hard-charging, over-anxiety is never a good thing. Never.

There’s a reason the most frequent words out of the mouth of God in scripture are: “Be not afraid.” All along life’s way, I simply have to remember to trust: to trust the goodness of God, the faithfulness of friends, the beauty that is so often most present in the details.

I had not seen Lyla or her kids in nearly 25 years, yet they greeted us as dear friends. We began to catch up and even to make connections for the future. I also saw a few other old friends, enjoying brief conversations with each one.

Big social events are not my ‘thing.’ But you know what? This one was.

And all it took for me to discover that . . . was a slight detour on a beautiful backroad.

Linking this with Laura Boggess’s “Playdates with God,” Lisha Epperson’s “The Sunday Community,” and Kelly’s “Small Wonders” series.

Filed Under: Beauty, Blessings, community, Confession, Delight!, Encouragement, Enough, God's gifts, Grandparenting, hope, personal journey

God Is in the Business of REDEMPTION! Can I Get an Amen?

March 14, 2015 By Diana

I WANT YOU TO HEAR ME WHEN I SAY THIS, OKAY?

I want you to hear me in my preacher-voice, my emotional voice, my truest voice. I want you to hear me cry out with conviction, to see me raise my hands in benediction and thanksgiving, to believe me when I tell you this powerful, life-changing, life-saving truth:

OUR GOD IS IN THE BUSINESS OF REDEMPTION!

Can I hear an ‘amen?’ Maybe a ‘hallelujah,’ even if it is the middle of Lent? Oh, yes. I’m standin’ in the need of a great big hallelujah over here tonight.

I have felt God moving me toward this declaration for a few days now. I think maybe it started with these flowers, these dying flowers. They were headed for the trash can, after many days of gracing our table with their beauty and color, twisting their pretty heads toward the light, bending and dipping in the breezes created by people walking by. The sunlight on their last day happened to catch them in all their radiant, lingering, grace-filled glory. And I was reminded that even death is a beautiful thing in God’s world. A hard thing, yes, yes. But beautiful in its own way, bringing with it a reminder of our mortality, our inevitable end, the cessation of life as we know it now, in this place.

Oh, yes. Even dying things carry the beauty of creation and the mark of redemption-in-process. Even dying things.

And I am a dying thing, too. I don’t mean to depress you (or me) with that pronouncement), only to underline the truth of the matter. We are all dying. We forget it too easily, I think. From the moment of our very first breath, we are headed in only one direction. For some of us it will come painfully early. For others of us, it will feel too late. But it will come — it is part of us, every day.

We have lost this truth to our peril, I believe. We need it near us, we need to hold it inside, like a precious gift, a coming reality. These bodies that carry us around are dying, they are fragile, they are not meant for eternity as they are now.

BUT — these bodies also carry within them the seeds, the heart, the soul of that forever place, our home-to-come. Case in point: healing and recuperation. It’s a miracle, I tell you. An incredible, day-by-day, minute-by-minute miracle, no matter how limited, no matter how slow, no matter how frustrating. When healing happens, it is a dang miracle, every single time.

I posted this picture on Facebook in the afternoon of February 21st of this year. I was in the emergency room after a terrible fall, face-first, onto asphalt while walking strongly across our local cemetery. I spent a night in the hospital and I was frightened. Hence, the picture-posting and the heartfelt request for prayers — which were quickly forthcoming, bringing hope and peace and rest — thank you all so very much.

This picture was taken two days after I got home, with the bruising in full bloom. It hurt, it looked frightful and I felt every bit of this. At the time, I was very nearly convinced I would carry these colors around with me for the rest of my life. But day-by-day, minute-by-minute, things began to improve. Color is fading, swelling is gone, stitches are out, scars are smaller.

The remnant remains, and will be around for a few more days, I’m sure. I’m thinking that perhaps the color will last as long as the post-trauma watchfulness period of one month required for every person on blood-thinning medication who experiences trauma to the head. Only one week left for that.

But here’s the point I want to make: I carry within me the seeds of eternal life, you see? And so do you. The body’s ability to heal itself is amazing. There is no other word that will cover it.

Both the flowers and the face are leading to the real story I want to tell you tonight. The most powerful picture of redemption, of healing, of God’s Spirit made real — the most powerful picture that I have seen in a long, long time was on display in our sanctuary tonight. It’s a grand tale, filled with woe and brokenness. But at the end? Victory! Challenges met, lives turned around, healing from the inside out. These bruises may not have been as visible as the ones on my face, but they were every bit as real, every bit as painful, every bit in need of deep, deep healing.

This night, our church was fortunate enough to host the graduation service for four women and eleven men who have successfully completed the one-year residential program at the Santa Barbara Rescue Mission. My dear friends, if you want a visceral, heartfelt reminder of the ongoing work of God in this world of ours, I strongly encourage you to find such a service wherever it is you live. The work of rescue missions in this world is one of the surest ways to experience the power of grace and the goodness of God that I know anything about.

These photos were taken during the closing moments of a 90-minute celebration of worship that gave testimony to God’s redemptive power at work. Our small sanctuary was filled to the rafters with excited, supportive, grateful people. People who don’t look a bit like the usual crew that fills these pews. Muscular men, covered in tattoos, gloriously redeemed women with high, high heels and even higher hair. Skin tones across the rainbow, very mixed educational levels, not one thing homogenous about this congregation.

AND IT WAS CHURCH. Church like we rarely experience it. Loud hollering, clapping, stomping, singing. I mean LOUD. I got up to offer a word of welcome and an opening prayer after the graduates had walked in to the tape-recorded music of “Pomp and Circumstance,” each one greeted like a rock star by friends, family, alums of the program, staff and co-residents. I asked the entire center section to please consider coming to our worship service in the morning because — I’ve gotta tell you! — we’ve never heard anything like that before.

Now if you’ve read this blog before, you know that I love our church. I love our worship times, I enjoy the preaching, I’m grateful for the community. None of that is changed by my experience tonight. I love who we are and who it is we are in the process of becoming.

But tonight, I got a glimpse of something we don’t see very often. I got a peek behind the curtain, a look a the work of the Wizard, the kind of work that isn’t nearly so dramatic in our usual community. That usual work is real and deep and I’m grateful for us. And yes, I see God’s redemptive power in all kinds of ways and places in the midst of our life together.

Also? I’m grateful, right down to my toes, that I don’t have a story like the ones I heard tonight. Yes, I’ve lost loved ones and friends to addiction. But the stories I heard tonight are not part of my day-to-day life. And yet. . .

I need the stories that I heard tonight. I need to be reminded that God is about so much more than what happens in my world, my very small and intimate world. I will write again about God in the details, God in the everyday, God in the goodness and beauty of creation, God in the midst of my own personal story. This is the truth of my story — I love it, I live it, I share it, I’m grateful for it.

But these stories? Oh, my. Out-of-the-pit kind of rescue stories, finding salvation in the midst of death, jail, addiction, estrangement, abuse stories. Oh, my friends. GOD IS IN THE BUSINESS OF REDEMPTION. May we shout it from the rooftops once-in-a-while!

Hallelujah, thank you, Jesus. PRAISE YOUR NAME.

And may we all stand shoulder to shoulder with the people who carry these stories around inside them, offering our hands/arms/hearts in blessing, solidarity, encouragement, thanksgiving. Because these are our stories, too, aren’t they? All of us who claim the name of Jesus are related to the people in these photos, all of us are sinners, standing in the need of grace. All of us are broken up, broken down, torn-up, messed-up, needy people WHO ARE REDEEMED. Every single one of us. Praises be!

Added one day late — photos of the altar piece, which was planned to go along with the scripture passage for Sunday. And which — and this is SO like God! — fit perfectly with the celebration we enjoyed on Saturday night:

Because each member of our current pastoral staff was committed to other activities on this Saturday evening, I was invited to stand in for them in welcoming the Rescue Mission crew to our facilities and to open the service with prayer. Don kindly sent me an description of the altar piece in advance and I was able to help the 400+ people in attendance understand why they were looking at a collection of ‘dead’ branches and broken pottery. Our Sunday morning text was superbly preached on by Associate Jon Lemmond today — the story of the birth of the first board of deacons in the early church. Out of brokenness (the immigrant widows were being ignored), came beautiful service (members of that immigrant community were ordained and commissioned to be the careful servants of those in need). Out of brokenness, comes new life!

And these are the words God gave me yesterday afternoon as I prepared for the opening prayer. As always, God provides what needs to be said, graciously picking up threads that even I don’t know are there:

Our great and good God, maker of heaven and earth,
the one who calls us from darkness to light and brings us from death to new life, we greet you tonight with full hearts and open arms.

Thank you for showing up in the lives of these graduates, for walking with them, and with all of us, through the tough stuff of this life and for redeeming every single struggle that we’ve somehow, by your grace, managed to survive. We know that the grace that brought us to this evening’s festivities continues to prepare us for the promise of new life to come.

Thank you, Lord God, for each graduate,
for each family member,
friend, loved one,
staff member, cheerleader,
trusted sidekick;
for those who’ve shown tough love when it was needed and have shown your love, no matter what.

Thank you for the gift of hopes realized,
of dreams come true,
of a future where once there was none.

Thank you for calling us to celebrate,
for always inviting us to the table of your grace,
for clothing us in the righteousness of your Son, Jesus,
and for filling us with the fresh Wind of the Holy Spirit.

We give tonight’s service to you as a gift of love and worship, and as we do, we want to remember
who we are:

We are, every single one of us, your children,
deeply loved,
highly valued,
and richly gifted.

We are the beloved.

Help us never to forget that, to cling to that strong statement
like the lifesaving, world-changing truth that it is.

And help us, through the words, music, prayers, tears, laughter and love shared tonight to see you in the faces of one another. Because you promise us that is exactly where you can be found.

All praise to the Triune God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, whom we know and love because of Jesus, Amen.

Filed Under: Beauty, Blessings, Blogging, Church, Confession, death, Dreams/Dreaming, Encouragement, Enough, Fighting Scarcity, God's gifts, Grace, Home, hope

Becoming the Right Size — SheLoves

February 21, 2015 By Diana

This is quite possibly the most vulnerable and personal post I have ever written. It was time to tackle this very large piece of who I am (pun intended). You can begin the post here and then please follow the link to finish it over at SheLoves today:

Sometime in the early 1980s

I have jokingly said that I’ve never been small in my life. Trouble is, I am only half-joking. I am a large person — always have been, always will be. I have baby pictures with my closest cousin during our first year — and believe me when I tell you this — I am gargantuan compared to this lovely, tiny peanut of a babe who grew up to be one of my favorite people in the universe. That picture was frequently taken out at family gatherings, everyone always marveling at the giant child in their midst.

Until the boys began to have hormones moving through their systems at about age 14 or so, I was also the tallest in my class. Always. I was awkward, uncoordinated, had difficult skin issues and stick straight hair that my mother was incessantly trying to curl with permanent wave solution. And no, it did not work.

I was also loud, sometimes quite bossy and usually anxious about something. Not the best combo in the world for developing a sturdy psyche or nurturing a strong sense of self. All these things made me feel overwhelmingly large in any social situation — on the edge, insecure, impossible to hide. And somewhere inside myself, I decided that I might as well BE big, the biggest of them all.

So I worked hard. I studied, got great grades, learned a lot of different things, developed the cooperation gene to the fullest extent possible, and tried to ‘blend in.’ I did what was expected of me, trying not to stir up the dust as I worked.

I did this for a very long time – decades, in fact. I was the quintessential ‘big girl,’ absorbing everyone’s expectations, grief, neuroses, demands, anger, neediness. And somewhere along the way — about the time I started to have babies — I became a really, REALLY large woman. I enveloped myself in a layer of extra pounds that fluctuated from time to time, but always managed to keep me safe, well-padded and sturdy in the midst of whatever turmoil might be raging around me.

I remember successfully losing about 60 pounds one year and going for a dip in the pool at a friend’s house. She turned to me with a surprised look on her face and said, “Wow, Diana, you’re actually quite a small person, aren’t you?”

Can you guess how fast those pounds came right back on? Small? ME? No way. Everything in me was repulsed at the thought, and shocked to think she might be right.

I could not be small, you see. I could not. I did not know myself as a small person. How would I possibly manage all the pain I carried if I were small?

So I made sure I was big enough to shoulder the load.

Please click here to continue the conversation over at SheLoves . . .

Filed Under: Beauty, Encouragement, Enough, Grace, Hard Things, hope, memoir, personal journey, SheLoves, Spiritual Formation, Storytelling

A Lenten Journey: The Wilderness Trail — Day Four

February 21, 2015 By Diana

Psalm 32, The Living Bible

What happiness for those whose guilt has been forgiven!
What joys when sins are covered over!
What relief for those who have confessed their sins and God has cleared their record.

There was a time when I wouldn’t admit what a sinner I was.
But my dishonesty made me miserable and filled my days with frustration.
All day and all night your hand was heavy on me.
My strength evaporated like water on a sunny day until I finally admitted all my sins to you and stopped trying to hide them.
I said to myself, “I will confess them to the Lord.”
And you forgave me! All my guilt is gone.

Now I say that each believer should confess his sins to God when he is aware of them, while there is time to be forgiven.
Judgment will not touch him if he does.

You are my hiding place from every storm of life;
you even keep me from getting into trouble!
You surround me with songs of victory.
I will instruct you (says the Lord) and guide you along the best pathway for your life; I will advise you and watch your progress.
Don’t be like a senseless horse or mule that has to have a bit in its mouth to keep it in line!

Many sorrows come to the wicked, but abiding love surrounds those who trust in the Lord.
So rejoice in him, all those who are his, and shout for joy, all those who try to obey him.

‘Confession is good for the soul,’
they say.
And I think they’re onto
something with that one.

The psalmist clearly knew
this to be true,
and sang loudly about it.

This is a season for
confession, they tell me.
But I wonder,
is it ever not the season?

I think we forget it,
neglect it,
overlook it — in worship,
both corporate and
individual.

But when we remember?
Oh, when we remember!
Then we can sing this song
and mean it.

And it is such a good song.

Please consider subscribing to this series by subscribing to the blog — the box is in the right sidebar. That way, these daily devotionals will show up in your inbox each day of Lent, right up until Easter.

Filed Under: biblical reflection, church year, Encouragement, hope, Lent, Lenten Journey