personal journey

About Settling Down . . . A Deeper Story

January 6, 2014 By Diana

Every month, I share a story at one of my favorite websites ever, A Deeper Story. This month, I am once again writing for the Family Channel. Here’s a piece of this month’s story and a link so you can read the rest:

You think you know so much when you’re twenty years old. When that third decade begins, you’re a little bit full of yourself, impressed with what you’ve learned in school and in life, and convinced that you’ll be able to handle whatever life throws your way.

And, if you were a 20-year-old raised in the 50s and 60s, you also understood the order of things, especially if you were a female. Even more especially if you were a female raised in the conservative wing of the Christian church. Your life was pretty well mapped out for you: childhood, adolescence, a little bit of young adulthood, marriage, motherhood.

Being an eldest child with a strong sense of propriety and extraordinarily overactive responsibility glands, you did exactly what was expected of you. So, in the year you turned 20, you got yourself married. You found a good, Christian man, dated him (carefully!) for a good long time, got engaged and then, of course, you “settled down.”

Well, five out of six ain’t bad, right? The meeting, finding, dating, engaging, marrying thing you did according to plan. It’s the settling down part you’ve struggled with for the last — how many is it now? — FORTY-EIGHT years.

I chalk it up to delayed and extended adolescent rebellion, that’s what. As an eager-to-please, hyper-obedient child and youth, you never truly rebelled against anything or anyone. And that remarkable man you married? He wasn’t exactly a rabble-rouser, either, was he?

Yet somehow, you’ve traveled this wild and wooly, sometimes adventurous, always unique journey-through-life that began with an afternoon of “I do’s” at the end of 1965. Now you’re taking a gander at 2014, as it rises out of the fog and begins to take shape. Holy crap, next year, you’ll hit the big 5-0. Can you believe it? Doesn’t that happen to old people?

I look at the pictures from this most recent anniversary and I still see those kids in there, those good kids who so wanted to do ‘the right thing,’ whatever the heck that was. Yes, the years have added pounds to our frames and lines to our faces and a whole lotta white hair to the head of at least one of us.

But you know what else I see? A couple of undercover rebels, that’s what. We obeyed the rules, we followed the protocol, yet somehow, we never managed to settle down, did we? At least, not in the way our parents envisioned settling.

Please click on this line to read the rest over at A Deeper Story. . .

Filed Under: A Deeper Family, A Deeper Story, Aging, Dreams/Dreaming, Encouragement, family, God's gifts, Grandparenting, Marriage, parenting, personal journey

A New Year, A New Word, A New Direction

January 4, 2014 By Diana

I’ll tell you what: I am not a fan of this whole one-word thingy.

Why?

Because for the second time now, I do.not.like the word that came. (previous experience – 2012; word? w a i t i n g)

Okay, so I asked. Both times.

And each time, the word is hard, complex, puzzling.

Obedient? REALLY? This argumentative, rebellious, pushy, bossy heart?

Uh. . . that would be a YES. A great, big, gnarly YES.

Sigh.

But here’s a sweet and interesting piece to this story. Immediately after dropping that doozy of a word into my conscious mind, the Holy Spirit began to sing to me. Yes, you read that right.

Not actual music-music, but a sweetness, a lightness, an invitation, a softening of the shock of knowing that ‘obedient’ is the word for 2014.

“Let’s look at this word in a new way, Diana,” the song seemed to say.

And I was reminded of the only sermon I ever preached on the topic of obedience, coming out of Hebrews 5, where we’re told that Jesus ‘learned’ obedience. The incarnate Son of God, just like the rest of us frail human creatures, had to learn what it means to be obedient. And yes, he learned through his suffering.

And I’m not terribly fond of that whole concept, you know?

But as I wrestled with that text, I did it in the context of . . . wait for it! . . . bird-watching. I sat in my backyard and I watched the birds that flit and float and hover around us here in central California.

And I realized something. The birds do what comes naturally — they are being birds, with their whole hearts (if birds can be said to have hearts).

Birds are obedient to who they are.

And so was Jesus.

And I believe that I am invited to re-consider that word in that context: to be obedient to who I am, who it is God has called and formed me to be. To be true to my gifts, to be open to the Spirit, to discover more and more about what God is whispering into my life.

Yes, that may involve suffering of a sort — occasional discomfort, maybe even downright fear, probably a lot of truth-telling.

Toward the end of last year, I began to sense an invitation to re-think this blogging space. I’m still mulling on that and hope to soon have another post or two about where I’m headed in 2014.

Maybe it will involve things like this: wrestling with hard things, searching for answers, learning to sit with the mystery when answers aren’t easy to find, maybe even speaking the teensiest bit prophetically?

YIKES.

Are you sure about this, Lord?

Tune in next week. I hope to have more details for you then . . .

Adding this to the growing list over at Bonnie’s place on January 9:

Filed Under: Blogging, Hard Things, Mystery, OneWord, personal journey

An Advent Journey, 2013: Looking for the Light – Day Nineteen

December 19, 2013 By Diana

Until the time when we were mature enough to respond freely in faith to the living God, we were carefully surrounded and protected by the Mosaic law. The law was like those Greek tutors, with which you are familiar, who escort children to school and protect them from danger or distraction, making sure the children will really get to the place they set out for.

But now you have arrived at your destination: By faith in Christ you are in direct relationship with God. Your baptism in Christ was not just washing you up for a fresh start. It also involved dressing you in an adult faith wardrobe—Christ’s life, the fulfillment of God’s original promise.

In Christ’s family there can be no division into Jew and non-Jew, slave and free, male and female. Among us you are all equal.That is, we are all in a common relationship with Jesus Christ. Also, since you are Christ’s family, then you are Abraham’s famous “descendant,” heirs according to the covenant promises.

Galatians 3:23-29-The Message

Of the many good and great things wrought by the Incarnation, this passage in Galatians surely represents one of the most beautiful and most freeing.

The Law is fulfilled, its purpose served. God has come among us and now, because of the birth and life and death and resurrection and ascension of Jesus Christ, we are — all of us — in direct relationship with God.

These three short paragraphs are astoundingly beautiful and profound, aren’t they? We are ‘at our destination,’ as Paul puts it: in Christ we are all equal, we are all family. No divisions, no higher or lower than, no hard-and-fast roles to play. We are ONE.

Is that not amazing?

So why, I wonder, can we not live this truth and enjoy it? Why do we resort to finger-pointing, labeling, categorizing, sublimating, separating?

Maybe this is exactly why we need to celebrate Christmas every year. To remind ourselves of who we are – our own selves, and all the selves who worship around us, who write blogs out in cyberspace, who write books and pontificate and theorize and stigmatize. We are all one . . . IN CHRIST.

Hallelujah!

Mighty Savior, will you help us to celebrate who we are because of you? Please remind us of this liberating truth: we are equal in your sight. There is no racial, gender, or ethnic distinction that amounts to a hill of beans in the life of the kingdom. Not.One. Praise your name!

Filed Under: Advent, An Advent Journey, biblical reflection, church year, daily devo, Encouragement, ministry, personal journey, women, Women in Ministry

An Advent Journey, 2013: Looking for the Light – Day Sixteen

December 16, 2013 By Diana

As the deer longs for streams of water,
so I long for you, O God.

I thirst for God, the living God.
When can I go and stand before him?
Day and night I have only tears for food,
while my enemies continually taunt me, saying,
“Where is this God of yours?”

My heart is breaking
as I remember how it used to be:
I walked among the crowds of worshipers,
leading a great procession to the house of God,
singing for joy and giving thanks
amid the sound of a great celebration!

Why am I discouraged?
Why is my heart so sad?
I will put my hope in God!
I will praise him again—
my Savior and my God!

Now I am deeply discouraged,
but I will remember you—
even from distant Mount Hermon, the source of the Jordan,
from the land of Mount Mizar.
I hear the tumult of the raging seas
as your waves and surging tides sweep over me.

But each day the Lord pours his unfailing love upon me,
and through each night I sing his songs,
praying to God who gives me life.
“O God my rock,” I cry,
“Why have you forgotten me?
Why must I wander around in grief,
oppressed by my enemies?”

Their taunts break my bones.
They scoff, “Where is this God of yours?”

Why am I discouraged?
Why is my heart so sad?
I will put my hope in God!
I will praise him again—
my Savior and my God!

Psalm 42 – NLT

I love this psalm — the back and forth between lament and praise, the sometimes dizzying roller coaster ride through the peaks and valleys of the life of faith. And threading its way through the entire, beautiful ride, is the glimmering thread of desire.

What do I want? What do I really want?

I want more of God. I do. There are times when I hunger for God above all things, when I desire to experience God’s grace and love, God’s presence and comfort. And there are times when I experience the ‘goodness of God in the land of the living.’

But I also want to be comfortable; people to like me; my children and grandchildren to be whole and healthy; my mom to be more fully the mom I’ve always known; to be a stronger, more disciplined person; my life to be easier.

And when those things are not happening, I can easily become discouraged. Like the psalmist, I hearken back to days of old, when I felt God’s presence, when everybody was well, when mom was mom, when my body was less creaky, when I had more energy.

So I cry out in those times, cry out to God for relief and for reminders.

And what I’m learning to ask for in the midst of these times of discouragement is the gift of remembrance, the ability to think back on ‘the good times’ without nostalgia. Why? Because I think that nostalgia, at its heart, involves regret. And regret — wishing for things that cannot be — is counter-productive to a life lived in gratitude and praise. Remembrance, which I define as reflection-without-regret, seems to naturally elicit exactly that — gratitude and praise, both of which help to lead me to peaceful memories of what was and joyous acceptance of what is.

During this season of Advent, and its invitation to the quieter emotions, when I reflect on this favorite psalm, I try to picture the ‘streams of water,’ our source of refreshment and rest. And in my mind’s eye, I try to see the Rock which is underneath it all. The Rock, out of which the only true refreshment I know emerges. And as that River of Life flows downstream, I pray that it will burble its way right into the likes of me.

Our Rock and our Redeemer, will you help us to desire you above all things? Help us to remember well, to let praise and gratitude flow right out of us as your loving presence flows right into us. Thank you. Thank you.

Filed Under: Advent, An Advent Journey, biblical reflection, church year, daily devo, Encouragement, hope, Lament, personal journey, Uncategorized

A Safe Place: A Deeper Story

December 9, 2013 By Diana

As I began to wade into the waters of the internet at the end of 2009 and the beginning of 2010, I wound my way over to this remarkable place called “A Deeper Story.” I was in transit at that point in my life, moving into retirement, giving up an identity I had happily filled for fourteen years as pastor and leader in my church. I wondered what was next for me, where God would have me thinking and working. And the only thing I knew, in those early days, was that I had a clear and direct call from God to write, and that call had the word ‘stories’ in it.

I’ve done a lot of exegetical, theological, spiritual and psychological work to become the person I am at this juncture of my life. And I could, if I chose to, make a good ‘argument’ for what I believe and why I believe it. But I was increasingly convinced, as I read all around the blogosphere, that I did not want to argue; I wanted to tell my story.

All of my stories, to be more precise. The fun ones, the adventurous ones, the love-filled ones — of course, yes, hooray. But I also wanted to tell the stories of wondering and wandering, of doubting and wrestling. And I wanted to read stories like that, too.

And “A Deeper Story” was the very best place I found to do that. The reading part, at least. And I read them all. Every single one.

And then, lo and behold! Just over a year ago, an invitation came for me to tell my stories in that rich space — a gift straight from the hand of God, courtesy of Megan Tietz. And this place has been a good, welcoming, wrestling place for me.

And here’s why.

All the people who write regularly or guest post at this site are starting from different places along the journey. We do not all agree on theology or politics or child-raising or any other topic you might care to mention. We do agree that we’re following hard after Jesus, and some days that’s a lot harder to do than others.

And that right there has been a tremendous gift. We care about one another, we encourage one another, we listen, we welcome. And our regular readers do that, too. The entire experience has been gift.

Right now, the site is in the midst of a pretty massive overhaul. It’s a necessary part of the growing process. And Nish Weiseth, whose brainchild ADS is, has been paying ALL of the costs connected to keeping this site going up to this point. Now, however, we’re turning a corner of sorts.

We’re growing up.

And as any parent will readily agree, growing up is expensive. So we’re asking for some help.

There is a Fundly campaign going on right now, today. And the goal is $4,000.

I am confident that the readers of ADS will help us reach that goal and, in addition, will give Nish a nice, comfy cushion to keep us afloat for a good, long time. I’ve already made a gift and may very well do so again.

Can I invite you over to the website today to read all about this from Nish’s perspective? You’ll find a link to the campaign over there.

Thanks so much for being a friend of mine and of this blog — and for following me over to ADS when one of my posts is up over there.

Filed Under: A Deeper Family, Blogging, community, Creativity, Dreams/Dreaming, Encouragement, giving, personal journey, Writing

Holy Ground in the Lunchroom

December 4, 2013 By Diana

Wednesday is my day to take my Mom out to lunch.
She lives in a dementia unit nearby, a lovely place.
She loves her room, she thinks the food is great,
and she talks about moving almost every time we are together.

I get that, I do.
All my life, my mom has been a restless soul.
She loved to move the furniture around,
to create beautiful tableaus on tabletops,
counters, corners.
She dreamed of traveling,
and she did a fair amount of it, too,
and she often wondered if there was
more she could be doing with her life.

There are days when my mother forgets she is old.
Why not? She forgets lots of other things, too.
And I think there are days when she just
rebels against the whole idea!

And I get that, too.
I’m not crazy about all the indignities
that come with an aging body.

Today, she forgot to put her ‘teeth’ in,
a bridge across the back of her mouth,
and a ‘flipper’ in the front.
Usually, you cannot tell that her
front teeth are fake,
and you can never see that bridge.

But today, there was no denying it —
there was a gaping hole where her teeth should have been.
And her blouse was gaping in a few places, too.
One of the drugs she takes — which has almost
eliminated some troubling auditory hallucinations —
very occasionally causes weight gain in a small number of patients.

And, of course! given our genetic heritage,
my mom is one of that number.
She looks beautiful always, but a few of her clothes —
especially blouses that button — just don’t work as well
as they used to work.

And part of me found these small things
deeply troubling and sad,
further evidence of the ways in which
my mother, as I have known her,
is slowly disappearing.

But as I’ve thought about it and prayed about it
throughout this afternoon and evening,
I believe I’ve been given a gift today,
an answer to the pleading of my heart,
my begging prayer for a way to love my mother
exactly as she is right now,
a teary request to find a path through the sorrow.

So tonight, I look back on our time together,
and I see my mother in an almost ethereal light,
I remember a radiance that I cannot explain except to say
that Jesus lives in her —
the her she once was, and the her she is at this minute.
And that lunchroom where we sat?

Holy ground.

It was cold and blustery today,
too cold to take mom outside her facility,
too cold to go up and sit by the pool, as we often do.
So we sat together at the familiar tables
of her dining room, quietly enjoying
a turkey sandwich, Waldorf salad, jello.

And I watched as my mother smiled her beautiful smile
at every single person she saw.
I listened as she said to the aide,
“How would I get through a day without you?”
I heard her tell me, after we returned to her room,
and I set up a few small Christmas decorations,
“Oh, how lovely! Thank you so much, Diana.
I love you so much, I’m so glad you came today.”

By this time, we had found her teeth.
I had persuaded her to give me the blouse,
to store with her spring clothes,
which sit in a bin in my guest room.
She donned a new knit pullover shirt
in a beautiful magenta color. . .

And there were no more gaps.

The truth is, there never had been.

Thanks be to God.

Joining this tonight with Ann, Jennifer, Jen, Emily and Heather:

Filed Under: Aging, Beauty, family, Hard Things, hope, personal journey, The Journey with Mom

An Advent Journey, 2013: Looking for the Light – Day Two

December 2, 2013 By Diana

If it had not been the Lord who was on our side
—let Israel now say—
if it had not been the Lord who was on our side,
when our enemies attacked us,
then they would have swallowed us up alive,
when their anger was kindled against us;
then the flood would have swept us away,
the torrent would have gone over us;
then over us would have gone
the raging waters.

Blessed be the Lord,
who has not given us
as prey to their teeth.
We have escaped like a bird
from the snare of the fowlers;
the snare is broken,
and we have escaped.
Our help is in the name of the Lord,
who made heaven and earth.
— Psalm 124, NRSV

We wait for the coming,
of the babe,
and of the Christ.
And every coming
is marked by this one thing,
this splendid, unique,
life-changing truth:
freedom.

“the snare is broken,
and we have escaped. . .”
This is the center,
the truth that holds
everything together.

The Lord is on our side.
Who could imagine?
On our side,
come what may,
even when what comes
brings heartache,
pain and fear.

And the truth is also this:
to know the unshackling,
to find the Presence,
there is only one way,
one road,
one thing required:

waiting.

It is in the waiting,
that we are changed,
we are saved,
we are made free.

Hallelujah.
Amen.

Teach us more about waiting, O Lord. We don’t like it, we resist and rebel, but oh! we must learn, we must. Thank you for forming us in this waiting time.

* As an added Advent bonus, I heartily recommend you click on this link and meander over to SheLoves fine post on Random Acts of Advent Kindness. I’m going to try and do this as often as possible and I encourage you all to check it out for yourselves.

Filed Under: Advent, An Advent Journey, biblical reflection, church year, daily devo, Encouragement, God's gifts, personal journey, Waiting

A Letter to December

November 30, 2013 By Diana

Ah, Dear Friend,

We know each other well, do we not? So many years of immersion in all the folderol and all the richness of your seasonal gifts. Shall I list the ways?

the wedding plans, midway through my senior year of college
and all the subsequent anniversaries that got lost in the shuffle, some years more seriously than others — and there have been a lot of years, haven’t there? 48 on the 18th
a beautiful baby girl, 2nd of 2, born on the 2nd, with big brown eyes and a deliciously feisty spirit
choral concerts up the wazoo, every Christmas for most of my years until . . .
we moved to Santa Barbara for me to take a pastoral position in a church without a choir. Go figure.
writing Advent invitations for worship for about 20 years
preaching one Sunday in Advent for about 20 years, too
decorating the house with W-A-A-A-Y too many Christmas decorations, collected over the decades, starting with homemade delights from each of the kids and this year, adding some special ornaments from our moms’ collections
sweating (and swearing) our way to a steady, straight fresh tree in front of the windows; it gets harder every dang year
enjoying nativity sets collected from round the globe
singing the songs
reading the scriptures
pondering the mystery
regretting the over-spending
enjoying the gift-giving
collapsing on the 26th, exhausted but generally, more than content

I have a bit of a love-hate relationship with you, I must admit. The candlelit service on Christmas Eve gets me every time. But the lugging of bins, the setting up the stuff, the overkill with gifts — yeah, that has gone above and beyond what is needful and what is healthy at points.

So, December, what’s it gonna be? Will we find our way to a happy medium this year? Just enough of the good stuff and a little less of the not-so-good?

I pledge to do my part. Can you say the same?

Fondly,

Diana

This post is written in response to a prompt from Elora Nicole at her fabulous Story Sessions site. If you would like a series of thoughtful, evocative writing invitations, if you would enjoy being connected with a smaller (but ever-growing) group of other writers, may I suggest you check this site out? Just click here to read all about it.

Filed Under: Christmas, Church, church year, Creativity, family, Fun, giving, God's gifts, Marriage, parenting, personal journey, Story Sessions Writing Prompts, worship

The Sliding of the Seasons

November 29, 2013 By Diana

Today is the day after, the sliding day, the one that marks the shift from one special day on the calendar to an entire season of special. We chose to be quiet this day, to stay at home, eat leftovers, enjoy the freshness of the sky after rain.

So I sit in my usual spot, computer on my lap, and I drink in the richness of the gifts with which we have been lavished.
Sixteen of us gathered at our son’s home, to feast and laugh and say ‘thank you.’ The chiminea was lit, the appetizers spread, and we carefully helped my mother maneuver the short distance from car to house.

Our gifted daughter-in-law had a spread worth gaping at, with contributions from her mother and my older daughter, and a magnificent bird, smoked after brining.

The table was laid, complete with candy turkeys and bright colored decor, handmade by the 3-year-old at nursery school.
Laughter floated on the breeze, children implored Poppy to play games, food was warmed and presented and appreciated.

We have about four vegetarians and one vegan in our number, and Rachel and Lisa had prepared several scrumptious dishes that they could pile on their plates. We all had a Feast.
And dessert? Fuggedaboutit. An amazing collection of things divine and delish. Joel contributed hand made Bordeaux candies, Lisa baked pumpkin cookies and hand-sized apple pies, Rachel a decadent bourbon/maple pumpkin pie. I added some lemon pie squares and mom contributed a box of See’s Nuts ‘n’ Chews. Yeah, we had enough to eat.
Luke played a little piano, the kids and young adults played a little dominoes, and to cap off the evening, those not interested in watching football had a lively conversation about lasers and accelerators and all things strange and wonderful. My mom didn’t understand a lot of it, but she loved it. I think it helped her to remember who she is – a vibrant, interesting, interested woman who is always searching to learn more. The words will be lost, but the emotions will stay around a while.
And as we carefully got mom back in the car for the drive across town, I took a last look at that candle in the middle of the table. It seemed the perfect closing image for the day – one small light in the midst of it all, a beacon, a reminder of this next season of holy waiting, this time of Advent.

On Sunday, I will begin a daily small series, an Advent journey. A photo, some scripture, a few words of reflection, a prayer. Nothing grand, nothing splendiferous, just a small offering of thanks and worship as we slide into the next season.

Filed Under: Advent, Aging, Beauty, Birds, community, family, Fun, God's gifts, Grandparenting, personal journey, The Grandkids, The Journey with Mom

Philip or Andrew?

November 17, 2013 By Diana

I am indebted to the fine homiletical work of our pastor Don Johnson for the thrust of this reflection. His sermon this morning was dead on, and so very important. Please read the gospel lesson, the Word of the Lord for the saints in Santa Barbara this morning:

John 6:1-15, NLT

After this, Jesus crossed over to the far side of the Sea of Galilee, also known as the Sea of Tiberias. A huge crowd kept following him wherever he went, because they saw his miraculous signs as he healed the sick. Then Jesus climbed a hill and sat down with his disciples around him. (It was nearly time for the Jewish Passover celebration.) Jesus soon saw a huge crowd of people coming to look for him. Turning to Philip, he asked,“Where can we buy bread to feed all these people?” He was testing Philip, for he already knew what he was going to do.

Philip replied, “Even if we worked for months, we wouldn’t have enough money to feed them!”

Then Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother, spoke up. “There’s a young boy here with five barley loaves and two fish. But what good is that with this huge crowd?”

“Tell everyone to sit down,” Jesus said. So they all sat down on the grassy slopes. (The men alone numbered about 5,000.) Then Jesus took the loaves, gave thanks to God, and distributed them to the people. Afterward he did the same with the fish. And they all ate as much as they wanted. After everyone was full, Jesus told his disciples,“Now gather the leftovers, so that nothing is wasted.” So they picked up the pieces and filled twelve baskets with scraps left by the people who had eaten from the five barley loaves.

When the people saw him do this miraculous sign, they exclaimed, “Surely, he is the Prophet we have been expecting!” When Jesus saw that they were ready to force him to be their king, he slipped away into the hills by himself.

It was hot, dusty, flies and people milling about,
buzzing, buzzing.
Over 5000 folks climbed that hillside with the water view,
oldsters and children, men and women,
seekers and hangers-on —
wondering and wandering and wanting to see
what the rabbi might do,
to hear what he might say.

Jesus was the newest ‘show in town,’ and everyone was curious.
They had seen (or heard) about the healings, the ‘signs,’
and they wanted to see a few for themselves.
So they hoofed it, out into the countryside, hiking up the hill by the lake,
hanging around, waiting for the show to begin.
The star of the show, however, gathered his closest friends and went to
the tippy-top of that hill and . . . what?
Gathered the props for a magic show?
Laid out a careful plan for crowd management?
Discussed what the format for the day should look like?

None of the above.
None of it.
Oh, there is a sign coming —
and a doozy of a sign, too.
And the crowd will be pleased,
so overwhelmingly convinced that Jesus
is the latest hot number,
that they will succumb to mob mentality
and try to force the guy to become
their next Grand Poobah.
(Something which Jesus will have NONE of.)

No. There is no talk of technique or teaching,
there is a simple lesson in faith, told to two particular disciples.
Rather than a story about the crowd.
or even a story about a ‘trick’ or a sign,
this is something else entirely.

This is a story about
contrasting worldviews,
personal invitations,
scarcity and plentitude,
faith and doubt.

This is a story about possibilities
and whether or not those who follow Jesus
are open to them.

This is a story about Philip and Andrew.

And this is a story about giving what we have,
no matter how small it might look to us,
to the gentle, prayerful care of Jesus the Christ,
and then waiting to see
how too little
becomes more than enough.

That is a barley loaf in the pictures above.
Poor people’s bread in 1st century Palestine,
the bare minimum for a day’s calories.
Crumbly and salty, even tasty, when you get used to it,
what a mother might pack for her son
for a picnic by the lake.

A far cry from Philip’s anxious bean-counting,
(“Even if we worked for months, we wouldn’t have enough to feed all these people!”)
and the only small thing that Andrew could dredge up
in his cursory survey of the crowd.
A boy’s lunch basket.
That’s all he had.

And it was more than enough.

Neither Philip nor Andrew could see that more-than-enough
when they looked at that little lunch.
But Andrew had a hunch, just an inkling,
and he wasn’t all that sure about it, either.
But he brought that small bag of food,
and he gave it to Jesus.

What small thing can I bring to the top of that hill today?
What paltry gift can I bring?
Can I take my eyes off of the need that seems to
surround and overwhelm,
and look only at Jesus?
Only at Jesus.

Can I resist the attitude of scarcity that oozes out of Philip,
can I turn away from my proclivity for anxiety rather than trust,
my inclination to look at the crowd rather than at Jesus,
my unholy need to control outcomes
rather than let the Holy-Spirit-power-of-my-Redeemer
have its way with the little, the last, the least and the lost?

Ah, Jesus. Have mercy on me, a sinner.
Help me to be an Andrew.
Not quite sure, but willing.
Wondering about outcomes,
but handing it over,
no matter how small it looks.

After church,
after lunch,
after a deep breath and a deep sigh,
we piled my 92-year-old mom into our car
and headed 80 miles east toward her 90-year-old sister,
who is dying this week.

When pastor Don asked us to write down the small things we have,
the things that we find when we search our hearts
and our calendars and our commitments,
the things we need to bring to Jesus —
these two were on the top of my list:
my writing
my mother.
And today was a day for my mother.

It was a hard day, a tiring one, filled with confusion
and fear and grief.
It was a day when I had to pray for grace and for patience
every second of every minute of every hour.

I had a hard time looking at Jesus
in the midst of this particular crowd.
I had a hard time sitting down on the grass
and partaking of the bounty that comes
from not enough when it is given over to the Savior.

But there were glimpses.
There was beauty.
There was grace.
My beautiful cousin, looking at her mama with so much love.
My beautiful aunt, rousing just enough
to grab her sister’s hand and cry, “Ruthie! Ruthie! It’s you, it’s you!”
My beautiful mother, having to meet her grief
over and over and over,
as she forgot who the woman in the bed was,
and then remembered when I gently repeated,
“This is Eileen, your sister, your best friend.”
And the beauty of old songs, sweetly sung.
“On a hill far away. . .”
“For God so loved the world. . . “
“Away in a manger. . .”
“I come to the garden alone. . . “
Every word sung by the sisters and the cousins,
every word an offering of love to each other,
and to the God who gives us songs to sing.

Every word, a reminder that when we give it to Jesus,
the little things are more than enough.

An update, late on Tuesday night: my much-loved, delightful, charming, fun-loving Aunt Eileen
moved into the arms of Jesus at 9:46 p.m.
Thanks be to God and peace to her memory.

Offering this small thing to Laura, Michelle, Jen, Jennifer, Ann and Emily this week, grateful for the ways in which they each point me to Jesus and away from the crowd.