Too Much Chocolate

I remember going to the movies with Terri when we were small girls. And us putting our money together to buy one of those big candy bars. The really large ones. And between us eating the whole thing. Yup. And getting home and being unable to eat any of the supper that was waiting for us. All I would want was a glass of milk. Seemed like a tolerable and bearable antidote for all of that chocolate.

So for the past two days I have been on a retreat. Any who know me will know that I took this seriously when you hear that I didn't even bring a book along to read. Only the Bible. I have been quiet and listening. And journaling. But I have also been writing on my story. Lots and Lots of Writing. I feel like my hands were a huge conduit from my mind to the keyboard. And it has been great. Really swell. I am frankly shocked at how much I enjoyed this process. But like the anecdotal commencement to this post, I am 'writed-out'. I wonder what the milk is a metaphor for. (ha! that is a great ungrammatical phrase!) Perhaps two hours of Andrew Peterson on my way back to Norfolk will do the trick.

There is an irrational wish in me today that words would only be allowed for happy and good and cheerful ideas. Because then I would not be allowed to use words like, 'goodbye', and 'death', and 'funeral'. And yet there was such a hushed and holy moment for Dad, Beth, Sue and I as we stood with John during his last moments in his body. And as awful as death is, there is a beauty and strength that can grow in us as we smile through our tears at John's now-at-peace face. Oh how I will miss him! Who else will send me the old-lady birthday cards? And tell me that fighting for life and dreams is Worth It. I cherish the memory of the talks we had this past year.

Now I am in Nebraska. So glad to be with my family and my friends. I have a blessed life! I know a God who blesses!

In Ohio

This week I am in Ohio with my dad, my sister, my sister in law and my great niece (who is basically uber-great, by the way). Oh yeah. And with John.

He is in ICU and we are allowed just a few minutes every 4 hours to be with him. When I am there and say, 'Hi John', whether his eyes are closed or not, he reaches out and holds my hand. Have I ever held his hand like this before? It is profoundly comforting. He is distracted by the fight of his life and yet he makes the effort to ease my distress. When he notices my tears, he smiles. When I told him his best ever child-hood friend called me to see how he was and to pass on his prayers, John said, 'oh, that must be hard for him to know how sick I am'.

All of us are hugging and blinking back tears while we are with each other. We are uttering those heart-good words to each other and about each other. And I pray for a miracle.

If I hold your hand more than you think is necessary, know that it is necessary for me!

John

John is my brother. Here he is with his granddaughter, Skye. This was taken on a happy day we had at McDonalds in Cincinnati.

After outgrowing a pretty intense 'torture' stage as a boy, he grew into an older brother who was the coolest thing on the block. I always wanted to be where he was. Whether playing army in the sugar cane fields, or riding the twister mat down the back hill, or playing soft ball in the vacant lot, his games became my favorite things to do.

He was crazy and crude and completely untame. Even four years in the US Navy didn't dim that glint of 'wild child' in his eye. Its pretty obvious that I chose Dale because he has many of the untame qualities that became to me the definition of what makes a man.

And now John is having to find that crazy zest for a new 'game'. He is fighting against cancer this time. Pray for him, please. Cancer is an ugly beast, but we Crabbs don't quit, do we. If you were here in the room, John, I would geek you.

This past summer, while I was in India, we sang a song at a church service. Maybe you've heard it. Maybe you are tired of it. Until that day I know I was. It is titled, "Here I am to worship".
So my mind was wandering and I began to diagram the sentence and pondered the word, 'here'. I think the gist of the song is to state that I place myself, at this time, as a worshipper. But it can also be a locater. In this place I choose to worship. And it struck me that there is a big difference between God, who is everywhere, and me, who is spatially limited. And I was reminded of a line in an MM Kaye book that quotes a prayer, 'Thou art everywhere but I worship Thee here; Thou art without form but I worship Thee in these forms '. And God gave me those epiphanal shivers. It matters to Him that I was in India worshipping Him. Sure, I could have been having that same transcendent moment in Nebraska. But He so contrived my events that I was 'seeing' him on the other side of the globe. He intended my worship to originate from that latitude-longitude. He delights in my human limitations and uses them to reveal Himself for a glory and a pleasure.

My Confession

Jesus Christ barged into my life when I was 15. Never had heard much about Him before that. But He intruded into my thoughts. My schedule. My plans. My friends. There was no real way for me to avoid pondering His words or His claims. I sorta remember resenting that my life was changing in directions I hadn't chosen. And then He let me see Him. It was dazzling. It was the most brilliant and clear and lovely invitation to join His life. Wowsers. Caedmon's Call has a line in a song that goes like this, "He saved me. He saved me. He pulled me from the grave." Amen. I was dead in a grave and then, presto, I was no longer a cold corpse, but a believing and grateful girl.

So this is my confession, Jesus saw my unbelieving, dead heart and was moved by love to rescue me. He opened my eyes to His cross, grave and resurrection and allowed me to believe that He did it for me.

words words or word swords

When I put the title on my new blog I noticed that the placement of a space made "redundancy" or a really clever title. Hm. The placement of a space. Space is like, nothing. Like pause. Like not anything. And yet in this case, changes an 'echo' into a 'weapon'. Wow. Does silence do that all the time? Does a pause in music or a 'comma rest' in prose have that same power? Too deep for me right now.
But what isn't too deep for me is that I am going to try something new-to-me. Blogging. Can't wait to see where it goes. Can't wait to pin myself down to a printed conviction or observation. And hope that the resultant dialogue that I invite from you, readers, invites the Kingdom in.

Addison was a most welcome guest at our house this past weekend. Her parents were cool enough to be attending a U2 concert in Oklahoma and we were lucky enough to get to have her with us. How do you describe the relationship that has sprung up between me and my granddaughter?

Of course she is smart and funny and really pretty. She is fearless and trusting and curious. She easily adapts to our home and dog and a constant stream of guests. (one exception; am I allowed to say this? that she sort of resists the combined charms of the three Erics that cycle through here? ) When you go to her crib after a nap she tosses (nay, flings) down her binky, ready for what's next.

Her eyes track my face to see what I will suggest next. She is almost always game to whatever I invite her to. Her face most regularly registers a happy joy that evokes echoing smiles from everyone here. Of course I love her. Of course I miss her while she is in Lincoln.

My Man is 52

Today is Dale's birthday. I tell him all the time how cool he is and how much I love him and what a great person he is. So I don't need a birthday for all of that. But I don't usually make chocolate chip cream cheese cupcakes (by the dozen!) so that he can share them with his friends. But I did today.

It wasn't a marathon. It wasn't even long enough outside to warrant sunscreen. But a 5K run (3.1 miles) was hard work. And I finished! 4th place in my age group (don't ask how many of us 50 year olds were there, because I ain't telling) I cannot describe well how it felt to run and then to cross the finish line (in front of the 10 year old twins who kept pace with me the whole way). Let's just say the feelings include joy, fatigue, pride, unity....like I earned my Governor's Cup Tshirt. And I want to do it again.

A Wedding

Michael Card wrote about the wedding at Cana. He suggests that Jesus loved celebrating that wedding because He was looking forward to His own. Dale and I just celebrated Ben and Amy's wedding last weekend. It was joyful and delicious and beautiful. My face hurt from smiling so much. And I am not looking forward to my own wedding to come, but found it full of joy anyway. There was so much evidence that this was the right time, the right people, the right place. And so many witnesses who said ,'amen and amen' to that.

Amy and I were discussing the difference between attraction and respect. Both important. Which would you choose if you could have only one...etc. She made me so happy when she said, ' its worth waiting for so that you can have both'.

God bless both of you!

Food for the hungry

Today there were a couple of hundred people who gathered at the college because we were invited to work together to fill small 400 gm food bags for hungry people. While we were scooping rice, soy, dried veggies and this odd sort of bullion disc into plastic bags there were sporadic announcements made over the PA system. Things like, 'yay! we have reached the 20,000 meal milestone!' or, 'be sure your apron doesn't touch the floor'. or 'thanks for coming'.

And then there was this sort of jolting announcement made that cut right through the table conversation. Worded something like this, '40,000 people die every day from hunger. That's right, like in every 2 seconds someone dies because they haven't eaten.' It was a painfully electric moment. My inner speech conversation was meditating on the idea that my skimpy two pancake breakfast had evaporated and what was I going to eat for lunch, since I had a pretty wide choice. And then I was forced to meditate on the thought of how long would it take for me to die of hunger. And does it hurt? In those hungry places, if you saw someone who was no longer eating, what would it be like to hoard your own food, or share your insufficient meal with them and then with how many before none of you had enough. I cannot wrap my mind around it. To postpone buying stuff because money is short is one thing.

To postpone eating because there is no food is another.

I am glad that all of us well fed people spend hours today filling bags of food for someone else. But all of a sudden it seems grossly inadequate.