An Important Peace

This was a thought that a friend shared with me. Thanks, Jim.

Let's say a troubling thing has intruded into my life. Could be poor health, a rupture in a relationship, some crime committed against me. Something that is alarming, or painful, or scary as all getout.

It is what it is, and by God's good intention, produces a brilliant result in my life and in the kingdom...because He is determined to make His Name Great in my life. One of the evidences of God being there as His Beautiful Sovereign Self is the peace He gives (not as the world gives.)

But I can muddy up that shiny, crazy good thing by forfeiting peace. By amplifying anxiety or stewing in unforgiveness or slavishly preferring the non-strength of an idol. However my mode, giving peace away just makes the suffering so much harder! It would be like having someone come into my house and stealing my stereo. And then in my panic and distress, taking a big hammer to the tv, microwave, books, and ebook, just to make the theft more hurtful. It's an insane way to cope with loss. How much better to cast my care on my God who cares for me. How much kinder to my lacerated life to cease being anxious about how this thing will end up, and make my requests known to God who then trades my sorrow for His peace. What a good swap that is!

A Moment to Enthuse

These are two very special ladies in our lives. Nora, on the left, and her older sister, Addie.

Until you have a grandchild, its pretty difficult to make you understand the relationship that develops. Its beyond pride and joy. Its beyond pleasure and enjoyment. Its way better than chocolate and reading. Way better.

When Nora sees me she smiles so wide you can see all of her pretty teeth (there are 4 of them right now). Addie likes to call me Non (rhymes with phone), and pretty much has the best ideas for what to do when we play. When I was a young mom, I felt I needed to juggle chores with playtime. Not as a grandparent. I get to sit down on their level and be with them for however long they like, and play as long as their mom lets us.

The Hunters

Dale and Ben did all the freezing, stalking, waiting, shivering, and then aiming, shooting and dragging to bring these big boys home. We have freezers full of meat! Ben's weapon of choice is his new-to-him WWII era Russian issue, scopeless but with a really accurate sight. Two shots, two deer.











And then we roped some friendly men to do the skinning, carving, slicing and cubing.

Hunting

No pictures yet. But there will be. Oh my, there will be.

6 men and their rifles are heading out to the woods and fields of Boyd County. I am going to cook for them. And enjoy visiting with our hostess, Beth, because we never get enough time to do that.

And there will be legendary stories that this blog will chronicle. Stay tuned...

My Friends

Back in the last century (last millenium even!), like we're saying when I was a teenager, I met Linda and Karen. We were all youngish women who wanted to be involved in cross cultural evangelism. They both had husbands and children. I hadn't met Dale yet, and was on the wild side. Well, wilder than I am now. You will just have to take my word for it.

And we all ended up in Mexico. Living our years in villages in dusty, chilly, windy mountains. Learning languages and cultures. Raising our children to know Mexico as home. Adapting ourselves to limited supplies and different living situations. You should have heard us when our schedules allowed being together in the city. Or visiting each other in the village. Oh did we have stories! I recall the time we were booted from a restaurant because we were too......

And now we gratefully enjoy the moments we can grab here in Norfolk. Or during visits to Mexico. Wherever we can find each other, it's as if we have not been apart. So much of what shaped me shaped them the same way. We have known sacrifice but we have also known the sweetness of comradery. As we are all in different cities, and different careers, I love hearing about their worlds. And trust them to speak into my challenges. I love you two!

Rocky Point

So what if it was a loooong 24 hours of driving to get here. Or that our car didn't have air conditioning over the last baking desert heat. Rocky Point is so beautiful it makes the eyes tear up. Its such a perfect get-away that I swear my heart is beating slower. Picture extreme high and low tides, that regularly expose a coral reef and tide pools. Imagine 85 degree water with tumbling surf. Papaya, mangoes, guayabas, avocados, shrimp the size of my hand, with home made tamales and hand patted tortillas. Oh my. And Dale is here, right here, instead of somewhere else in a court room or on the road.

We certainly could get used to this.

Am I A Mission Trip Junkie? or not?

Today at church Dale and I and the rest of our Mexico 2010 team were allowed to show pictures and tell of how wonderful it was to be serving last May. It was a good reminder for us how much we enjoyed to be together. That we were allowed to see some pretty important changes in the Tarahumara church. That God has transformed people for His glory here and there. Wow.

After the meeting I joined my Thailand team that is heading to Asia next month so that we can help a group of foreign workers in a strategy conference. We hosted a fund raising spaghetti dinner to help with the finances. Somewhere as I was talking to a friend about last summer's India trip, and got to reconnect with the Mexico team and before the planning meeting with my Asia team, someone asked me how I like being involved to the extent that I am. He said something like, 'so its like a where's waldo with you. Find Lori in the mission trip slides!'

We laughed because its true! I look at this year and just marvel that God has allowed me to be invited to so many different trips. I have walked over such different terrains, shaken so many hands, eaten such distinct foods. Said hello in varied languages. Prayed with such beautiful saints. Felt the goosebumps of many, many images of my teams being transfixed at the beauty of what God let them see.

I spend much of my time back at home in gratitude of what I was allowed to know, and in prayer that each of us would be good stewards of what we now know.

And, to be honest, dream of the next trip. Can't lie, I frankly love this!

So Wednesday Night Bible is a really cool event. Not just because we have live worship, or the cutest toddlers in Norfolk strolling around. These things are true but there is even more.

True Story

More than one, but less than a dozen, people have asked me to do something different with my blog. Or start a new one. But maintaining two seems like an awful lot of work. So for the simple acedia of it all, I will just mix it up. Make a salad of posts, as it were.

And as an inauguration of this split-purpose writing exercise, I offer this:

If you read the book of Matthew from the beginning, you read early on (4:23) that Jesus went teaching and proclaiming the gospel of the kingdom. I wondered what it would be like to hear one of those sermons....yeah, I'm that dull. Because, clearly, the sermon on the mount is that same sermon He taught and proclaimed everywhere. And it is such a light-endowing, amplification of God's heart toward His people message. Quite deeper and harder than what the old testament prophets would have said.

And Jesus wraps it up with a perfectly stunning application. 'If you hear these words and do them, you are like the man who built his house on the rock and no amount of rivers or flooding can knock you down.'

Building your 'house' on the sand of ignoring God's ways, or of making yourself king is easy house building. Choose your house design, move a little sand out of the way and 'presto' the house is built. And just like you wanted it made.

Building your 'house' on the rock, is difficult house building. You have to adapt yourself to the rock. You have to let the shape of the rock affect your shape. It is a lifetime of having God's word and ways change you. But the secure and sure foundation, which is Christ Himself!, keeps you from crumbling in the inevitable floods and storms. God knows that our sturdiest position is allowing ourselves to be conformed to Himself. And He also knows well what a weak foundation our own desires and changing wants are.

The following quotation is a direct steal from T Prinzi's blog from the Rabbit Room. It lit up the insides of my brain when I read it and can't seem to stop meditating on it:

We intersect with other's unfinished stories every day, and this should
cause us to be filled with grace toward one another. I think we’re
often like the taunting fairies in George MacDonald's
Phantastes: “Look at him! Look at him! He has begun a story without a
beginning, and it will never have any end! He! he! he! Look at him!”

It’s easy to forget that each of us is stumbling through an unknown land
with hardly the faintest clue what direction we’re heading in, and
it’s easy to taunt each other instead of encourage one another.

Which gives me a clue to a question I have been asking myself. When Jesus tells us to 'not judge' in Matthew 7, He follows that instruction with 'don't cast pearls before swine or give what is holy to dogs'. My question has been, what is judging then? Sounds like judging to me, to call someone a swine or a dog.

But there seems to be an enormous difference between discernment and being judgmental. So the George MacDonald thought above is pointing me toward this thought: I am discerning when I notice that someone is being foolish or simple or scornful or teachable. I am judging when I imagine for a second, and communicate it to any other, that I am never vulnerable in that same way. That it would be unlike me and impossible for me to commit that same sin.

Because I am an unfinished story. I have no certainty what the rest of my life will be like. And in great humility and compassion for the struggles of others, I need to consider that my life is in great peril of stumbling, too. Indeed, I have had overwhelming seasons of stumbling already.

Back From India

I'm not exactly sure why but it takes me a little while to reconnect with my life after I have been gone to India. There are a few reasons that might be true: jet lag seriously messes with my brain. or. It is such a completely altered life for me that I get disoriented trying to rejoin my original me. or. Savoring what I saw and tasted and learned and loved is sweet and I like to savor it long. Maybe all this and more.

Anyway, I love this picture because it reminds me of a hilarious and glorious hour where these accomplished dancers pulled me into their circle and would not let me leave. Twice, I breathlessly stepped out of their midst and they hauled me back in, pulling on my sari. One of the women would slap my arms or back to make sure I watched her and did this thing correctly. I think I finally learned the steps, but I'm not a good judge of that!

As I look at the pictures of India that are on my computer I feel happiness and gratitude that I was allowed to be there again.

A Concert

The other day a number of us gathered at a coffee shop, Indigo Bridges, for a concert. If I hadn't had been there for something else, I would have scouted out the back half of the shop which was rows and rows of books. And the coffee was good! (you don't hear me say that just anywhere)

But there were several musicians singing and playing their original music. It was a lovely night. What makes this post-worthy is that Dear Herman was there. It is remarkable to me what music can do. Words that swirl and pool and pile up in the head can become thoughts. If a creative person lets them become pointed and honed, then those words can be transfered into ideas. Ideas in song that are then caught by other brains. I may not have the entire song memorized but words stand out. Those words swirl and pool in my head to formulate other ideas.

And to be frank, I was just plain dazzled by my daughters' ability to bless and strengthen and inspire a roomful of people. Truly God lets us hear His thoughts about us through their music.

rising waters

Dale and I and some good friends were able to spend last weekend at the Drake's cabin in Long Pine. Those of you who have been there can understand how cool that was. How relaxing and restful and wonderful it was. The only way it could have been improved would have been if the Drakes had been there. And all of our kids and granddaughters. And a long list of our friends and all of the family members that could make it out....

Anyway. Another way it could have been improved would have been if the rain could have stopped! I had this morbid interest in how many steps were being covered with the rising creek. Up to the fourth step! Yikes! Water lapping over the railroad ties.

By Sunday morning we were listening to the radio that kept announcing more roads closed between us and Norfolk. So Dale and the guests took off early Sunday. I stayed on because  of a book I wanted to work on.  So I toughed it out until Tuesday afternoon. I would love to tell you a dramatic tale of rescue and bravery and singlehandedly saving the cabin.

But what I DID do was clean and vacuum and pack the car. Lock the cabin. Wave goodbye. And then spend the next four+ hours avoiding closed roads and overflowing lakes and rivers to arrive finally in Norfolk. All for the compelling reason of having been in the same clothes since Friday since it was too cold for any other of the clothes I had packed. Seriously.

But I did finish my story. It even has a title.

First and Second Samuel

A couple of times a year God allows me to wend my way through the two Samuels in the Bible. I am always eager to dwell and meditate there. Why this narrative moves me so much is still kind of a mystery to me. But moves me it does. And gives me lots to ponder.

Like God's kindness in keeping David from shedding Israelite blood....its sort of a theme. Saul's, Nabal and his servants', a whole army's worth when he was hiding from Saul with a Philistine king. He even grieved when his old mentor, General Abner was killed by a revengeful Joab.

God does the same thing for me! It's like He puts His hand over my mouth and says, 'you sure you want to say that?' which gives me time to reconsider. Or to interrupt my vain thoughts with, 'there is a better way to think'. What a savior we have!

So like God.

Parental Caveat....this is not a nice post.

Last Friday I was up at the hospital interpreting and flipping through a Time magazine. An article there described the ramped up hunt for girls to supply the expected need in brothels in South Africa during the World Cup. Really? As in NO. And OH NO. It blighted my morning. Later, when I walked toward my car I saw that I had gotten two texts. One from my son, Jay who asked me to see a photo of two boys picking through trash in a dump in Bangalore. He knew we had visited there a while back. The other text was from a friend who had just watched a women be honored for her effort in exposing the horrors of the sex trade.

It is difficult to reconcile the safe, clean, friendly way I live in Norfolk to the realities of the rest of the planet. Girls sold to pay a debt. Children foraging for food in a dump. It seems monstrous. It is monstrous. And then God let me hear Him. It sounded something like this:

The long term way for children to be permanently rescued from brothels and hunger is to shift the thinking of their villages and their society. If they can be seen as valuable people who have a right to be equipped to provide for their own needs, then they will not be neglected or sold. 6 years ago a small group of us built a school. This building now educates over 500 children who would have been sold, and who have certainly known hunger. Somehow God allowed us to be invited into the shifting of a entire village.

God is letting us be the point of the spear that is a weapon He is using to undo the dark deeds of child trafficking. Going to India this summer is necessary if we are going to be witnesses of transformation. And speaking of a Good King to these amazing students is a source of Joy!

how 'bout those snakes?

So Liz and I were walking through the back yard, pretty motivated to watch 'The Informant" that we had rented from Redbox (beings as The Young Victoria was unavailable). All thoughts of movie and popcorn and leisure were absolutely erased when our attention was riveted on a squirming/writhing/tumbled ball of snakes. Plural. Oooh! Blech! Agh! We screamed in soprano and acted so girl-like. Unashamedly. The men folks were out golfing and we were alone in a house that was in grave peril of being invaded by this slithering horde.

What to do?

We called snake-killing males in an ever widening circle of distance from the house. We tried several attempts at snake-containment using buckets and rakes and bricks. So futile. Finally one of our brave friends showed up and promptly dispatched a number of the reptiles. He even dug up a few that had escaped into their burrow. The battle field was strewn with snake parts by the end of the episode. Did that allow us to relax and smile in relief? Not really, because we knew there were more down under the grass.

It was a subdued pair who sat and watched Matt Damon, munching some popcorn. Thoughts of snakes sneaking into the gaps in the basement windows are still making me tense.

A bit of Harry Potter

This is a first for me....I have quoted Piper and Lewis and Thackery. I have quoted Twain even more. But this short piece was so piercingly sweet it brought tears to my eyes. Thanks JK.

Harry did not really listen. A warmth was spreading through him that had nothing to do with the sunlight: a tight obstruction in his chest seemed to be dissolving. He knew that Ron and Hermione were more shocked than they were letting on, but the mere fact that they were still there on either side of him, speaking bracing words of comfort, not shrinking from him as though he were contaminated or dangerous, was worth more that he could ever tell them.

Perhaps one has to be in that precise place to understand how he felt. But I have been gifted with the presence of others and bracing words that comfort. People too brave to shrink away from me. What a generous gift that is!!

Phoenix!

These are three happy women at the Phoenix zoo. My dad invited us to go and spend a week with them and we gladly accepted. Basically pool-side the whole time with a brief outing to the zoo so Addie could pet some animals.

And run and giggle and squeal at the spraypark.

Nora perhaps didn't appreciate the details of how cool the week was, but oh my, she was dazzling in her bathing costume!

Thanks Dad and Sue! It was exactly what we needed.

People Are Cool

People are so cool. Some are tiny and some huge. There are old ones and very young ones (loved watching you smile tonight, Ellaina.) Some have adventurous hearts and some that have hearts that are barely beating. You can see hard workers and also hard players. Some are grateful that they can see the sunrise and others that sleep through every sunrise of their lives. Every person I have been privileged to know are different from another. No one is quite like me (lucky universe!) Each one carries a piece that reflects God. Every one was lent the breath of life.

(I ran outside tonight in a gloaming that gave me bursts of speed...it is so beautiful. And even though my breath was running short I couldn't stop running until I arrived home. I want that to be a metaphor for the years of my life.)

Right now I am finding myself in a very sad conflict with a friend. And there is absolutely no way to imagine myself into that other's head to think their thoughts about this tension. Because all of those other cool people are OTHER. As in, NOT ME. Different. And how each person solves distress and discomfort are different. So I bumble along, praying lots. Knowing that my Redeemer has a way through this one too.

Colorado!

This is the view of Blanca, elev 14, 560 ft, from my dad's property in Colorado. Jay and I drove there last weekend to see it and dream about possibilities. By the way, there are LOTS of possibilities. Driving and talking and listening to music and eating and climbing with Jay made for a terrific weekend. He knows how to explore and notice and enjoy. It was the best sort of road trip.

And here we are in a cave that one can find on the west side of this beast of a mountain. To get to the cave Jay had to do a little free climbing on some rocks to the side of the frozen river, and then haul me up over the slippery frozen waterfall. So worth it!

Road Trips That I Have Not Yet Taken

I have gone on many road trips in my life. Like way too many to count. Funny how the ones that stick out, the ones I remember and like to retell always have some obstacle to overcome or some harrowing detail. Like the time our van died in the middle of the river...or sleeping in the suburban on a sub-freezing night, just because. But don't let me get started because I have a Veritable Array of good stories. And this post is about what is to come. The great unknown, as it were. And the really profound thing about cancer is that you begin to realize that you cannot count on every day being a good day for a road trip. (which is true for everyone, but I never believed it until now. Weird.)

Tomorrow Jay and I are going to drive past Pueblo, Colorado to see a piece of property that belongs to my dad. Well, that is the reason we are going to that particular latitude/longitude. But really we just want to get in the car and drive. May this be the first trip of many.

bridge crossing

There are several stories about trolls and bridges and crossing them, aren't there. It would seem that the Grimm Brothers and other authors had scary memories of a pretty ordinary event. I am beginning to understand that crossing a bridge isn't always an action that allows you to see the river from a different view.

I was given some good advise the other day: "wait to cross a bridge until you get to it". Certainly because you may not have to cross it at all. And/or because it will look different close up than from a distant view. I find that taking this advise has been a bracing help for my vivid imagination bouts in the middle of the night. I find it possible and also wise to just skip any conjecture on what a certain procedure will be like. Cancer treatment gives you many opportunities to try new things. And there is inevitably a pause between the doctor's order and the actual test. Plenty of time, in fact, to imagine wild and crazy scenarios. I can guess and wonder with the best of imaginations. What may actually be required to endure has been easier than I thought, or scads harder. Or cancelled altogether.

What ought to be done, then, in the waiting for one's arrival at the bridge? Do what you love. Be with good friends who know how to laugh and sing and speak of a Kind King. And that is why Melissa and Ben and Amy are here right now, working on an impossibly huge jigsaw puzzle with us.

May I recommend a good read?

Letters from the Land of Cancer has been good for me. Its as if an older friend put his arm on my shoulder and pointed me the way to go. Because one of the weights of cancer is the second guessing that goes on in the middle of the night wakefulness. And Wangerin speaks to that! He opens up his thoughts and wrestlings over the disease and its inroads into his quality of life. Such a kind savior is revealed in those pages! He makes much of God!

I feel too squeamish to be as candid as he is. Because my words aren't as used as skillfully as his, it would seem like a long parade of words that whine and flinch. Don't like the feel of that. But I will say that Tuesday's needle biopsy is giving me the willies.

The Interpreter

Dale earns his living by becoming a bridge of words between the jailed and the jailor. Between the prosecuted and the prosecutor. Imagine the fearful anxiety you would feel if you were unable to know what the law was deciding about your guilt and future punishment. I can sense the relief that a prisoner would feel as soon as Dale walks in with his idiomatic and clearly accurate spanish. And his kind gaze. And his respectful interaction. No racism exists in him (how can my latin husband feel contempt for one of his own?).

Dale also has become a faithful bridge of words between his friends and a glorious Savior. Full of affection and hope, Dale speaks of God with a heart that loves Him.

Nora Beth Marie Davy

She is here! Nora was born February 9 at 5:53am. She is so rosy and plump and long-limbed. Her hair is dark and wavy. When she opens her eyes, they just may be sapphire blue. Just enchanting. Watching Addie study her and marvel at her and steal her pacifier is joyful. As in smile wide happy.

The name Nora means 'light'. Beth is the name of her beloved Great Grandmother, Beth Davy. Marie is the name of her precious Great Grandmother, Joan Marie Taylor. You can't beat that as a heritage.

Being a grandma (or Noni) to more than one child is going to be one cool undertaking.

some thoughts

God is determined to make His name great in my life. He is allowed to use anything He chooses to do that. Right now He is using cancer.

I am just where His providence has, in its inscrutable but all-wise and righteous decision, placed me. It may be a position painful, irksome, trying, but it is right. Oh, yes! it is right."



The older I get the more this old body falls apart. The more I am battered and buffeted on the outside, the more I realize 'they' can't really touch the deeper inside of my relationship with Christ. We really are spirit beings who are temporarily clothed in flesh and bones, but these temporary 'clothes' aren't who we are.

I want to make much of God. I was afraid that this regression would make Him look bad, or that my life was a bad sell job on what a grace-filled life looks like. Ha! His glory shines best in the dark places.

What I now have before me is the opportunity to grab my Savior's hand and say, 'I believe'. Because with 'every breath I breathe, He is saving me'.

waiting

I heard it said that waiting is an inactive as a water molecule is devoid of microbes. Meaning that waiting is active. I also heard it said that casting your care on the Lord is not a gentle toss with a bungie cord attached to the care so that it comes back to you. Its an aimed hurl...think of a baseball pitcher. That care is far gone if ridded of properly.

So I am actively waiting, and hurling my cares with deliberate aim at the One Who Knows my end from these middle places.

Babies

So now I am thinking about babies. Probably due to the fact that I get to attend two showers this weekend that are celebrating two women that I love a whole lot. I am nearly dancing with anticipation to see those brand new girl children.

New babies are full of glory. They are so still in their deep sleep. What are they dreaming of? When you catch their gaze and they stare so unsmilingly, what are their thoughts? I always look forward to hearing the sound of their voices. Feeling the solid weight of their heads as they finally fall into sleep on my shoulder is a joy. It seems to me that we who are grown up have this incredibly important, never ceasing charge to communicate in every way given to us that love is worth what it costs. that you can trust people. that taking risks is the fun part of living. that every single grief will be comforted, in time. that life is good.

a snowy day

If there is a lion in a pit and it could just sorta eventually drop dead is there a moral advantage to jump in and kill it right away? Like, could you drum up enough motivation to leap in with a spear and kill it? What if its snowy? Would you call that courage or impatience? Or obedience?

Benaiah killed a lion in a pit on a snowy day. Ever since I was diagnosed with thyroid cancer God gave me that story to ponder. And it has been the single most pushing, shoving, forcing thought given me. At times I have nearly felt His hands on my back, tipping me off the edge into that pit. Sometimes the lion was my dread of a procedure. Sometimes it was initiating conversations about a need I had. Or staring down what the future holds.

I don't know why God added that snow detail. Right now I am snowed in at a hotel in Omaha, awaiting a scan in the morning. How interesting that I drove through a snow storm to get here this morning. How blamed interesting. And right now I could kill that lion with my own bare hands.