wordswordswords

What could I do to....

2012-02-16T15:51:00.000-08:00

Caveat: this is about marriage. And lately I've been thinking alot about what makes a strong marriage. Or a happy one, or a good one.

So how about we ask ourselves regularly this question: 'what could I do to make my marriage stronger.' This isn't a time to ponder what our spouse could do. Or how easier it would be if certain circumstances were different. But today, things being what they are, people being who they are, me being who I am right now, what could I do?

Could I realign myself with what I know I should do? (forgive much, speak with kindness, consider the other's interests are more important to me than my own, etc) Could I notice a trend that needs a Gospel application? Repentance is always the right thing to do. Or, could I see where my spouse needs to be righteously opposed in a way he has chosen?

A few months ago I was asked to speak at a friend's happy happy wedding shower. I came up with a top ten list of the bonuses of being married. Frankly some of them were silly, but the last one said,

"Best of all, to know the glory and joy and dazzle and death of giving happiness to an honorable man. For the rest of your life."

So today, the answer to myself, of what I could do is: To look for a way to give happiness to my honorable man.

A Rearrangement of Ideas

2011-12-13T19:24:00.000-08:00

This is vintage Rich Mullins:

"God calls us to 'be strong' and we mistake that for a call to omnipotence. We confuse strength to endure trials with an ability to walk unfrustrated through life. We convince ourselves that if we were strong we would never fail, never tire, never hurt, never need. We begin to measure strength in terms of ease of progress. When our illusion of omnipotence is shattered we condemn ourselves for being weak..."

It is the kindness and mercy of God that so coordinates events to instruct us in how this thing really works. He has always been aware of my frailty and how regularly I need Him. If I walk blind to that truth, He is glad to open my eyes. It is His delight and His glory for me to need Him, to be aware of my need, to be grateful for His provision.

depraved indifference

2011-11-22T18:38:00.000-08:00

I am lifting this title from a brief talk given by a fellow named Eric Ludy...

Indifference to another human's plight is spoken of in clear terms in Proverbs 24: 'Rescue those being taken away to death: hold back those who are stumbling to the slaughter. If you say, "Behold, we did not know this," does not he who weighs the heart perceive it? Does not he who keeps watch over your soul know it, and will he not repay man according to his work?'

How do you apply a teaching like this one? Where does this fit? I have had God use this to highlight my self absorbed agendas more than once. There are stages in my life that one could accurately describe my choices as ignorantly indifferent. Because I may not have been made aware of oppression or slavery or cruel need. But once I know, then my indifference is 'depraved'.

And this may seem so small as to be laughable or worse, but I cannot drink coffee that I know was harvested by unpaid and ill treated child slaves. Thousands of them toiling and dying. I cannot eat a piece of chocolate that is made from beans harvested by unpaid and ill treated child slaves. And if this is too paltry, then God, please lead me to a way that will effectively abolish slavery.

The 4th of July

2011-07-04T05:09:00.000-07:00

Dale and I were singing the National Anthem the other day and both of us were surprised that we were moved to tears. As I was wiping my eyes, it seemed more real to me that this song was written during a battle. While Francis Key was waiting through that long and noisy night, others were fighting with all they had. Men were being wounded and dying. Property was destroyed as shells and bombs landed. And the burning question was, 'will we win?'

In the dark you couldn't see which flag was displayed over the port. You had to wait until daylight to see if Old Glory was still waving or if it had been replaced by the Union Jack. How excruciating! All that death and dying and exhausting labor, and not knowing if, in the end, you would lose. Or win.

Seems like a metaphor for life in this body. I know that the end of the story has a glorious victory for all of us. We will smile like cheshire cats at each other and praise the Lamb for what His sacrifice accomplished. But in this life, while still in this body, we can struggle to overcome. We can labor and fight the dark. And lose. Or win.

Joy is wafting

2011-06-24T14:52:00.001-07:00

I was making iced tea so that I could offer more than water to our guests tonight. I felt this wafting, gentle, breeze around me as I reached up for the tea bags. Not moving air, but something internal. Margarita was in the living room and wants me to teach her to make pasta salad, so I was thinking how to break up the steps for her to be able to use the concept any way she wants once she returns to Monterrey. And I stopped to 'feel' that internal movement.

Ever since Monday when two little girls, daughters of Crystal's good friend, called me Noni I have felt this inner breeze. I do believe its joy.

Thanks, E.B.

2011-05-21T05:05:00.000-07:00

I arise in the morning torn between a desire to improve the world and a desire to enjoy the world. This makes it hard to plan the day.
E. B. White

I like this one. Sometimes the best way to thank God for what He has done is to enjoy it.

When my life is over I want...

2011-04-20T08:41:00.000-07:00

This is from a documentary from Sara Groves:

When my life is over I don't want my kids to have seen me hug the wall. I want them to have an unforgettable image of me running, with my head held back.

Nashville rhymes with so cool.

2011-04-09T13:32:00.000-07:00

It does if you pronounce it correctly, with the stress on the first syllable. Sort of.

Last night my little car pulled into our driveway after a long day on the road. I was tired but still feel a very strong satisfaction in having been able to see a recording wrapped up. After 6 days of being in the 'deep south' Crystal has 6 of her songs saved on her computer. Waiting for the project to be mastered is going to be hard! I want others to be able to hear what I heard.

Here is what it was like for the girls: Long hours of singing. Over and over again. Listening to different options and then singing some more. Andy Osenga's excellent ear and technical skills helping shape the songs. Lots and lots of laughing and conversations, but always getting back to work. Heading out twice a day to find a new place to eat. Meat and three is a great way to eat! Nebraska needs to try this! A hotel only 5 minutes from the studio so I could write. (I finished my story!) A tornado landed right downtown. I thought the midwest had the franchise on that. When you repeat the lyrics of a song, you notice the brilliance of those words. I got to do that every day. Crystal wrote songs from observing her life, and from describing how God is seen in every step of the journeys that make up her life. Getting to see sisters blend their voices. Watching Melissa work so hard to make the music better. She skillfully submitted her powerful voice to be smooth and harmonious.

My heart is full of gratitude.

words worth reading many times

2011-03-04T13:11:00.000-08:00

Tonight we are having a Literary Night. To the uninitiated, this is a time where we bake up some treats. Pour out some beverages. Set up some good reading lamps. Pull into a circle and read select portions to each other. 'Select' can be funny or deep or a well written Christmas letter. It can be a journal entry or a dear john letter. I swear we were moved to tears on those readings. We have roared through James Herriott, even while the reader was fallen over sideways, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes.

I often default to Mark Twain. Perhaps because you cannot match his cleverness or self-effacement. His honesty is like a tonic. Like this, from his newly published autobiography:

By my count I have been in the right mood for competently and exhaustively feeding my ancient grudges in the cases of only thirteen deserving persons. It makes good reading. whenever I go back and re-read those little biographies and characterizations it cheers me up, and I feel I have not lived in vain. The work was well done. The art of it is masterly. I admire it more and more every time I examine it. I do believe I have flayed and mangled and mutilated those poor people beyond the dreams of avarice.

But then there is Wangerin writing about someone who has recently found the love of his life:

Chauntecleer healed more quickly than anyone else. This was not just because he had so strong a constitution, one well able to knit even the most open wound. But this was also because his spirits were so high. He laughed enormously and often, these days. He talked much, and he would talk on any topic available, to anyone who asked a question. And Chauntecleer began to fancy himself a philosopher. He stared up and spoke grandly of God and of the ways of the Deity.He disclosed the hidden patterns of his effective rule. And most particularly he discoursed on beauty- female beauty - its attraction to the male. And he smiled in his sleep these nights, Chauntecleer did, because his dreams were all good. And he healed very quickly.

The value of a night like this, of course, is to be introduced to other authors. I have been delighted to read the whole book after hearing a short reading. And I have learned to avoid an author after just a brief sample. Sorry Cameron, but Pride and Prejudice and the Zombies didn't make the grade with me.

What's this about relief?

2011-02-27T15:54:00.001-08:00

What is it about relief and glad, glad news that makes it seem unnecessary to write? When I am deep into the weight of a struggle, I write to process my thoughts and my emotions about those thoughts. But when the struggle is over, when the weight is off, when the present view is so saweeeet, I do not need to write. I don't even want to.

So pushing against disinclination, here goes: I don't have to have any treatment for thyroid cancer this year. Maybe not even next year. I am free to put down things on the calendar that won't be squeezed around trips to Omaha. I am able to look ahead and smile. I am looking and smiling.

An Important Peace

2010-12-29T09:07:00.001-08:00

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

2010-12-24T01:30:00.001-08:00

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

2010-11-29T12:43:00.000-08:00

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

2010-11-19T10:13:00.001-08:00

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

2010-11-05T14:03:00.001-07:00

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

2010-10-07T11:37:00.001-07:00

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?

2010-09-26T15:36:00.000-07:00

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!

2010-09-09T01:27:00.000-07:00

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

2010-08-26T17:32:00.000-07:00

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.

2010-08-23T12:09:00.000-07:00

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

2010-08-21T11:59:00.000-07:00

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

2010-07-07T03:22:00.000-07:00

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

2010-06-15T18:27:00.000-07:00

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

2010-05-15T16:34:00.000-07:00

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.

2010-05-05T14:16:00.000-07:00

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!