A Deeper Family - A December I Do

We chose a Saturday afternoon at 3:30, the hand of the clock on the upswing during the ceremony. It was my mom and I who carefully and frugally planned the day, beginning with my dress, which was 'worn' for a bridal fashion show and cost $60.00. This was 1965 and my father was a junior college administrator, my mother, a homemaker; there was not a lot of extra cash for fancy parties. 

The church was an old, Gothic brownstone, one block from the library in Glendale, California. It was my family's church, Presbyterian, large and conservative. About 650 of our closest family and friends came striding down the aisles of that glorious old sanctuary to hear us say, "I do." That number was possible because people didn't 'do' dinners for wedding receptions in those days. It never occurred to us.

We offered wedding cake (baked by a neighbor), nuts in a cup, buttery mints, punch, coffee and tea. Homemade table decor graced rounds of eight, set up in the church gymnasium where we greeted our guests. . . all our guests. I don't think we ever ate a bite of cake, past the obligatory one for picture-taking. . .

To read the rest of our story, I invite you to join me at A Deeper Family today. I am so grateful to be writing in that space. . .

My Brother's Keeper . . . A Deeper Family

He was my brother, 

yet I did not know how to love him well.

Born two months before my 11th birthday, 

he was a beautiful baby, and a fussy one. 

Colic, they said. All I know is, 

I spent many evenings walking around 

our dining room in the dark, 

gently singing into his ear while he wailed in pain. 

This small person had two hernia surgeries 

before he turned two, a harbinger of tough times ahead.

He was a different sort of little boy, 

easy-going in some ways, 

stiff and overwhelmed in others. 

Terrified by sudden noise, 

his own voice was often uncomfortably loud. 

He was fidgety yet owned observational skills 

that would occasionally astound us. 

He saw details, lots and lots of details. 

But he so often completely missed the big picture.

Sadly, he never did find it . . .

I am writing about one of the saddest pieces 

of my own family story today, 

my younger brother's hard, hard life. 

And 1000 words cannot contain it. 

Will you join me over there for the rest of the story?

31 Days in which I Am Saved by Beauty - Day 24

Yesterday was an amazing day.
Startling, sometimes confusing,
interesting and humbling.
In the middle of this 31-day blogging craziness,
I put up this small post to tell you about an essay 
I wrote over at A Deeper Church.
In that brief post, I also urged you to 
read my friend Emily's post in which 
she asked some questions about the very
topic I was speaking about right next door to her.
The comment thread, especially on her essay,
was pretty overwhelming.

But here is what I feel about it,
late this night,
after spending about 14 of the last 36 hours 
in the car, driving up and down this
magnificently beautiful state of ours:

I feel profoundly grateful.
And humble.
I would happily wash Emily's feet,
and I believe she would do the same for me.
And that? THAT is a beautiful thing.

I slept last night in a retreat center in Burlingame, CA,
run by the Sisters of Mercy.
Our meeting room there contained about a dozen
magnificent prints by a Japanese artist from the 20th century
named Sadao Watanabe.
I tried to take photos of them all,
but a few of them showed too much reflection from
the hideous (why oh why??) florescent lighting.
These two, however, are perfect.

Two different interpretations 

of the same seminal event

in the life and ministry of our Lord, 

     our Savior, 

          our Christ.

Jesus - the Son of God,

the Creator of the universe,

the only fully Human Being who ever walked

the dusty roads of this globe -

washing the feet of his disciples.

And then telling us to do the same for one another. 

THIS is who we are, dear friends. 

We are the ones who follow Jesus.

We are the ones who share in the bread and cup.

And we are the ones who wash one another's feet.
Whether we agree with one another on every doctrine or not.
Whether we work at home or outside the home.
Whether we homeschool our kids or send them to school
Whether we even like each other or not! 

We are the ones who wash each other's feet.

And that - 
     because Jesus did it,
          because Jesus 
               continues to do it through each of us - 

that is BEAUTY. 

Humbly joining with Michelle, Jen, Jennifer, Ann, Duane, and OF COURSE, Emily:

The Mystery of Faith...

There are days when I think that God has an

interesting sense of humor.

Today is one of those days.

I am writing in another space today,

and I want to invite you to click over there to check it out. 

This link will take to you A Deeper Church,

where I write today about the very center

of my call as a pastor.

And, in a way, for me,

it all comes down to one question:

What are you going to do with me?

Maybe I'm oversimplifying,

but somehow, I don't think so.

Because if you struggle with the issue of women

in ministry, at some point you're going to

have to do that struggling with a real-life,

flesh and blood, Jesus-loving, Jesus-following human person.

Please click over and see what I mean, okay?

And while you're doing that,

I also want to encourage you to read

Emily Wierenga's thoughtful post at my 'home base' channel 

at the Deeper Story site, A Deeper Family.

She and I are at very different places on this particular journey. 

Yet I can honestly say that I love her very much, 

I respect her opinion and I welcome her voice.

I trust and I hope that she can say the same about me.

The comment sections at both places are very interesting 

and hopeful to me. If we can keep a civil conversation going,

loving each other, even when we land at different places,

then there is indeed real hope for the Kingdom moving forward.

Do you know what I think?

I think that our amazing God is doing some very wonderful things 

through the vehicle of the internet.

My friend, Deidra Riggs, is following God's call into the fray by writing and inviting conversation about what it's like to live 'in her brown skin.'

And she has offered grace to all of us awkward speakers, inviting us to share our experiences and our ideas and our points of struggle. My prayer is that the discussion underway at her site and at the various channels at A Deeper Story can be heartfelt, honest, hopeful and welcoming - even when we disagree.

Can I hear an amen??

The Long Unraveling: A Deeper Family

My husband as a newborn with his beautiful mother.

Today is my day to post over at A Deeper Family.

It is such a privilege to write in this space,

where honesty is encouraged,

and going deeper is invited.

You can click this sentence to finish reading in that space...

The tension in the car is thick enough to choke on. My husband begins his litany of things-wrong-with-the-world, something he’s been doing with alarming frequency of late. It makes me tired. Long, loud sighs begin to whoosh from deep inside, as I sit next to him, at my perch behind the steering wheel. Finally, I decide to face into it more directly and ask, with the tiniest hint of superiority, “Can you tell me one thing you’re grateful for right now? Just one? All this negativity is exhausting.”

Silence.

We pull into the underground parking at the health facility where his mother now lives. She is 96-years-old, very frail, fading away like a mirage on a desert highway.

And this is the truth of it: we are waiting for her to die. There it is, in the harsh light of day, like brown, barren sticks in wintertime - we are waiting for her to die.

Perhaps that explains the litany, the sighs.

Twice each week, we make the 20-minute drive across town to sit with her at lunch, watching her not eat. Some days, we rouse her from a deep, gasping sleep. Some days, she is already awake. Always, we get the walker from across the room, remind her how to stand up, gently comb her hair and very slowly walk with her down the hall to the dining room. . . 

Please follow this link to read the entire piece at A Deeper Family. Thanks so much.