Dear friends,
I think you will find this post a bit boring. But thankfully, it will be short too! I am very tired, and Stephen and I are about to sit with our 2 older kids and watch Back to the Future.
I love the concept of time travel. Wouldn't it be wonderful if in real life, we could go back in time and see things like Jesus being born, or the pilgrims landing at Plymouth Rock, or the signing of the Declaration of Independence? What if we could stop the Hindenburg from taking off or the spark that started the Great Chicago Fire, or the planes that departed from Logan Airport on September 11, 2001? In our little lives, what if Stephen and Hannah had left the house 5 minutes later on November 8? Two of my favorite novels in the world involve time travel, both by author Connie Willis: To Say Nothing of the Dog (comedy), The Doomsday Book (drama). They are both magnificent, and yes, pure fiction.
Alas, time travel is fantasy. In the thick of reality there is only one direction in which to move - forward. The Great One plants us on this earth, and according to scripture "sets the exact times and places where we should live", and bids us take our place and press ahead on the pilgrim road. There may be twists and turns, but time, that mortal taskmaster, is ever pushing us in the forward direction. We can't go back. So instead of the option to change what was, He gives mercy and forgiveness for what has been, and strength and grace for whatever will be. This is my sweet hope.
Hats off today to the One and Only, who set the times of our lives in America the Beautiful, the land of the free and the home of the brave. He joyfully placed us in a nation soaked with the prayers of hundreds of years for truth, liberty and the rule of law. A place where justice, not power, would reign supreme. We have strayed from our lofty principals, but their rock solid foundation still lives in our hearts today. "If we humble ourselves, and seek His face, and turn from our wicked ways, He will hear from heaven and forgive our sins and heal our land." Happy Independence Day, dear friends!
Thanks to Judy the Good and Mark the Lion Hearted for some treasured time together. Those two folks fielded hundreds of phone calls, and worked harder that one-armed paper hangers (along with many others!) when we were in the thick of disaster. We'll never be able to adequately thank any of you. But we sure will try!
Can't wait for the loud bangs and booms of the fireworks. Might as well enjoy them tonite, because there is no rewind to this day. Ever. Live it.
Your friend on the pilgrim road,
Loriann
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Saturday, July 3, 2010
Day 236 The Story's theThing
Dear friends,
My favorite professor at NYU, Mark Dickerman, told us from day one in Dramatic Writing class those many years ago: the story is everything. No matter what fabulous actors you employ, or the quality of the special effects, or the crazy budgets you have at your fingertips, it's all washed up without a great story. The nuts and bolts of character and plot put together with skill and creativity can tell us more about our world and ourselves than any lecture or newspaper column. I love a good story.
Tonite Smitty and I took to the big screen and saw Toy Story 3. The last movie we saw together at the theatre was Star Trek, and that was last spring. We tried to watch a movie at home last night, slogged through some of it, and at last to the great relief of us both, we turned the thing off.
Toy Story 3 was a beautiful movie. In the final analysis, it's about relationships. Friendship. Sacrifice. Love. Yes, it's only a "cartoon". But a good story can live in any venue. Because we see truth in a good story. And in the best stories, we catch the reflection of the Great Drama of which we are all a part.
The Great One is The Storyteller, but He's also in the Great Drama. It would be like an author of your favorite book actually stepping into the story from outside of it. Kind of hard to get your head around that one, isn't it? The Lord of all has a story line, but His part of it involves to some degree Him handing over the pen to us to write as we choose. Still, the book belongs to Him. And there it is again - the wild mystery of the crossroads of the sovereignty of God and the free will of man. There hasn't been a person alive yet who can untangle that one. When we read or see a story that touches the wonder, the mystery, the pathos, the glory of life, we get that tug of truth that is so satisfying. The creator made us creators. He speaks to us through nature and preachers and the bible...and also through art and music and fairy tales. He is all, and is in all.
Tired tonite. Got my big boy home from Alaska and sent my little boy off to camp in the Adirondacks. Had a good cry today about Smitty and the cane, and now I'm fine. Just need some sleep. Lately it feels like I'll never catch up. No doubt the fireworks won't help on that front. That's ok. I'm long past the point of demanding everything go my way... I just dozed off while typing so I guess that's my que to exit, stage left (as Snagglepuss used to say...)
Live your story for all you're worth, friends.
Your friend on the pilgrim road,
Loriann
BTW, finally finished all 3 "Lord of the Rings" books (fabulous). I think Huckleberry Finn is next!
My favorite professor at NYU, Mark Dickerman, told us from day one in Dramatic Writing class those many years ago: the story is everything. No matter what fabulous actors you employ, or the quality of the special effects, or the crazy budgets you have at your fingertips, it's all washed up without a great story. The nuts and bolts of character and plot put together with skill and creativity can tell us more about our world and ourselves than any lecture or newspaper column. I love a good story.
Tonite Smitty and I took to the big screen and saw Toy Story 3. The last movie we saw together at the theatre was Star Trek, and that was last spring. We tried to watch a movie at home last night, slogged through some of it, and at last to the great relief of us both, we turned the thing off.
Toy Story 3 was a beautiful movie. In the final analysis, it's about relationships. Friendship. Sacrifice. Love. Yes, it's only a "cartoon". But a good story can live in any venue. Because we see truth in a good story. And in the best stories, we catch the reflection of the Great Drama of which we are all a part.
The Great One is The Storyteller, but He's also in the Great Drama. It would be like an author of your favorite book actually stepping into the story from outside of it. Kind of hard to get your head around that one, isn't it? The Lord of all has a story line, but His part of it involves to some degree Him handing over the pen to us to write as we choose. Still, the book belongs to Him. And there it is again - the wild mystery of the crossroads of the sovereignty of God and the free will of man. There hasn't been a person alive yet who can untangle that one. When we read or see a story that touches the wonder, the mystery, the pathos, the glory of life, we get that tug of truth that is so satisfying. The creator made us creators. He speaks to us through nature and preachers and the bible...and also through art and music and fairy tales. He is all, and is in all.
Tired tonite. Got my big boy home from Alaska and sent my little boy off to camp in the Adirondacks. Had a good cry today about Smitty and the cane, and now I'm fine. Just need some sleep. Lately it feels like I'll never catch up. No doubt the fireworks won't help on that front. That's ok. I'm long past the point of demanding everything go my way... I just dozed off while typing so I guess that's my que to exit, stage left (as Snagglepuss used to say...)
Live your story for all you're worth, friends.
Your friend on the pilgrim road,
Loriann
BTW, finally finished all 3 "Lord of the Rings" books (fabulous). I think Huckleberry Finn is next!
Friday, July 2, 2010
Day 235 Founding Fathers and Finding Our Way
Dear friends,
"A government of laws, and not of men."
John Adams
The news is riddled with stories of people who have lost their way. Stabbings, shootings, DWI, money laundering, affairs, theft, etc... In the realm of law, imperfect though it is, the Big Idea of America is the story of equal justice. The wealthy, in theory, are held to the same standard as the poor. The powerful and the weak must both stand before an impartial judge to be sentenced for their crime. Clearly in a fallen world, this system is deeply flawed. But isn't it interesting that somewhere inside us we understand the rightness of this type of justice. Justice is built in to the DNA of human beings. We may twist it, we may try to bend it for our own gain, but down where we really live we know it to be right. And thanks to the courage and tenacity of a rag tag group of brilliant, though flawed men (many of whom wore white wigs - what's up with that?) we have a nation standing on the shoulders of law, and not the whim of some crazy king.
The Great One is way ahead of us on this point. He told Israel they would be better off without a king, that a king would most assuredly go south and cause them no end of grief. He pleaded with them through the prophet Samuel to be governed by Him alone, but they wouldn't have it. And thus began the roller coaster ride of rotten kings and decent kings, but even the good ones had their Achilles heel. A just God won't even break his own law and violate the free will of man, no matter how stupid that man may be.
Anyway, when I consider the law, and how many have fought tirelessly for justice, I am humbled. I know it wasn't long ago that drunk drivers who injured or killed other people would receive a stern talking to, if that, and no jail time. Until finally some folks got their gumption up and said "enough". They, like our forefathers, spent their money, time and "sacred honor" to make the wrong, right. I love this country. I know it's a mess, but it's home. And there's no where else I want to live on this screwy, spinning ball. When I think of the men and women all over the world laying down all they are to keep us safe and free, I am flattened. May the Great One honor them, and may we remember them in our prayers all the time.
So today I am thinking of, and praying for Oscar Lewis. He has been in prison for 2 months. It is right and just that he should be there. This is, after all, a government of laws, and not of men. But don't think for one moment I feel glad about the fate of this poor soul. More than anything, I continue to hope for his redemption, and that the Great One will show His matchless grace to Oscar. Earthbound folk need laws, or sin would terrorize us in utter darkness. But the kingdom of heaven is about something even greater than the law: the power of grace. The law of God is good, but the law of Love is His highest law, trumping all others. Justice and mercy come together at the cross. Good thing for me. Good thing for all who break the moral code. That just about covers everyone...
Enjoy the fireworks! Enjoy the picnics! Remember those who made and are making it possible for you and I to live in peace. And as The Book says, "remember those in prison, as if you yourself were there..."
God Bless you all! And God Bless the USA!
Your friend on the pilgrim road,
Loriann
"A government of laws, and not of men."
John Adams
The news is riddled with stories of people who have lost their way. Stabbings, shootings, DWI, money laundering, affairs, theft, etc... In the realm of law, imperfect though it is, the Big Idea of America is the story of equal justice. The wealthy, in theory, are held to the same standard as the poor. The powerful and the weak must both stand before an impartial judge to be sentenced for their crime. Clearly in a fallen world, this system is deeply flawed. But isn't it interesting that somewhere inside us we understand the rightness of this type of justice. Justice is built in to the DNA of human beings. We may twist it, we may try to bend it for our own gain, but down where we really live we know it to be right. And thanks to the courage and tenacity of a rag tag group of brilliant, though flawed men (many of whom wore white wigs - what's up with that?) we have a nation standing on the shoulders of law, and not the whim of some crazy king.
The Great One is way ahead of us on this point. He told Israel they would be better off without a king, that a king would most assuredly go south and cause them no end of grief. He pleaded with them through the prophet Samuel to be governed by Him alone, but they wouldn't have it. And thus began the roller coaster ride of rotten kings and decent kings, but even the good ones had their Achilles heel. A just God won't even break his own law and violate the free will of man, no matter how stupid that man may be.
Anyway, when I consider the law, and how many have fought tirelessly for justice, I am humbled. I know it wasn't long ago that drunk drivers who injured or killed other people would receive a stern talking to, if that, and no jail time. Until finally some folks got their gumption up and said "enough". They, like our forefathers, spent their money, time and "sacred honor" to make the wrong, right. I love this country. I know it's a mess, but it's home. And there's no where else I want to live on this screwy, spinning ball. When I think of the men and women all over the world laying down all they are to keep us safe and free, I am flattened. May the Great One honor them, and may we remember them in our prayers all the time.
So today I am thinking of, and praying for Oscar Lewis. He has been in prison for 2 months. It is right and just that he should be there. This is, after all, a government of laws, and not of men. But don't think for one moment I feel glad about the fate of this poor soul. More than anything, I continue to hope for his redemption, and that the Great One will show His matchless grace to Oscar. Earthbound folk need laws, or sin would terrorize us in utter darkness. But the kingdom of heaven is about something even greater than the law: the power of grace. The law of God is good, but the law of Love is His highest law, trumping all others. Justice and mercy come together at the cross. Good thing for me. Good thing for all who break the moral code. That just about covers everyone...
Enjoy the fireworks! Enjoy the picnics! Remember those who made and are making it possible for you and I to live in peace. And as The Book says, "remember those in prison, as if you yourself were there..."
God Bless you all! And God Bless the USA!
Your friend on the pilgrim road,
Loriann
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Day 234 Stretching the Elbow, Living the Truth
Dear friends,
"In theory there is no difference between theory and practice. In practice there is." Yogi Berra
Don’t you love Yogi Berra? Some of the things that have come out of his mouth have been American classics. The above quote is not only funny, it’s profound. How true it is! I can write about how important relationships are, but I’ve got to pick up the phone, have the lunch, write the note, help with the homework, make the time. This blog has been a great barometer of my own hypocrisy. I can tell the truth (theory), but can I live the truth (practice)? The answer is, sometimes yes, sometimes no.
There’s a huge difference between writing on my schedule “go to the gym”, and actually getting on the machine (whatever they call that one that brings your knees up really high and burns 600 calories per hour) to do the work. The theory of a beautiful garden and the reality of pulling up weeds are miles apart. (If you wish to see that played out, compare my yard to Joan the Gardener’s). Theory is flour, sugar and other stuff. Practice is stirring, mixing, baking and eventually eating one of Sister Laurie’s carrot cakes.
And regarding the really meaty matters of life, theory is “those people need someone to blot out their transgressions so they can live forever with a holy God”. Practice is a perfect God/Man bruised, bleeding and dying the death the sinner deserves. Thanks be to the Great One, who is no theorist, but a practitioner!
Stephen has gained a little bit of range of motion in his shoulder. His flexion has increased slightly too in the elbow, but the gain in extension is yet to be seen. We’re not sure how much more he’s going to get at this point. We talked a little about when the time comes for acceptance, and when it is necessary to keep fighting for more. I think it’s difficult for him to think this might be about all he’s going to get. Anyway, there is certainly no accounting for miracles. Of all people, we get that. Not to mention Dr. Rosati’s words to me at the very beginning “It will take a full year to approach the new normal.” We won’t even hit the 8 month mark until next week. Steve will see Dr. Bagchi on Wednesday, and hopefully get permission to go swimming, what with the temperature heading toward the 90’s. But as Yogi Berra says, “It ain’t the heat, it’s the humility.”
I still don’t have the final date for the Smith Family Thanks You Dessert Night, but it will either be October 16th or 23rd. Please, please block those dates till we get the final one. We’ll have some music, and some words (no long, boring speeches), and some wonderful yummies. You can meet some of the other bloggies, and first responders, nurses, friends etc.. Besides, it would give us great joy to say thank you in person!
On that note, I leave you with one last Yogi Berra quote:
"You should always go to other people's funerals, otherwise, they won't come to yours."
Your friend on the pilgrim road,
Loriann
"In theory there is no difference between theory and practice. In practice there is." Yogi Berra
Don’t you love Yogi Berra? Some of the things that have come out of his mouth have been American classics. The above quote is not only funny, it’s profound. How true it is! I can write about how important relationships are, but I’ve got to pick up the phone, have the lunch, write the note, help with the homework, make the time. This blog has been a great barometer of my own hypocrisy. I can tell the truth (theory), but can I live the truth (practice)? The answer is, sometimes yes, sometimes no.
There’s a huge difference between writing on my schedule “go to the gym”, and actually getting on the machine (whatever they call that one that brings your knees up really high and burns 600 calories per hour) to do the work. The theory of a beautiful garden and the reality of pulling up weeds are miles apart. (If you wish to see that played out, compare my yard to Joan the Gardener’s). Theory is flour, sugar and other stuff. Practice is stirring, mixing, baking and eventually eating one of Sister Laurie’s carrot cakes.
And regarding the really meaty matters of life, theory is “those people need someone to blot out their transgressions so they can live forever with a holy God”. Practice is a perfect God/Man bruised, bleeding and dying the death the sinner deserves. Thanks be to the Great One, who is no theorist, but a practitioner!
Stephen has gained a little bit of range of motion in his shoulder. His flexion has increased slightly too in the elbow, but the gain in extension is yet to be seen. We’re not sure how much more he’s going to get at this point. We talked a little about when the time comes for acceptance, and when it is necessary to keep fighting for more. I think it’s difficult for him to think this might be about all he’s going to get. Anyway, there is certainly no accounting for miracles. Of all people, we get that. Not to mention Dr. Rosati’s words to me at the very beginning “It will take a full year to approach the new normal.” We won’t even hit the 8 month mark until next week. Steve will see Dr. Bagchi on Wednesday, and hopefully get permission to go swimming, what with the temperature heading toward the 90’s. But as Yogi Berra says, “It ain’t the heat, it’s the humility.”
I still don’t have the final date for the Smith Family Thanks You Dessert Night, but it will either be October 16th or 23rd. Please, please block those dates till we get the final one. We’ll have some music, and some words (no long, boring speeches), and some wonderful yummies. You can meet some of the other bloggies, and first responders, nurses, friends etc.. Besides, it would give us great joy to say thank you in person!
On that note, I leave you with one last Yogi Berra quote:
"You should always go to other people's funerals, otherwise, they won't come to yours."
Your friend on the pilgrim road,
Loriann
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Day 233 The Music of Recovery, The Sounds of Grace
Dear friends,
Sounds can be sweet.
Miss Rejoice is upstairs with Miss Lauren and Miss Becky, and they are doing what they love to do: SING! Hannah came down for snacks, muttering something about "double high C in her gut voice". (I may have that all wrong, but that's what it sounded like). To hear that child sing when I ponder what could have been, and when I think of those precious children at Sunnyview still struggling to speak after a brain injury, I am both grateful and sad. Sad for the parents whose uphill climb has been so much steeper than mine, grateful for the continuing recovery of my one and only daughter, a treasure so valuable it defies description. For all the tears I have shed, I have been spared many more. While Hannah keeps trekking her pilgrim road, I keep finding deeper levels of wonder, and I am truly humbled by the mercy of the Lover of our souls.
The other thing I'm hearing is Smitty chattering away with his momma on the telephone. Every night they speak, friends, every night since Stephen woke up, 8 days after the car crash. Of course in some of those earlier conversations, Hercules was a bit muddled. Like when he told me he was "going to come home tonite, but I couldn't reach you on the cell phone, and then it was really late...". I had to remind him that he had 2 broken legs so he wouldn't be going anywhere for awhile. It was actually very funny!
I can also hear the dishwasher swishing away. (It's an old dishwasher, and pretty noisy). It's music to my ears, though, because Stephen is back to his regular job of loading the thing. (He's happy too, and if you want to know why, ask him his opinion of my dishwasher stacking...) It wasn't so long ago he was in the wheelchair, with the fixator - I'm sorry, the BLASTED fixator. He even tried to do work in the kitchen with that thing on, God bless him.
Sounds. The cat purring on my chest while I write. The keys under my fingers, reminding me of the sweet communication I have had with all of you lo these many months. The crickets outside the window of my lovely Adirondack bedroom, a gift of love that reminds me daily of the outstanding folks who stood with us, indeed who continue to do so. (Fab Phyllis, the blinds are so perfect, and the curtains too! And brother Jim, we remember your long treks to Sunnyview. Thank you, thank you). The bathroom door closing, a wide door put in by Tom Terrific when Smitty was hopping about on that crazy walker. So many faces, so many names, so many blessings. The Great One sometimes brings us back to bring us forward. Wow. I will never forget the orchestra of love played out by countless instruments. The sound was like a heavenly choir. And the echo will be with me all my life.
Your friend on the pilgrim road,
Loriann
Sounds can be sweet.
Miss Rejoice is upstairs with Miss Lauren and Miss Becky, and they are doing what they love to do: SING! Hannah came down for snacks, muttering something about "double high C in her gut voice". (I may have that all wrong, but that's what it sounded like). To hear that child sing when I ponder what could have been, and when I think of those precious children at Sunnyview still struggling to speak after a brain injury, I am both grateful and sad. Sad for the parents whose uphill climb has been so much steeper than mine, grateful for the continuing recovery of my one and only daughter, a treasure so valuable it defies description. For all the tears I have shed, I have been spared many more. While Hannah keeps trekking her pilgrim road, I keep finding deeper levels of wonder, and I am truly humbled by the mercy of the Lover of our souls.
The other thing I'm hearing is Smitty chattering away with his momma on the telephone. Every night they speak, friends, every night since Stephen woke up, 8 days after the car crash. Of course in some of those earlier conversations, Hercules was a bit muddled. Like when he told me he was "going to come home tonite, but I couldn't reach you on the cell phone, and then it was really late...". I had to remind him that he had 2 broken legs so he wouldn't be going anywhere for awhile. It was actually very funny!
I can also hear the dishwasher swishing away. (It's an old dishwasher, and pretty noisy). It's music to my ears, though, because Stephen is back to his regular job of loading the thing. (He's happy too, and if you want to know why, ask him his opinion of my dishwasher stacking...) It wasn't so long ago he was in the wheelchair, with the fixator - I'm sorry, the BLASTED fixator. He even tried to do work in the kitchen with that thing on, God bless him.
Sounds. The cat purring on my chest while I write. The keys under my fingers, reminding me of the sweet communication I have had with all of you lo these many months. The crickets outside the window of my lovely Adirondack bedroom, a gift of love that reminds me daily of the outstanding folks who stood with us, indeed who continue to do so. (Fab Phyllis, the blinds are so perfect, and the curtains too! And brother Jim, we remember your long treks to Sunnyview. Thank you, thank you). The bathroom door closing, a wide door put in by Tom Terrific when Smitty was hopping about on that crazy walker. So many faces, so many names, so many blessings. The Great One sometimes brings us back to bring us forward. Wow. I will never forget the orchestra of love played out by countless instruments. The sound was like a heavenly choir. And the echo will be with me all my life.
Your friend on the pilgrim road,
Loriann
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Day 232 Passing By Ourselves Without Wondering
“Men go abroad to wonder at the heights of mountains, at the huge waves of the sea, at the long courses of the rivers, at the vast compass of the ocean, at the circular motions of the stars, and they pass by themselves without wondering.” Saint Augustine
After yesterday’s blog where I blathered about the problem of pride and encouraged us to not think too much about ourselves, I pondered the balance of that point of view. And that is this: One could pass through this physical experience and never listen to the proddings of their inner man to see more than meets the eye. And that would be a colossal tragedy. Because after all, we’re here for 5 minutes, and then eternity. My dear husband, who has considered and concerned himself with the invisible reality of his life, was up against the real and present possibility of stepping into that sphere on November 8. Now if you know Stephen, you know he is not a sour, introspective Pharisee. On the contrary, I know few men with more mirth and contentment than him. But he is sober in matters that one should be sober about. Sober meaning thoughtful and serious in his awe and respect for the Master of the Universe. He has need of a Savior, and he knows it. He lives the reality of a walk with Jesus Christ every day. Not perfectly, not without stumbling. But with a resolute heart. I think even more so now, having taken a nap with death, but not falling asleep altogether. Anyway, I wanted to get that on the table, lest anyone think self-evaluation is always a bad thing. It’s not, and Augustine puts it so much more perfectly than I ever could.
Joseph called us from Alaska, and I could hear in his voice the inspiration he is experiencing seeing the young, steep, jagged mountains and the icy glaciers of the Far Northwest . I’m expecting a new song when he gets home. He brought his ukulele with him, and no doubt he is regaling the other teens on the ship with his Tiny Timism’s. (I’m quite sure he has no idea who Tiny Tim is, and most probably neither do some of you young bloggies). His little brother is champing at the bit to see his hero, and they will get just a short visit. David leaves for camp on Saturday, his first time away from home without us ever. Yikes. Double Yikes.
Once again looking for your prayers for a dear member of DFG who has had a stroke. So suddenly, life can change. Don’t pass by yourself without wondering. The Great One is always speaking, always looking for a relationship with us. We’ve just got to get out of the noise so we can hear. (Once again, I speak to myself!) Way better to do it before we’re flat on our backs.
Your friend on the pilgrim road,
Loriann
After yesterday’s blog where I blathered about the problem of pride and encouraged us to not think too much about ourselves, I pondered the balance of that point of view. And that is this: One could pass through this physical experience and never listen to the proddings of their inner man to see more than meets the eye. And that would be a colossal tragedy. Because after all, we’re here for 5 minutes, and then eternity. My dear husband, who has considered and concerned himself with the invisible reality of his life, was up against the real and present possibility of stepping into that sphere on November 8. Now if you know Stephen, you know he is not a sour, introspective Pharisee. On the contrary, I know few men with more mirth and contentment than him. But he is sober in matters that one should be sober about. Sober meaning thoughtful and serious in his awe and respect for the Master of the Universe. He has need of a Savior, and he knows it. He lives the reality of a walk with Jesus Christ every day. Not perfectly, not without stumbling. But with a resolute heart. I think even more so now, having taken a nap with death, but not falling asleep altogether. Anyway, I wanted to get that on the table, lest anyone think self-evaluation is always a bad thing. It’s not, and Augustine puts it so much more perfectly than I ever could.
Joseph called us from Alaska, and I could hear in his voice the inspiration he is experiencing seeing the young, steep, jagged mountains and the icy glaciers of the Far Northwest . I’m expecting a new song when he gets home. He brought his ukulele with him, and no doubt he is regaling the other teens on the ship with his Tiny Timism’s. (I’m quite sure he has no idea who Tiny Tim is, and most probably neither do some of you young bloggies). His little brother is champing at the bit to see his hero, and they will get just a short visit. David leaves for camp on Saturday, his first time away from home without us ever. Yikes. Double Yikes.
Once again looking for your prayers for a dear member of DFG who has had a stroke. So suddenly, life can change. Don’t pass by yourself without wondering. The Great One is always speaking, always looking for a relationship with us. We’ve just got to get out of the noise so we can hear. (Once again, I speak to myself!) Way better to do it before we’re flat on our backs.
Your friend on the pilgrim road,
Loriann
Monday, June 28, 2010
Day 231 The Downfall of Saul Looks for All
Dear friends,
Domino is trying to climb on the laptop while I write to you this evening. Her sharp little kitten claws are digging in to my legs, and she keeps hopping up and tickling my neck with her whiskers. She wants my attention. Undivided. I guess it's all about relationship even when you're a cat. Of course the motives are different, but the same outcome is desired. We're looking for some love. Still, one must remember that perfect quote regarding felines:
"Dogs have owners. Cats have staff".
Ain't it the truth.
I thought I'd tell you about one of my greatest fears. I was reminded of it while reading the biblical story of Saul, Israel's first king. More than any personal tragedy, (though the thought of another car accident does give me pause), more than financial loss or disease or death, I tremble at the threat of becoming proud. Now I know I have committed this foulest of sins more than once. But to have it become part of my character, and worse, to be blind to the thing, that would be the worst darkness imaginable.
Saul started out a humble man. In fact when I read the account today of how Samuel was in town to anoint Saul king, I noticed for the first time ever (having read the story more than once), that Saul actually hid in a pile of luggage to avoid being noticed. It was a very long descent from his comment to Samuel about his being from the smallest of Israel's tribes, to his arrogant attitude years later of keeping back some spoils God specifically told him to leave alone, and taking his anger out unrighteously on a young David. I have seen the mighty fall too, here in the 21st century. And I am far too aware of my own capacity to "think more highly of myself than I ought" or to practice the other side of pride, thinking too little of myself. Best not to think about ourselves much at all. Best to be grateful for our blessings and talents, and to celebrate those of others, and simply go about the business the Great One gives us to do. Anyway, that's what I'm thinking about today. Arrogance is one ugly sucker. And it chills me to the bone.
My darling Smitty is sporting summer clothes. Talk about no arrogance, the man couldn't care less that his legs are, well, unattractive. I smile, though, seeing how beautifully that skin graft is healing, and I take pride (I think the right kind, not the ugly kind) in knowing I helped a little bit to keep that leg in one piece. Most of the credit goes to Dr. Bagchi, and all of it ultimately goes to the One and Only, who works the molecules and antibodies in the inspiring way He set up the healing process. May He be forever and ever praised!
Hannah has a piece of glass emerging from her hand. This could continue to happen for years to come. Some days the 8th of November is as fresh as the sound of the helicopter on the roof I still hear at the hospital from time to time. There's no running away from the process, there is only going through. Remember when Sister Laurie said "If this mountain won't be moved, we're going over it". With all of you, we have, we are, and we will. The glass is working it's way out. And so are we.
Domino is now purring in my ear, and making another attempt to hit the delete key before I finish. But I still have a much larger brain than her, and I think I can still outwit the adorable little thing. Though she will certainly take all money in the chipmunk catching contest...
Your friend on the pilgrim road,
Loriann
Domino is trying to climb on the laptop while I write to you this evening. Her sharp little kitten claws are digging in to my legs, and she keeps hopping up and tickling my neck with her whiskers. She wants my attention. Undivided. I guess it's all about relationship even when you're a cat. Of course the motives are different, but the same outcome is desired. We're looking for some love. Still, one must remember that perfect quote regarding felines:
"Dogs have owners. Cats have staff".
Ain't it the truth.
I thought I'd tell you about one of my greatest fears. I was reminded of it while reading the biblical story of Saul, Israel's first king. More than any personal tragedy, (though the thought of another car accident does give me pause), more than financial loss or disease or death, I tremble at the threat of becoming proud. Now I know I have committed this foulest of sins more than once. But to have it become part of my character, and worse, to be blind to the thing, that would be the worst darkness imaginable.
Saul started out a humble man. In fact when I read the account today of how Samuel was in town to anoint Saul king, I noticed for the first time ever (having read the story more than once), that Saul actually hid in a pile of luggage to avoid being noticed. It was a very long descent from his comment to Samuel about his being from the smallest of Israel's tribes, to his arrogant attitude years later of keeping back some spoils God specifically told him to leave alone, and taking his anger out unrighteously on a young David. I have seen the mighty fall too, here in the 21st century. And I am far too aware of my own capacity to "think more highly of myself than I ought" or to practice the other side of pride, thinking too little of myself. Best not to think about ourselves much at all. Best to be grateful for our blessings and talents, and to celebrate those of others, and simply go about the business the Great One gives us to do. Anyway, that's what I'm thinking about today. Arrogance is one ugly sucker. And it chills me to the bone.
My darling Smitty is sporting summer clothes. Talk about no arrogance, the man couldn't care less that his legs are, well, unattractive. I smile, though, seeing how beautifully that skin graft is healing, and I take pride (I think the right kind, not the ugly kind) in knowing I helped a little bit to keep that leg in one piece. Most of the credit goes to Dr. Bagchi, and all of it ultimately goes to the One and Only, who works the molecules and antibodies in the inspiring way He set up the healing process. May He be forever and ever praised!
Hannah has a piece of glass emerging from her hand. This could continue to happen for years to come. Some days the 8th of November is as fresh as the sound of the helicopter on the roof I still hear at the hospital from time to time. There's no running away from the process, there is only going through. Remember when Sister Laurie said "If this mountain won't be moved, we're going over it". With all of you, we have, we are, and we will. The glass is working it's way out. And so are we.
Domino is now purring in my ear, and making another attempt to hit the delete key before I finish. But I still have a much larger brain than her, and I think I can still outwit the adorable little thing. Though she will certainly take all money in the chipmunk catching contest...
Your friend on the pilgrim road,
Loriann
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