Moments . . .

I'm realizing just how important and significant they can be.  Have you ever noticed that?

That in a MOMENT everything can be defined for you . . .

That in a MOMENT clarity may be re-formed or obliterated . . .

That MOMENTS capture our imagination . . . and form our beliefs . . .

When we were younger, we were described as "having a MOMENT", much to the chagrin to whomever was around us at the time.

When we need a break , we may ask for a MOMENT.

When we want to speak to someone, we ask for a MOMENT of their time and attention.

MOMENTS provide us with so much , and yet,

we seem to disregard them so often.

How often has the MOMENT passed?

How much to you reach back for that MOMENT again?

It is like a breeze that brushes past you . . . one that you felt . . . you knew . . . but is gone, to no longer be captured again.

What about this MOMENT right now?  What will it bring to your heart and life?

I have friends who live in beautiful areas.  They capture that beauty from time to time in pictures and words and I'm drawn in.   I'm in the picture . . . I'm in that moment . . . beauty over takes me . . . something within is stirred.

Hope arises and believes . . .

and then again . . . other moments steal away hopes, beliefs, dreams.  They are moments that are stamped and seared onto the fabric of our minds and the canvas of our hearts.  Split seconds of time and images that, in those moments, swallow us away and we no longer can see the beauty.

Oh, by all means, we so want to !!

But in that second . . . . maybe it was an event . . . a look . . . an event . . . a word . . .  but in that second , a filter is somehow imposed over our essence and all that is and is before us, simply sucks the wind from our lungs, our bones , our drive, and our hearts.

That moment has seemed to define everything around us . . .

What are we to believe now?

That is what death and grief has done in these past months of my life.   And I've heard all the well wishers  (some pretenders , many though are genuine) , who don't understand your moment and try to force you out of that moment . . . they shrug their shoulders and wag their tongues . . . but no invitation to beauty only the false charade of self-management techniques.

But only another MOMENT will do it . . .

and we know it . . .

It may be in a picture again . . . or their words . . . one who is present enough within themselves to sit within you . . . and belief and hope for you . . .

"In a MOMENT . . . in the twinkling of an EYE . . .  with a VOICE . . . "  , one writer proposes that hope will arrive . . . but maybe there is a pattern there to healing too . . .

Someone there . . . in that MOMENT . . . one who SEES . . . with love's glimmer . . . whose VOICE stirs life again . . .

Hope and longing stirs for that . . . for them . . .

Freedom ! or ?

So, tonight as I sit here I wonder about "Freedom" . . . 

There is so much rhetoric spinning around, it is so easy to get knocked off balance by a thousand different things floating past us in lightning speed.  The "independent" spirit of our country, which having grown up in a military home, is so very dear to my heart!  I am so thankful, as I sit here, to the dozens of friends that are serving in the military around this world.  I pray for your protection . . . I pray for your families back home . . . I pray for the mystery of grace to be overwhelmingly bountiful to overshadow the loss and emptiness that these days bring to all of you.   So much of what I enjoy costs others everything . . . I'm humbled . . . I'm indebted to their love and sacrifice.

I also have been re-visisted by the freedom of life and friendship.  I have a dear friend, who just kissed goodbye to a dear beloved loved one as she slipped into the embrace of eternity's joy and love.  It stirred my own echoes of loss again . . . a place that continues to not sit well within the pit of my stomach.   A haunting that continues to creep up in a nauseating stir . . . I wonder as I sit here when "freedom" will speak to that place.

There is also a freedom to trust again that begins to gingerly make its way to my reality.  I have several who have not faded . . . not relinquished . . .  not turned away during the nastiness of times.  They see something . . . believe in one, truer than I often can trust in.  If I attempt to name any or all, I am so shortsighted, for they desire not to be on a list, but rather to be known.  Yes, I know each of you by name, and you to me as well!   Even if we are apart, the shade of your friendship casts a cool breeze over an unsettled heart and an encouraging glory to believe and dream.  Again, thankfulness and humility stir.  I feel life force forward as I linger there  . . . creativity, vulnerability, risk . . . all began to take shape and movement.  Hmmmmmm , love, devotion, sacrifice, risk, cost . . . all similar themes in different places, but true to the One who disperses His gifts among us.

But take everything else away and the one constant trust that daily stands in my existence is family.  My wife and my children continue to journey with me in ways that cannot be explained or expressed deeply enough.  They are the ones that I truly pray will dance for years to come in the environment that we have explored and shared together . . . this place of freedom and grace.  To share years with one that even in the midst of loss, disappointment, hurt and misunderstanding , continues to endeavor to learn and exhibit the very heart of a Father who has believed, loved and trusted with so much.  We have shared that life with children . . . who are now into the "adult years" learning on their own all that that same Father is desiring for their hearts to rest into as well.  It's painful, at times, to watch them suffer loss, failure, betrayal, pain . . . but I know, somewhere deep inside my soul, that they will discover "freedom" in ways that I have only dreamed of.  Maybe that is it . . . maybe my dreams have often been more attached to their unfolding paths - more than my securing anything further.  Yes, that seems so TRUE!  My "independence" is really attached to believe and hope in the betterment of those I love deepest. . . . Again . . . similar symphony expressing itself in other tunes and scores . . . 

Yes, I sense a calmness in that place.  A rest that is "unsettled" in one sense , but yet so solid that you know will endure and be fulfilled as those that I love dearest taste those very dreams as realities for themselves. 

Freedom . . . more for others than myself . . . 

maybe I am  . . . 

FREE 

 

I'm the UN-Official Winner of SURVIVOR

So . . .

It didn't come with a 1 MILLION DOLLAR CHECK . . . no one voted me on or off their island or kept me in or snubbed me out of their "alliance" . . .  (well, that last part isn't true . . . have had alot of folks walk away from me or toss me to the curb, but that's way off today's hair loss ...)


but I am the Unofficial SURVIVOR . . . !!!


I survived Mother's Day . . .

Survived doesn't seem to be the right word actually.

Endured ??

Passed it (sorta like a kidney stone?) or bad Mexican tacos  ???

I was SO NOT looking forward to it . . . although, I've been very blessed with a wonderful woman in my life to join with me in being the most incredible mom to our amazing three kiddos.   Jan is a precious, redemptive, and cherished mother and wife!!  She'll put a smile on your face, just by saying her name :)

But this day, it was difficult for me to stay focused on her.

Yeah, that damned grief virus just hasn't left my soul and heart yet.

In recent weeks (it may be months - I'm horrible at time statements these days) , I've had the privilege of the continual presence of night-mares and tormenting dreams.  I really can't recall what they are about in detail.  I simply know, when I awake, that I've had another one.  Sometimes I awaken in a sweat . . . other times I'm jolted awake . . . but most of the time, I arouse with an emptiness inside and I know I've had another.

And they involve mom . . .

So, yesterday, as my day began at 6:45 am . . . it was there again . . . and I "zombied" through my day wondering if I'll ever be free of this nagging "blanket" of  . . . . . . whatever one would call it.

I received 2 of the most beautiful and heartfelt texts from my wife and daughter in the morning . . . both reminding me of my place in their love and hearts .  . . . reminding me that death has indeed lost it's ultimate sting and the grave holds no victory in love.  How wonderfully tender and strong their words spoke to this aching, scared, beaten down, exhausted, empty heart !!!   Reminded, ever so gently, that Grace and Love Always Win!

But the poison still remains . . . . and I know it must continue to work it's way around . . .

And so I "delivered" my Mother's Day Talk at church . . . I really have no clue what I said . . . lol . . . this from a guy who used to script out every word, pause, inflection and gesture.  But literally felt like Lazarus, walking around in grave clothes all morning.   Enjoyed a delightful dinner honoring Jan . . . took a nap, either brought on by the depression or the cocktails at dinner . . . cleaned the toilets at church (another gift to my wife ;-)) . . . and tevo-therapy.

This morning, it occurred to me, that I hadn't heard from any friends on this heart wrenching day . . . and so it must be I guess . . .

Many "lies" threaten to take up camp in my mind . . . dismissing thoughts over my life , impact, presence . . .

But they don't.

I think because I'm too exhausted to wrestle and fuel them around in the mental aerobics that I can exhaust from time to time.  But today, I'm warmed by the knowledge that I matter to the 2 women that are the most important living persons that I love.  And that is SO Enough right now.

Reflecting back on conversations with Lois and Pat yesterday morning . . . Lois in her late 80's and completely alone, except her blind companion Pat by her side.  They are so delightful.  They walk around our church's parking lot during the week to get their "exercise" and to steal flowers out of our flower beds . . .lol . . . they so crack me up!!   This blind woman and the other with a walker trying to "sneak around" . . . too cute to even picture . . . .    We honored Lois with a special bouquet  . . . as one of our oldest moms . . . and I shared her story.  A few years back, Lois lost her husband, her son, her daughter and all her grandchildren all in a few months of each other.  She is all alone now .  No family whatsoever.   Just passing her days with her side-kick Pat by her side.  She wonders out loud why "the Lord isn't finished" with her here yet . . . My grieving heart wonders the same, except for the power of her presence as she laughs and jokes with me.

Today, I was reading some of Jim Palmer's "Being Jesus in Nashville" and came across the following quote from the movie American Beauty . . .

It's like God's looking right at you, just for a second, and if you're careful . . . you can look right back.

I survived indeed . . . with the "grace-deposits" of 2 beautiful love and an "Eve" named "Lois" . . .

Could have used the Million bucks, can't lie about that (as the Barenaked Ladies tune floats through my head all day)  . . . but will let the lingering presence of healing graces absorb in its absence . . .

"Jesus didn't psychologize or spiritualize people's suffering.  He didn't even seem to try to explain it in light of God.  Jesus faced suffering and tasted the depths of it.  He leaned into it, endured it, and fully met others in their suffering.  Jesus did not live a detached life, as I had understood it.  Jesus cared. Jesus wept.  Jesus felt it al deeply.  There is some way, perhaps a middle way, between living in denial and being swallowed whole by the pain and suffering of human existence, and this is how Jesus lived.   

Being Jesus means that we go through life embracing it all fully and feeling it all deeply.  That we don't hide and try to protect ourselves.  That we live.  That we show up.  That we laugh.  That we cry.  That we hurt.  That we heal.  That we care.  That we love.  And then, that we wake up the next morning and sign up for it all over again."    --taken from "Being Jesus in Nashville: Finding the Courage to Live Your Life

Stuck In A Moment . . . and I can't get out of it . . .

This season continues to be one of the most challenging times I've encountered.  I wonder often how the previous challenges in my life have prepared me for this season, and while I know in my head that my story is all woven together by Another - right now, that thought fails to bring me the strength to endure.

My most recent self-revelation has to do with the everyday occurance of just making decisions.  It seems like such a normal part of life , similar to breathing, blinking, and even tooting, but in these recent times, it is one of the most painful places that I find my feet standing in.

I'm completely frozen . . .

"I was unconscious, half asleep
The water is warm till you discover how deep . . .
I wasn't jumping . . .  for me it was a fall
It's a long way down to nothing at all"
- Bono

How does one go from being a very confident "leader" . . . decisive . . . negotiator and mediator . . . to a zombie who just sits and stairs out into oblivion?

Not sure . . .

I just know that's where I'm at . . .

There is this haunting sense that I totally f'd up when it came to mom's care.  Other's looked to me (which isn't new or unusual) and I prayed and trusted and offered truth as I understood it to be unfolding . . . but now, looking back (and I don't even have to look back, because the reminders are ever present in front of me) I just don't know.

And this has spilled over to just about every arena of my life.  Planning Sunday talks, interacting in weekly and daily conversations, getting dressed, daily to do lists, larger projects , etc . . . all are stuck in a moment, and I can't get out of it.

I'm freezing up . . . and I sooooooo HATE that right now . . .

What happens when the one person you've always trusted in . . . yourself . . . lets you and others down so dramatically in the worst possible scenario!

A life and death situation that was real  . . .

There is nothing left . . .

And I'm really fortunate right now, because I have good friends and wonderful family members who stand with me even in the midst of uncertainty or awful decisions.  That does bring me large gulps of air when I'm suffocating.  Gone, at least for right now, are the ones who cast grenades and then walk away.

I'm very thankful for what and who I've discovered in this reality . . .

But even in the good place . . . there is this "lostness" . . .

Even as these good and faithful others offer their suggestions and things I should do . . . it seems to add more cement to the quagmire that is surrounding the feet of my inner world.  Like I haven't thought of all they are saying ???   They mean well . . . and their advice is really wise . . .but somehow, I just feel missed in the midst of it.

The thought keeps pounding in my head . . . "they need to talk to someone else" . . .

Most recently this occurred in trying to help my daughter in purchasing a car . . . I stood in a man's garage staring into who knows where . . . wanting to "pull the trigger" and say yes . . . but doubting every breath that I was taking in and letting out in that moment.   I stood there for 45 minutes of awkward silence off and on.  The same thing happened trying to order dinner the other day . . . is seems so stupid and silly and unfortunately that LIE takes up root in your heart and you believe that you are so stupid and silly and worthless and dumb and . . . . keep on adding on the adjectives.

Really hate this place . . . this part of "process" . . . this place of "maturing trust" . . .

Glimpses of Grace

In the midst of disappointments, whether relational or other life meltdowns, it is hard to see what is happening around us. I think in part the reason is that we are "forced" to look downward and focus on our next step. Or maybe, we have to look downward at the mortal wound our heart has taken . . . we wonder if the bleeding will ever stop . . . if the the pain will remain. We bandage and take care of those areas, and unfortunately, we get used to looking downward.





I've noticed that when I continue to look downward, I become disoriented . . . sometimes very dizzy when I do attempt to move.





Now, don't think this is heading in that "spiritual direction" necessarily . . . lol . . . I'm not one of those bandwagon collectors of religious pithy sayings that are better left in the BS pile they came out of . . . . not gonna challenge you to "keep your eyes on the sky and keep looking up" as one radio personality used to always throw out . . .





But I am learning something about the surprising nature of grace , its healing work , and how it often appears . . .





If we remember a couple of scenes from the biblical account , it offers some clues . . .





Like, for instance, when that "gardener" approached the woman at Jesus' tomb that morning. She was glued into her emotions . . . her activities that early morning . . . the "story" her life had been enduring. And she had no clue who it was standing next to her . . . "why are you seeking the living among the dead" . . . or in my translation . . . . "pssst, hey . . . got a second . . . I know you think you are bleeding to death right now, but . . . look over here a sec . . . " . . .





Or the two friends on that road to Emmaus . . . pissed off, argueing, depressed , all screwed up . . . Scripture actually says they were downcast . . . eyes, looking downward . . . "Hey, what's up ?? Whatcha talking about?? . . . OH REALLY?? . . . Got a sec . . . let's walk along . . . let me explain and shows you some stuff" . . .








So, I attempt (very feebly at times) to look around me. And , when I least expect it . . . poof there He is.





This recent sighting occurred a couple of Sundays ago. I meet with some friends on Sunday mornings to talk about various spiritual issues and pray for one another, catch up on the happenings of our lives (can you believe some folks don't do the Facebook thing?? Unbelievable . . . lol) , among other things. Well, across the street from where we meet is an assisted living facility that has been the residence of some "interesting" folks over the years. Every once in a while, someone will come over, usually to share in the snacks and refreshments we share together after our meeting. And each one of them, much like us, have some rather "unique" peculiarities and stories that surrond their lives. Take "Toby" for instance. Toby's story had some troubling chapters that involved depression and attempted suicide. He had a difficult time walking and talking but would always tell our teens (and anyone else willing to listen) to "Not do drugs . . . because it made him put a 357 magnum in his mouth" . . . and while it didn't end his life, the damage was irreparable . . . and he was quite the character to say the least. To say these folks are what we'd pass off as "crazy" is really an under and over statement. I have found that they are just like me in sooo many ways. Toby and I would often sit around and spout off Led Zepplin lyrics to each other. He couldn't remember his shoes (btw, anyone seen my sneakers?? ) but he could remember a song . . .





But this Sunday . . . something else was up beyond the usual . . . I was pontificating about some minute point that I felt God wanted me to make, when all of a sudden this lady walks in the back door of our room. Which isn't a big deal because we are so laid back that folks are often coming and going (mostly going these days ;p) . . . but in she walks and begins to look for a place to sit down. Now this particular week, I had arranged the chairs in a large semi circle so we were all pretty much facing each other. When you do that, the back seats fill up real fast . . . my friends get very uncomfortable when other people looking at them that they try to put more distance to themselves. So, not finding any seats open in the "back" of the room, she continues to navigate herself to the front. Now things get pretty distracting because she doesn't look like us at all . For one thing, we are a bunch of white folks and she is of a darker color scheme . . . then there is the dress . We tend to dress pretty relaxed and comfortable when we get together , but she was redefining this protocol. she had, probably (and I'm more than likely understating this) 35-40 little stuff animals pinned to her dress . . . from her neck to her ankles. And here she is clinking and clunking her way up to the 2nd to the front row of this circle of people. In my head, voices are saying things like "AGAIN??? What the heck am I supposed to do now? . . . Keep pressing on brother . . . lay out that Truth for the kingdom . . . Is she going to come all the way up by me??" It was hilarious although none of us chuckled . . . awkward although most pretended not to stare, etc. She sat there and looked at me as if to say "yeah?? you got something to say to me?"





Well, I really can't recall what all was going on except that I was dying on the inside while watching her from the corner of my eye . . . she dumps everything out of her purse and starts rummaging through it . . . like she's looking for that button that will win her a price on "Let's Make A Deal", etc.



But I've learned that in the things that are most distracting . . . most awkward . . . most unacceptable . . . most unlike me . . . there is a Presence far grander than my pain . I'm learning to take notice . . .

So, as our group time drew to a close . . . I offered a word of blessing and prayer, then we all headed for some refreshments. And the "teddy bear gal" was right in there with all of us. Some of us cringed at the moment she dishes out her goodies. Other's do there best to connect with her, asking her name . . . how she is doing today . . . can they help her. In one moment, the one that took my breath away that morning, a man stepped toward her and offered his hand and some words of welcome and connection. I almost broke down in tears, for indeed she was welcome in our midst. So much has changed in these places for me. The pressure from others as well as internally from my own woundedness has been slowly eroding away. And in its place is an unspeakable joy that continues to emerge. It has always been there . . . like when Ke' (another resident who was from Vietnam and spoke no English) made his way forward to our "altar" in the midst of me teaching on Romans. Ke' humbled himelf in prayer to Someone , and then maybe 5-10 minutes later, got up and returned to his seat. Or when one gal, screamed out at the conclusion of our "service" -- "THREE CHEERS FOR PASTOR PAT . . . HIP, HIP , HOORAY . . . HIP , HIP, HOORAY . . . HIP, HIP, HOORAY" . . . .

I thought for a moment that I was actually hearing the Trinity's glee over my being . . .

Yeah, these "glimpses" have become such intimate whispers of healing that I'm embarrassed to even share. Simply am hoping to encourage maybe another lost pilgrim, that in the moments of their total hurt, isolation and hardships . . . He is still there. Most often, in images and moments that you may not even notice unless you raise your gaze for a moment . . .

"PSSST . . . HEY . . . OVER HERE . . . "

To emphasize the point even further . . . as some of us are coming back into our meeting area, and she has left the building with her snacks piled in her arms . . . we notice something even more amazing . . . the "pile" that she had left on the seat next to her . . . . well, it's still there . . . . and its not exactly a "pile" . . . nope . . . it was actually . . . her offering . . .

She had dumped out a couple of $1 bills and a pile of change and had left it there . . . her "widow's mite" if you will . . .

As I walked over to gather the offering together . . . I was about to burst into tears . . . I felt like I was in the "Holy of Holies" (to reference some Old Testament language and imagery) . . . indeed . . . in the midst of all of us . . . someone had given all . . . ALL . . . and she gave it to us . . . to help, to share , to whatever . . . no fan-fare . . . no demand that we minister to her needs or not offend or not hurt her feelings . . . no . . . just dumped her stuff and walked away . . .

Honor, Dignity, Brotherhood, Sacrifice

It's all the things we long for actually isn't it?

Been spending some time talking with friends about a letter in the Bible, Ephesians, the past several months. It's been good stuff . . . the timing incredible! This past Sunday, we were looking at vs. 25 of chapter 4:

"What this adds up to, then, is this: no more lies, no more pretense.
Tell you neighbor the truth. In Christ's body we're all connected to each
other, after all. When you lie to others, you end up lying to
yourself."

So, we talked about it, the interaction was good (as usual). But Monday, I saw it . . . it action . . . real flesh and bones . . . right before our eyes!

I don't know if you've ever seen a military funeral. They are quite something to behold! The austere presence is moving. We were up at Bushnell at the Florida National Cemetary to say a final good bye to Alfred, a loving husband, father, grand-father, friend. He had served our country in the Army through WWII. He had also been a NYPD Detective, serving in that capacity for 30 years as well. He was truly honored by all those who gathered in remembrance. The Color-Guard awaited his arrival, and along with his family, escorted his body to this solemn and holy place. There are various groups that will help in occasions such as this, various military guards . . . but today, I was moved by those who would honor Alfred's life and service in this moment. For these were men and women who had also served our country . . . veterans from every branch. They were not active duty personnel, but rather, each one was very old now themselves. Their cadence was off as they marched, but not within . . . voices were a bit shaky now as they spoke and answered commands, but not within. Even the dear one who played "Taps" seemed to labor with each breath and each note. These were Alfred's comrades. These were ones who had served with him. And they honored their hero, their brother with an expression of love, honor and dignity that few of us ever get to see much less experience.

It dawned on me in that moment, Paul's words again . . . (as another translation reads), "We are members of one another" . . . was being lived out right in front of our eyes. For these warriors understood, and have embraced and lived something that the Father has actually asked each church to model and live before a community and world that simply doesn't see or experience this powerful union. No, we squabble about every little thing under the sun. Hurt feelings, missed expectations, music, programs, gossip, politics are what we model. Soldiers are not perfect people at all. I grew up in the shadow of the military as an Army brat. They don't even try to hide their faults at all. They cuss, smoke (maybe), hang out at the NCO club, . . . swap stories, brag, hide, probably lie . . . their marriages suffer intensely . . . their kids lose much . . . but in the midst of all their lives, THEY ARE A COMMUNITY!! The soldier on the battlefield knows that his survival is in the hands of the man who lays next to him in the foxhole and he trusts him warts and all.

Man, my heart longs for that type of community . . .

and I feel fortunate because I have been graced with a few close comrades both close and afar . . . but so many have not.

John Lynch, from TrueFaced, has often said "wouldn't it be wonderful if the absolute worse things about you are known, and you are still celebrated".

Honestly, that just hasn't been my larger experience in this journey called "church" . . . every time I screw up, I felt judged, abandoned and thrown out with the bath-water. But when I'm just about ready to chuck it all and give up . . . a peaceful dove is released and I feel hope stir. I believe . . . I truly do . . .

I think the secret of that reality was displayed as each shaking fold of the American flag was creased before our eyes. As each member of the color guard saluted their brother in honor, respect, and love. And even as one returned the salute on behalf of the one that would no longer be saluting.

"Well done thy good and faithful servant" . . . the words echoed across the landscape . . . as each member, with unstable gates and steps returned to their posts and awaited the next fallen brother . . . my heart cried out "WELL DONE TO EACH OF YOU!!"

Thank you Alfred!

WTF . . . (i meant 'waiting though fed-up' - get your mind out of the gutter)

Yesterday was a rough day for me . . . I spent a couple of hours with some friends and their loved ones at Hospice yesterday. It was too soon for me. Stomach is still in knots, and I still feel "yucky" even this morning (like someone put a shop vac to my stomach - remember the scene in The Matrix where they suck out that little tracer from Neo's gut. . . yeah, like that ) . . . but it was a place that I sensed the Father wanted me to be and to join into, so I'm actuall "ok" with all of that.

But, like usual . . . it got me thinking some more . . .

One of the thoughts that came back to me was , "I can't WAIT until I'm ok again" . . . "can't WAIT until I'm passed all this 'stuff'", etc

WAIT . . .

not one of my favorite places to sit . . . it's irritating actually!! Gives me a rash . . . metaphorically and physically. I have this spot on my calf that is a "warning light" to me . . . starts itching and a rash develops telling me that stress is kicking my body's ass and I need to be aware of it. I wish I didn't need warnings or reminders but I do . . . I'm just that dense sometimes. But Sunday started me off pretty irritated at some people and while I thought I "dealt" with that, I keep having to "deal with it" . . . then yesterday came with all it's raw emotions and such . . . and today, my calf itches. 2 different kinds of rashes . . . people give me a rash on my buttocks . . . life shows up on my calf . . .

one of the biblical writers wrote about "waiting" (Isaiah 40:31) . . . i find it interesting that he starts off that chapter talking about "comfort" . . . there must be some mysterious connection between the two themes. It is also a kind note (vs. 11) that He speaks of "tending his flock like a shepherd: gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart;"

and I understand a bit of the Hebrew to where the "waiting" is tied to "hope" . . . but right now, the waiting seems tied more to suffocation! Like the waiting I'm enduring is that moment where you jumped into the river from a high cliff and now you sense the bubbles rising up to the surface faster than you can get there and you are gasping for anything - air . . . water (bad idea btw) - and you are swimming upward but the surface seems too far away to reach.

WAIT . . .

I just can't figure this stuff out . . . which is actually, I'm sensing, the better place to be.

Yesterday too, had my mind rushing all over the place. Back and forth to past conversations and decisions that were made or not made. It's really hard to get back up to the surface when some types of currents keep pushing you around and pulling you back under . . . It's like surfing in some ways. When you wipe it out bad . . . and you are caught up in the tumbling surface and generated energy of a crashing wave that is using and abusing you. You might find yourself being pushed up on the rocks or at least the cutting bottom of shells and such . . . a shoreline break is very treacherous like that . . .

So you WAIT . . .

eventually, you believe that this energy and tumbling will stop . . . but right now your body seems determined to breathe, but you can't . . . for to breathe in now would be worse.

WAIT . . .

It's been a John Mayer 24 hours too . . . "Waiting on the World to change" speaks more to the spiritual ache in me more than even the social evils he espresses and is concerned about . . . http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oBIxScJ5rlY&ob=av3e
(skip the ad. . . I hate Vevo)

but that WAITING part . . .

wait . . . I have to scratch again . . .

Abandonement

Ok . . . so, let me start this entry with a warning and disclaimer :

• if you know me, you might want to not read this blog entry . . .


• if you walk into a room and folks are whispering. . . . and you catch yourself wondering if they are whispering about you . . . don't read this blog . . .


• if profanity is offensive to you . . . . don't go any further . . .


• if you tend to "blow people off" . . . save yourself the energy


• if being picked last always kept you awake at night . . . sleep soundly by skipping to another post . . .

Now the disclaimer :

• I'm not talking about you specifically . . .

ok . . . now onto my dis-connected thoughts:

One of the themes that keeps emerging from within my brokenness is this theme of abandonement. The first time I can recall this place within was when I was somewhere between the ages of 3-6. An ambulance had been called to our house because they thought my mom was having a heart attack. I don't remember much about the discussion . . . I remember the ambulance workers downstairs talking with my mom and putting her on a stretcher. I stayed in my room. And then, as I heard the ambulance siren crank up again, I looked out my bedroom window and saw the flashing lights as they drove down the hill away from our house. It was so dark outside, but I followed those flashing lights all the way out onto the main highway and watched in the distance as they disappeared.

And I wanted to throw up . . .

Something inside was afraid . . . I was alone . . . in my room . . . would my mom be ok? Will I be alone for the rest of my life? Just some of the crazy thoughts that pass through the mind of a young child . . . one with an incredibly active imagination to boot . . .

Fast Forward 40+ years . . . this time, I was riding with my mom in the ambulance as they transported her from the ICU at the hospital to Hospice . . . it would be part of the last journey mom and I would take together here on earth. My mind raced through so many thoughts, but that night so long ago now . . . and the flashing lights . . . and the sense of aloneness were very present. And then as we walked away from Hospice that afternoon . . . it continued to haunt . . . to her apartment . . . to NC as we laid her to rest . . . the ache was very real . . . and now a month after her passing into eternity, the haunting is pissing me off.

Why??

Because it is true . . .

Yep . . .

As much as I see things often as half full , and hope and believe in the best in others and situations . . . this one won't escape me . . .

In the end , I'm alone . . .

Now, don't misunderstand me . . . (for this is where my "openess" could carry an atom bomb) I have been so blessed in the past several years, for the friends that God has brought into my life. For the deepened friendship I have experienced from one's too precious to share them publically but I pray that the Father will bring something special into their lives for the dedication and commitment that they have shown toward me and my family.

My wife, kids . . . such joy fills my heart when I think of you!

My aunt, uncle, cousins . . . I would have never made it through that week without their graces!

The Seven ;)

The DD boys . . .

others at BCC and FCFC . . .

yeah, I simply can't even list them all . . . I'm so blessed!!!

But at the same time . . . there is this excruciating pain that I feel deep in my heart and soul. Wounds that the have been brought there by the actions of myself and others. I can't even call them "friends" anymore, because that word has come to mean so much to me now . . . but they are ones that I would have once numbered as close brothers and sisters.

I was there for them through so many pains and trials and situations . . . deaths, births , dedications, baptisms, parties, dinners, communions, movies, concerts, etc . . .

and I've heard nothing from them . . .

Nothing!

Maybe they don't know . . . I'll grant that grace mainly because of how often I simply have not known of a situation in another's life. But these folks have made it their busyness to know how well our church is doing or what my family is doing or how many staff are still at the church or how much I make or what car I drive . . . They've taken the time to mock and smear my name and reputation . . .

and now , their silence mocks the thing closest and truest in life . . . COMMUNITY

This was pushed even more deeply by one of "them" (i'm killing myself with how deep my own self-protection flows so that I'm labeling them as "them") the other night . . . We haven't really spoken in awhile . . . and when the opportunity came up, this former friend took up an hour of my life telling me about themselves . . . and the more they talked, the more deeply I ached. There was a moment when they actually said "how is Jan and the kids doing", and before I could say anything , I heard another 20 minutes about their family . . .

God, that killed me . . .

I'm 4 again and I want to puke . . .

when I look at you , I see a dark sky with a red light flashing as the siren takes it further and further away from me . . .

I want to shout out "F U", but why waste my breath . . .

Why do I even care ??

Because I'm afraid I'm alone . . .

and alot of you have done alot to reinforce that pain in my soul . . .

yeah, well screw you . . . my mouth motions . . .

God, it's been a month now . . . and I know, and you know, that I'm nowhere near healing in all this crapola . . . I hate feeling this vulnerable . . . so used and disposed of . . .

Does what we do or believe or offer even matter??

Are we nothing more than commodities that others use and leave?

and other thoughts stir too . . .

He was despised and rejected . . .

He made himself of no reputation . . .

He even thought his own dad had rejected and forsaken him in his moment of greatest pain and need . . .

hmmm . . .

Comfortably Numb

It started out like a fun idea (like most of mine sorta do :-\ ) . . .

I was a youth pastor at the time and me and some of the youth were getting together at different folks homes during the summer . . . just hanging out . . . playing some v-ball . . . doing whatever . . .

well, whatever can be . . . a good idea that goes bad real fast . . .

So, here we were . . . in this big open field . . . firing water baloons at one another from a pretty large distance . . . maybe 50 yards apart or so . . .

Then the challenge began . . .

Yeah, I'm sorta like Marty McFly in that way . . . have a hard time being called a chicken or anything like that . . . but in a moment of male arrogance, one of the guys said that he could probably hit me if I stood still out in the field . . .

So I did . . .

And he missed . . .

And the jawwing began . . .

And he missed again . . .

and again . . .

so I stepped closer . . . and he missed . . . and I stepped closer . . . and he missed again . . . and I stepped closer . . .

and it was in that moment that everything went into slow motion . . . I remember standing there, hands on hips (envision Robin Williams in Hook taunting Cap'n Hook) . . . and watching the water baloon release from the launcher (yeah, I was that close by then) and then trying to jump up and out of the way . . .

But I was too slow . . .

and at probably 90 mph and me just 15 yards away . . . I barely had time to flinch . . .

and it hit me . . . . yep . . . uh huh . . .

imagine giving the "V" victory sign , then turning your hand over , like you would pretend to walk, and then stick your thumb through . . .

yep . . .

I went down . . . Hard . . . but I wasn't sure why I was down because all I had was this moment of sudden numbness . . .

Sorta like when you were a kid, playing in the snow (ok, you florida crackers can pretend here) and someone hits you in the face with a snowball, or worse, an iceball . . .

Just numb . . .

And that is what moments in this grief journey feel like . . . . just numb . . .

And numb can be good . . . because it's just the heart's way of protecting itself because you have suffered a tremendous blow to it. But you know it's going to wear off and then . . . . well, pain, nausea, heaving . . . etc.

And during those numb moments you feel like you have a third eye growing out of your forehead. Everyone (even the dog) seems to look at you oddly and speak to you more slowly and intentional than before. You begin to wonder , "is there something wrong with me?" . . . and that's where numbness can become a problem . Because when we choose to stay numb because the fear of feeling can be too overwhelming to us, then that can become almost addicting in its own way. Becoming "comfortably numb" is dangerous . . . And you haven't even grabbed that MnM or margarita yet. But, on its own, "numb" is just protecting . . . warning . . . that, "YES", you've taken a hit . . . and so we then must see it as not something that is simply reactionary or reflex, but more. Really, "numbness" is an invitation. Yep . . . it is inviting us to feel . . . to hurt . . . to ache . . . to cry . . . to wonder . . . to believe . . . to taste . . . to see . . . to heal . . .

And that is what makes us most human . . . that process . . . it makes us most alive . . .

So . . . go ahead . . . stare at my third eye . . . stand over me . . . my heart is alive in this . . . aches, yes . . . churns, you bet . . . but alive even though I appear numb . . .

Do Overs

Wouldn't it be nice, if really . . . we could just start over??

To get a "do--over", or in my case, to get a couple of hundred ??

Wouldn't it really be nice, if you got another shot . . . another chance . . .

Last night's Super Bowl brought this to mind a bit . . . very few "mistakes" actually, but will Patriot players run the dropped pass over and over again in their minds? Will it replay over and over again . . . and will they daydream about a 2nd chance? A do-over ??

I hate regret!! Really, really do!!

but c'mon, . . . give me a break . . . why does it have to just sit back there in the back of my mind like it does??

Now I know that many of my "super-duper christian friends" have overcome this little nagging demon . . . they have "let go and let god" . . . "forgetting what lies behind . . . pressing onward. . . " or whatever formula has worked for them. But for me . . . it just sits there and nags . . .

I got a bit of a do'over this morning. I started jogging again. Yep, stumbled and heaved my way to 2 3/4 miles in 30 something minutes. I'm starting over again since my ankle injury back in November totally sidelined me . . . and then all this stuff with mom hit the fan . . . but I started it again today . . . my Couch to 5k . . . will work myself up to the 5k once again, and then onto a 10k . That's my goal. But I've done that before . . .so that do-over is palatable. It's the ones that I know I can't get back . . .

It's the other ones that haunt . . .

What if??

What if I had not moved my mom up by us . . . what if I had chosen a different doctor for her . . . what if I had insisted even greater on the 2nd CAT scan . . . what if I had suggested a different rehab facility . . . ugh . . .

The desire for a do-over is ok for the most part I think. It is actually something that I think is lodged in this eternal longing that Romans says has been set inside all of us. Something is wrong with this place we call "home" . . . it is more obvious at some times more than others, but in those moments, something cries out for justice and harmony and the desire to have things set "right" . . . . a new chance . . . a do-over . . .

But then, something inside me twists it and in that moment I sense a regret . . . a haunting whisper reminds me of all the mistakes . . . of all the screw ups . . . all the miscues . . . . maybe I'll just ignore it again . . . maybe I'll get busy into one of this daunting projects that has been waiting for my return and I'll simply lose that awareness that, maybe, it was my fault . . .

hmmmm . . . where are those MnM's ???

"Good" Grief

wow . . . it's been awhile since I last posted something here . . . May of 2010 . . . yeah, I guess nothing has happened in the last 20 months or so . . . :-\

Whatever!?$%#!

rejected friendships . . . judged by others . . . changes in life plans and professional goals (lol) . . . less finances . . . more car problems . . .


but that is in the past, at least for right now . . . at least somewhat . . .

Grief has a way of disturbing the past . . . the present . . . the future . . .

And I think I will start vomiting some thoughts once again . . . this time as my heart and life processes things . . .

It's been almost a month since I got another distruptive phone call (at 4am this time) . . . this time it was about mom . . . she had fallen in her bathroom and was going to the ER. Thus began 2 1/2 weeks of roller coaster riding that has left me feeling like a zombie at times . . . pissed off at other moments . . . and "normal" in some rare instances.

Mom passed away almost 2 weeks ago now . . . I was overwhelmed by the emotions of those weeks . . . surprised . . .

"Good Grief" . . . really Charlie Brown?? REALLY ?? There always seemed to be some resignation in his tone as I watched and read those cartoons . . . and yet there seems to be a whisper of redemption as well.

There is very little that I have experienced about grief that has been good in my life. And before some of you try to rectify my situation by pointing out the good fruit, the silver lining, the blessings, etc . . . let me simply say this . . . Do me a big favor and stop reading now . . . and please just shut up for awhile . . . I have a feeling that these ramblings will be messy and raw . . . but something and some-things need to be said.

Googling "grief" has its insightfulness . . . the stages . . . understanding . . . etc . . . but Googling leaves out one major headline . . . THIS S$*& (that editing was for my love ;-)) SUCKS!!

Grief feels like someone has reached into my stomach area . . . through my sternum . . . felt around for my gall bladder or my liver or my lung and just pulled it directly out . . . wait, that isn't my bladder or liver, you may have my colon or something deeper. . . no stitching, to carderizing (sp?), . . . just raw and abusive . . . you gotta think of Indiana Jones and the Skull movie I think as the guy reaches into the other dude and yanks out his heart and then shows it to him . . . yeah . . . ouch and yuk!

It's not supposed to happen . . . and yet it does . . . and life shouts that we just go on and yet we can't . . . we won't . . . we mustn't . . .

Grief . . . a reminder that what we've experienced as "life" is simply an illusion or may be better yet - an echo of another "Life" . . . something more is out there as I experience something less. And it is "less" . . . because , she is gone . . . I know it is natural . . . I know it is part of the circle of life Rafiki . . . but she's gone . . . I've forgotten her voice . . . her laugh . . . her "tone" . . . we've been left with a mess of problems to journey through . . .

Grief Sucks . . .

and yet . . .

i have sensed a goodness in this place . . . now, again, for those who are itching to rush me to the end of the story . . . just shut up . . . go read the latest captions in Christianity Today magazine or something christianese like that . . .

yeah . . . some good-ness . . .

for the last couple of days with mom in her moments of dementia . . . her moments after her brain surgery . . . I began to taste something "good" in our relationship . . .

something I have longed for . . . for a long time . . .

and then it was snatched away by death . . .

Grief's presence seems stronger . . .

I'm haunted by desire and death within . . . feels worse that that week at Lake Swan camp as a kid, where I buried my head in my pillow and cried myself to sleep every night . . . where the other kids laughed at me and I didn't fit in . . . my stomach hurt the whole week . . . thought I would throw up the whole week . . . they called it "homesickness" . . . I called it "you're a panzy-ass whimp who can't stay away from home and be like all the other 'almost grown up men' boys" . . . I think I was 10 or 11 maybe

The haunting feels so raw again . . .

Gosh I hate it!!

Been feeling very "anxious" as Jan and I prepare to head back home . . . why?? , I don't have a clue . . . my stomach is in my throat . . . was "hoping" that this week to unwind would help me keep things together and move on . . .lol . . . not really, I know . . . but give me a break --- I can pretend can't I ??!!!?!!

But grief won't let us pretend will it? Nope . . . it's "in your face" . . . even though it can be buried under the surface for a time.

So I'm here . . . wherever that is . . .

and,

something within whispers "it's good" . . .