This afternoon my wife, son, and I met with the principal of the Catholic private grade school in our neighborhood. Never having done this before, we weren't sure what to expect. In the end, the result was positive, as our son was accepted to start at this school in September 2008. In fact, it seemed like she had already made up her mind to accept him.
While this is speculation, I think that she liked the fact that we are probably one of the few families that actually believe and practive our faith in mostly similar ways. She also seemed interested in all of us being native English-speakers, as English is the chosen 2nd language of the school. Our son is perhaps the only native English speker there. As my wife has training in TESL, the principal asked her if she might be able to work with some of the discussion groups. I mentioned that I might be able to help bring some native English-speakers to help with these groups.
I feel relieved that our decision seems to be made now. I think that the school will provide a good training ground for our son...and probably daughters as well. The school also seems interested in our involvement as well, which may provide some open doors for ministry.
jeudi 29 novembre 2007
mercredi 28 novembre 2007
Blue Like Jazz: Laura at Reed College
I started rereading Don Miller's classic book Blue Like Jazz (Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 2003) a couple of days ago. I found my first reading of it in December 2005 to be enjoyable and stimulating. I saw it prominently placed in a bookstore at Washington Dulles Airport 2 weeks ago, so I figured that it must be popular among travelers.
I came across chapters 4 and 5, which tell of Miller's involvement at Reed College in Portland, Oregon. The Pacific Northwest is known as being one of the most unchurched regions of the U.S. In this way, it is like France and a lot of Western Europe.
Miller describes Reed College in the following way: "Some of the Christians in Portland talk about Reed College as if it is hades. They say the students at Reed are pagans, heathens in heart. Reed was recently selected by the Princeton Review as the college where students are most likely to ignore God. It is true. It is a godless place, known for existential experimentation of all sorts. There are no rules at Reed, and many of the students there have issues with authority. Reed students, however, are also brilliant. Loren Pope, former education editor for the New York Times, calls Reed 'the most intellectual college in the country.' Reed receives more awards and fellowships, per capita, than any other American college and has entertained more than thirty Rhodes scholars." (p. 17)
He then tells of his taking courses there, making friends there, and even of some people finding Christ there. I appreciate how he sees people there as people, rather than simply evangelism targets. Concerning a classmate named Laura, he writes: "Laura and I didn't talk much about religion after that. She had dreams of becoming a writer, so we talked about literature. She would give me articles or essays she had written. I ate them. They were terrific. It was very much an honor to even know her. I could sense very deeply that God wanted a relationship with every human being, but with Laura I could feel God's urgency. Laura, however, wanted little to do with it. She never brought up the idea of God, so I didn't either." (p. 41)
Miller was stimulated by this environment. He writes: "I felt alive at Reed...As odd as it sounds, having grown up in church, I fell in love with the campus. The students were brilliant and engaged. I was fed there, stimulated, and impassioned. I felt connected to the raging current of thoughts and ideas. And what's more, I had more significant spiritual experiences at Reed College than I ever had at church....Interacting with these guys showed me how shallow and self-centered my Christian faith had bcome. Many of the students hated the very idea of God, and yet they cared about people more than I did." (pp. 41-42)
Later on in the story, Laura mentions that "I feel like God is after me Don." (p. 52) She says, "I want to believe, but I can't. I hate this." (p. 54)
Miller writes: "I had no explanation for Laura. I don't think there is an explanation. My belief in Jesus did not seem rational or scientific and yet there was nothing I could do to separate myself from this belief. I think Laura was looking for something rational, because she believed that all things that were true were rational. But that isn't the case. Love, for example, is a true emotion, but it is not rational. What I mean is, people actually feel it. I have been in love, plenty of people have been in love, yet love cannot be proved scientifically. Neither can beauty. Light cannot be proved scientifically, and yet we all believe in light and by light see all things. There are plenty of things that are true that don't make sense. I think that one of the problems Laura was having was that she wanted God to make sense. He doesn't. He will make no more sense to me than I will make sense to an ant." (p. 54)
The chapter ends with the following e-mail that Laura sends him:
Dearest friend Don,
I read through the book of Matthew this evening. I was up all night. I couldn't stop reading so I read through Mark. This Jesus of yours is either a madman or the Son of God. Somewhere in the middle of Mark I realized He was the Son of God. I suppose this makes me a Christian. I feel much better now. Come to campus tonight and let's get coffee.
Much love,
Laura (p. 58)
During my lifetime, I've been a part of the chain of contacts that is a part of some people coming to faith in Christ, or coming back to Him. This is great. But I want to see much more of this during this current chapter of ministry here.
I came across chapters 4 and 5, which tell of Miller's involvement at Reed College in Portland, Oregon. The Pacific Northwest is known as being one of the most unchurched regions of the U.S. In this way, it is like France and a lot of Western Europe.
Miller describes Reed College in the following way: "Some of the Christians in Portland talk about Reed College as if it is hades. They say the students at Reed are pagans, heathens in heart. Reed was recently selected by the Princeton Review as the college where students are most likely to ignore God. It is true. It is a godless place, known for existential experimentation of all sorts. There are no rules at Reed, and many of the students there have issues with authority. Reed students, however, are also brilliant. Loren Pope, former education editor for the New York Times, calls Reed 'the most intellectual college in the country.' Reed receives more awards and fellowships, per capita, than any other American college and has entertained more than thirty Rhodes scholars." (p. 17)
He then tells of his taking courses there, making friends there, and even of some people finding Christ there. I appreciate how he sees people there as people, rather than simply evangelism targets. Concerning a classmate named Laura, he writes: "Laura and I didn't talk much about religion after that. She had dreams of becoming a writer, so we talked about literature. She would give me articles or essays she had written. I ate them. They were terrific. It was very much an honor to even know her. I could sense very deeply that God wanted a relationship with every human being, but with Laura I could feel God's urgency. Laura, however, wanted little to do with it. She never brought up the idea of God, so I didn't either." (p. 41)
Miller was stimulated by this environment. He writes: "I felt alive at Reed...As odd as it sounds, having grown up in church, I fell in love with the campus. The students were brilliant and engaged. I was fed there, stimulated, and impassioned. I felt connected to the raging current of thoughts and ideas. And what's more, I had more significant spiritual experiences at Reed College than I ever had at church....Interacting with these guys showed me how shallow and self-centered my Christian faith had bcome. Many of the students hated the very idea of God, and yet they cared about people more than I did." (pp. 41-42)
Later on in the story, Laura mentions that "I feel like God is after me Don." (p. 52) She says, "I want to believe, but I can't. I hate this." (p. 54)
Miller writes: "I had no explanation for Laura. I don't think there is an explanation. My belief in Jesus did not seem rational or scientific and yet there was nothing I could do to separate myself from this belief. I think Laura was looking for something rational, because she believed that all things that were true were rational. But that isn't the case. Love, for example, is a true emotion, but it is not rational. What I mean is, people actually feel it. I have been in love, plenty of people have been in love, yet love cannot be proved scientifically. Neither can beauty. Light cannot be proved scientifically, and yet we all believe in light and by light see all things. There are plenty of things that are true that don't make sense. I think that one of the problems Laura was having was that she wanted God to make sense. He doesn't. He will make no more sense to me than I will make sense to an ant." (p. 54)
The chapter ends with the following e-mail that Laura sends him:
Dearest friend Don,
I read through the book of Matthew this evening. I was up all night. I couldn't stop reading so I read through Mark. This Jesus of yours is either a madman or the Son of God. Somewhere in the middle of Mark I realized He was the Son of God. I suppose this makes me a Christian. I feel much better now. Come to campus tonight and let's get coffee.
Much love,
Laura (p. 58)
During my lifetime, I've been a part of the chain of contacts that is a part of some people coming to faith in Christ, or coming back to Him. This is great. But I want to see much more of this during this current chapter of ministry here.
mardi 27 novembre 2007
School choices for next year for son #1
This Thursday we have an interview at a private Catholic school in our neighborhood for our son.
I can't believe that he's already in his 3rd and normally final year at his French preschool/kindergarten. 3 years ago at this time, we were working through school choices for him. We're thankful for how God led us to his particular school, which our older daughter also is attending for her 2nd year. Our younger daughter, if she makes the age cut off, may attend there next year. She's not even 2, yet has decided to potty train herself this week. She's done everything earlier than her 2 older siblings, so this shouldn't be surprising, but still is.
Our neighborhood doesn't have the reputation for the best public schools in Paris. We have a couple of options based on where we live. One is known for its lack of discipline, so that one isn't a good option. Another one seems to be good, according to several of our neighbors whose kids go there.
One appealing point of the Catholic school is that a number of the kids from our kids' preschool/kindergarden attend there. In that way, our son would already know some of the other kids there. This would also help us to continue with some of the relationships that have been built during the last couple of years.
While at the pool today, he was playing with a girl who is in her first year at this Catholic school. Her father asked when our interview was. While in the lockerroom afterwards, we ran into another girl from our preschool/kindergarden who is also now at this school.
Honestly, until the pool today, I was fairly impartial to both the Catholic school and the good public one in our neighborhood. But after these 2 encounters at the pool, I lean much stronger toward the Catholic school.
We'll see how the interview goes on Thursday and trust God to intervene if this isn't the best place for our kids to attend. But my wife and I plan to invest ourselves in whatever school(s) our kids attend. That is a primary way that we seek to be salt and light in our neighborhood.
I can't believe that he's already in his 3rd and normally final year at his French preschool/kindergarten. 3 years ago at this time, we were working through school choices for him. We're thankful for how God led us to his particular school, which our older daughter also is attending for her 2nd year. Our younger daughter, if she makes the age cut off, may attend there next year. She's not even 2, yet has decided to potty train herself this week. She's done everything earlier than her 2 older siblings, so this shouldn't be surprising, but still is.
Our neighborhood doesn't have the reputation for the best public schools in Paris. We have a couple of options based on where we live. One is known for its lack of discipline, so that one isn't a good option. Another one seems to be good, according to several of our neighbors whose kids go there.
One appealing point of the Catholic school is that a number of the kids from our kids' preschool/kindergarden attend there. In that way, our son would already know some of the other kids there. This would also help us to continue with some of the relationships that have been built during the last couple of years.
While at the pool today, he was playing with a girl who is in her first year at this Catholic school. Her father asked when our interview was. While in the lockerroom afterwards, we ran into another girl from our preschool/kindergarden who is also now at this school.
Honestly, until the pool today, I was fairly impartial to both the Catholic school and the good public one in our neighborhood. But after these 2 encounters at the pool, I lean much stronger toward the Catholic school.
We'll see how the interview goes on Thursday and trust God to intervene if this isn't the best place for our kids to attend. But my wife and I plan to invest ourselves in whatever school(s) our kids attend. That is a primary way that we seek to be salt and light in our neighborhood.
vendredi 23 novembre 2007
Desire: the Journey We Must Take to Find the Life God Offers
During the last couple of weeks, I've been able to read more than I have since our first child arrived nearly 6 years ago. Reading is a joy for me and something that I saw modelled in my mother, who usually had a book going all the time. During my single days here, I used to read much more. One year I read 50 books, nearly a book a week. But the tyranny of the urgent needs of 1, then 2, then 3 kids has made it much harder to find the time.
While in Colorado last week, I picked up John Eldredge's book Desire: The Journey We Must Take to Find the Life God Offers (Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 2007). It's the 3rd book I've seen recently that deals with the theme of "desire." The other two are by Erwin McManus and Bill Johnson. All 3 books see "desire" as generally something positive that we need to consider and follow. In some camps of Christianity, desire is looked at at something very bad that we should avoid. But these books encourage embracing our desire as something that God has allowed and takes pleasure in.
This goes against a syncretism of Christianity with Buddhism, whose goal is to avoid all desire. It is easy to see how the modern Church has bought into this mindset. Our prayers and lives can be passionness because they are done out of duty.
While in Colorado last week, I picked up John Eldredge's book Desire: The Journey We Must Take to Find the Life God Offers (Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 2007). It's the 3rd book I've seen recently that deals with the theme of "desire." The other two are by Erwin McManus and Bill Johnson. All 3 books see "desire" as generally something positive that we need to consider and follow. In some camps of Christianity, desire is looked at at something very bad that we should avoid. But these books encourage embracing our desire as something that God has allowed and takes pleasure in.
This goes against a syncretism of Christianity with Buddhism, whose goal is to avoid all desire. It is easy to see how the modern Church has bought into this mindset. Our prayers and lives can be passionness because they are done out of duty.
jeudi 22 novembre 2007
A Community of Brokenness
I think that this will be my last blog entry about Gerald Sittser's most excellent book A Grace Disguised: How the Soul Grows Through Loss. Chapter 13 is titled "a community of brokenness."
He writes: "Loss does not have to isolate us or make us feel lonely. Though it is a solitary experience we must face alone, loss is also a common experience that can lead us to community. It can create a community of brokenness. We must enter the darkness of loss alone, but once there we will find others with whom we can share life together." (p. 154)
"Community does not simply happen spontaneously, except in rare circumstances when conditions are right...When people suffering loss do find community, it comes as a result of conscious choices they and other people make." (p. 159)
"First of all, it requires a choice on the part of those who want to provide community for suffering friends. They must be willing to be changed by someone else's loss, though they might not have been directly affected by it. Good comfort requires empathy, forces adjustments, and sometimes mandates huge sacrifices. Comforters must be prepared to let the pain of another become their own and so let it transform them. They will never be the same after that decision. Their own world will be permanently altered by the presence of one who suffers. It will bring an end to detachment, control, and convenience. It will prevent them from ever thinking again that the world is a safe place full of nice people, positive experiences, and favorable circumstances." (p. 159)
"The experience of community has taught me another lesson as well. Not only must people who want to comfort someone in pain make a decision to do so, but people who need the comfort must also decide to receive it. Their responsibility will include facing the darkness with courage, learning new skills, and striving for mutuality in friendships. In other words, they must take command of their lives as much as they are able to, in spite of their distress and brokenness." (pp. 162-163)
"I realized soon after the accident that I had another significant responsibility to fulfill too, and that concerned my role in the community as an interpreter of my experience. Friends wanted to listen and empathize; but they also wanted to learn to reflect on the universal nature of suffering, and to make meaning for their own lives. So we became a reflective community together...They were willing to be changed; I was willing to exercise responsibility. They never felt manipulated and used; I never felt patronized and pressured. The result was a mutuality in our relationships. All of us contributed, and all of us gained." (p. 164)
"The result was love. We learned to love more deeply. This was especially, though not exclusively, true for me. I hesitated at first to risk loving again. There was a protective reflex in me that made me want to turn my back on everyone, even my own family. My experience taught me that loss reduces people to a state of almost total brokenness and vulnerability. I did not simply feel raw pain; I was raw pain. Consequently, I usually found myself on the receiving end of love and friendship. Eventually I had to decide, however, to become a contributing member of the community once again, not only willing to receive but also to give love." (p. 164)
"There is an ominous dimension to love, especially after loss. If loss increases our capacity for love, then an increased capacity for love will only make us feel greater sorrow when suffering strikes again. There is no simple solution to this dilemma. Choosing to withdraw from people and to protect the self diminishes the soul; choosing to love even more deeply than before ensures that we will suffer again, for the choice to love requires the courage to grieve. We know that loss is not a once-in-a-lifetime experience. So naturally we dread the losses that loom ahead. But the greater loss is not suffering another loss itself but refusing to love again, for that may lead to the death of the soul." (p. 166)
He writes: "Loss does not have to isolate us or make us feel lonely. Though it is a solitary experience we must face alone, loss is also a common experience that can lead us to community. It can create a community of brokenness. We must enter the darkness of loss alone, but once there we will find others with whom we can share life together." (p. 154)
"Community does not simply happen spontaneously, except in rare circumstances when conditions are right...When people suffering loss do find community, it comes as a result of conscious choices they and other people make." (p. 159)
"First of all, it requires a choice on the part of those who want to provide community for suffering friends. They must be willing to be changed by someone else's loss, though they might not have been directly affected by it. Good comfort requires empathy, forces adjustments, and sometimes mandates huge sacrifices. Comforters must be prepared to let the pain of another become their own and so let it transform them. They will never be the same after that decision. Their own world will be permanently altered by the presence of one who suffers. It will bring an end to detachment, control, and convenience. It will prevent them from ever thinking again that the world is a safe place full of nice people, positive experiences, and favorable circumstances." (p. 159)
"The experience of community has taught me another lesson as well. Not only must people who want to comfort someone in pain make a decision to do so, but people who need the comfort must also decide to receive it. Their responsibility will include facing the darkness with courage, learning new skills, and striving for mutuality in friendships. In other words, they must take command of their lives as much as they are able to, in spite of their distress and brokenness." (pp. 162-163)
"I realized soon after the accident that I had another significant responsibility to fulfill too, and that concerned my role in the community as an interpreter of my experience. Friends wanted to listen and empathize; but they also wanted to learn to reflect on the universal nature of suffering, and to make meaning for their own lives. So we became a reflective community together...They were willing to be changed; I was willing to exercise responsibility. They never felt manipulated and used; I never felt patronized and pressured. The result was a mutuality in our relationships. All of us contributed, and all of us gained." (p. 164)
"The result was love. We learned to love more deeply. This was especially, though not exclusively, true for me. I hesitated at first to risk loving again. There was a protective reflex in me that made me want to turn my back on everyone, even my own family. My experience taught me that loss reduces people to a state of almost total brokenness and vulnerability. I did not simply feel raw pain; I was raw pain. Consequently, I usually found myself on the receiving end of love and friendship. Eventually I had to decide, however, to become a contributing member of the community once again, not only willing to receive but also to give love." (p. 164)
"There is an ominous dimension to love, especially after loss. If loss increases our capacity for love, then an increased capacity for love will only make us feel greater sorrow when suffering strikes again. There is no simple solution to this dilemma. Choosing to withdraw from people and to protect the self diminishes the soul; choosing to love even more deeply than before ensures that we will suffer again, for the choice to love requires the courage to grieve. We know that loss is not a once-in-a-lifetime experience. So naturally we dread the losses that loom ahead. But the greater loss is not suffering another loss itself but refusing to love again, for that may lead to the death of the soul." (p. 166)
mercredi 21 novembre 2007
The Absence of God
I finished reading Gerald Sittser's A Grace Disguised: How the Soul Grows Through Loss today. This is definitely a valuable book that I will come back to...and have a hard time lending out my copy, as it is well marked up.
Chapter 11 is titled "The Absence of God." This raises up the question of God's sovereignty. He writes: "Since suffering made belief in God more difficult, I decided to investigate the implications of unbelief. What would atheism do for me in my suffering that belief in God did not do or could not do?...If there were no God, there appears to be no ultimate reason why we should feel one way or the other, since emotions like grief or happiness have no grounding in a greater, objective reality outside the self. In an atheistic worldview, it becomes all but impossible to establish the absoluteness of truth and falsehood, or good and evil, or right and wrong...I realize that other people who have suffered loss have come to different conclusions from mine, and they are just as sincere and serious as I am. Some believe that we know good and bad through the operation of natural law, which governs the moral universe in the same way it governs the physical universe. Others believe that we have knowledge of good and bad through the influence of social convention. But these options seem to beg the question. Where did natural law originate? What is the source of social convention? These questions push me away from atheism and toward God...The implications of atheism are therefore intolerable to me. However difficult belief in God can sometimes be, belief in atheism is more difficult still." (pp. 138-140)
Sittser mentions 3 discoveries that helped him in the course of his wrestling with his tragedy.
"The first perspective has to do with an alternative way of understanding God's sovereignty. Prior to the accident...I was inclined to believe that God simply pulled the strings and manipulated the events of our lives as if we were marionettes on a string and God was a puppeteer controlling us completely...Since the accident I have been to question this perspective. ..My understanding of God's sovereignty...includes rather than nullifies human freedom...I can affirm God's sovereigny and still be a person instead of a puppet...Belief in God's sovereignty thus gives us the security of knowing God is in control, but it also assigns us the responsibility of using our freedom to make wise choices and to remain faithful to him. It assures us that God is transcendent without canceling out the important role we play. God's sovereignty allows us to believe that he is bigger than our circumstances and will make our lives better through those circumstances." (pp. 141-142)
"The second perspective concerns the peculiar relationship that exists between God's sovereignty and the Incarnation. God's sovereignty means that God is in ultimate control of everything. The Incarnation means that God came into the world as a vulnerable human being...God is therefore not simply some distant being who controls the world by a mysterious power. God came all the way to us and lived among us...The God I know has experienced pain and therefore understands my pain...No matter how deep the pit into which I descend, I keep finding God there. He is not aloof from my suffering but draws near to me when I suffer. He is vulnerable to pain, quick to shed tears, and acquainted with grief. God is a suffering Sovereign who feels the sorrow of the world...God understands suffering because God suffered." (pp. 142-143)
"The final perspective concerns the role of faith, whcih seems to be required of anyone who wants to know God...It is possible to see the natural world in a way that excludes God, to view history as empty of divine involvement, and to interpret Jesus as simply a great moral teacher, a radical revolutionary, or a deranged fanatic. We can live normal and productive lives on earth and dismiss God. We can choose to be atheists and get away with it." (p. 143)
"The point is that we have a choice. More than anything God covets our love. But real love can never be forced. Freedom is what makes love possible in the first place. Thatis why God will never coerce us into a relationship. Faith allows us to choose God in freedom. It is possible to believe in him, but it is also possible not to believe in him. If we believe, it is because we have chosen to believe, although even the opportunity to make a choice in itself is a divine gift." (pp. 143-144)
"Loss may call the existence of God into question. Pain seems to conceal him from us, making it hard for us to believe that there could be a God in the midst of our suffering. In our pain we are tempted to reject God, yet for some reason we hesitate to take that course of actions. So we ponder and pray. We move toward God, then away fromhim. We wrestle in our souls to believe. Finally we choose God, and in the choosing we learn that he has already chosen us and has already been drawing us to him. We approach him in our freedom, having minds that can doubt as well as believe, hearts that can feel sorrow as well as joy, and wills that can choose against God as well as for him. We decide to be in a relationship with God. And then we discover that God, in his sovereignty, has already decided to be in a relationship with us." (p. 144)
Chapter 11 is titled "The Absence of God." This raises up the question of God's sovereignty. He writes: "Since suffering made belief in God more difficult, I decided to investigate the implications of unbelief. What would atheism do for me in my suffering that belief in God did not do or could not do?...If there were no God, there appears to be no ultimate reason why we should feel one way or the other, since emotions like grief or happiness have no grounding in a greater, objective reality outside the self. In an atheistic worldview, it becomes all but impossible to establish the absoluteness of truth and falsehood, or good and evil, or right and wrong...I realize that other people who have suffered loss have come to different conclusions from mine, and they are just as sincere and serious as I am. Some believe that we know good and bad through the operation of natural law, which governs the moral universe in the same way it governs the physical universe. Others believe that we have knowledge of good and bad through the influence of social convention. But these options seem to beg the question. Where did natural law originate? What is the source of social convention? These questions push me away from atheism and toward God...The implications of atheism are therefore intolerable to me. However difficult belief in God can sometimes be, belief in atheism is more difficult still." (pp. 138-140)
Sittser mentions 3 discoveries that helped him in the course of his wrestling with his tragedy.
"The first perspective has to do with an alternative way of understanding God's sovereignty. Prior to the accident...I was inclined to believe that God simply pulled the strings and manipulated the events of our lives as if we were marionettes on a string and God was a puppeteer controlling us completely...Since the accident I have been to question this perspective. ..My understanding of God's sovereignty...includes rather than nullifies human freedom...I can affirm God's sovereigny and still be a person instead of a puppet...Belief in God's sovereignty thus gives us the security of knowing God is in control, but it also assigns us the responsibility of using our freedom to make wise choices and to remain faithful to him. It assures us that God is transcendent without canceling out the important role we play. God's sovereignty allows us to believe that he is bigger than our circumstances and will make our lives better through those circumstances." (pp. 141-142)
"The second perspective concerns the peculiar relationship that exists between God's sovereignty and the Incarnation. God's sovereignty means that God is in ultimate control of everything. The Incarnation means that God came into the world as a vulnerable human being...God is therefore not simply some distant being who controls the world by a mysterious power. God came all the way to us and lived among us...The God I know has experienced pain and therefore understands my pain...No matter how deep the pit into which I descend, I keep finding God there. He is not aloof from my suffering but draws near to me when I suffer. He is vulnerable to pain, quick to shed tears, and acquainted with grief. God is a suffering Sovereign who feels the sorrow of the world...God understands suffering because God suffered." (pp. 142-143)
"The final perspective concerns the role of faith, whcih seems to be required of anyone who wants to know God...It is possible to see the natural world in a way that excludes God, to view history as empty of divine involvement, and to interpret Jesus as simply a great moral teacher, a radical revolutionary, or a deranged fanatic. We can live normal and productive lives on earth and dismiss God. We can choose to be atheists and get away with it." (p. 143)
"The point is that we have a choice. More than anything God covets our love. But real love can never be forced. Freedom is what makes love possible in the first place. Thatis why God will never coerce us into a relationship. Faith allows us to choose God in freedom. It is possible to believe in him, but it is also possible not to believe in him. If we believe, it is because we have chosen to believe, although even the opportunity to make a choice in itself is a divine gift." (pp. 143-144)
"Loss may call the existence of God into question. Pain seems to conceal him from us, making it hard for us to believe that there could be a God in the midst of our suffering. In our pain we are tempted to reject God, yet for some reason we hesitate to take that course of actions. So we ponder and pray. We move toward God, then away fromhim. We wrestle in our souls to believe. Finally we choose God, and in the choosing we learn that he has already chosen us and has already been drawing us to him. We approach him in our freedom, having minds that can doubt as well as believe, hearts that can feel sorrow as well as joy, and wills that can choose against God as well as for him. We decide to be in a relationship with God. And then we discover that God, in his sovereignty, has already decided to be in a relationship with us." (p. 144)
mardi 20 novembre 2007
Why NOT me?
I was struck today by this title (chapter 9) of Gerald Sittser's A Grace Disguised: How the Soul Grows Through Loss.
He writes: "No one is safe, because the universe is hardly a safe place. It is often mean, unpredictable, and unjust. Loss has little to do with our notions of fairness. Some people live long and happily, though they deserve to suffer. Others endure one loss after another, though they deserve to be blessed. Loss is no more a respecter of persons and position than good fortune is. There is often no rhyme or reason to the misery of some and to the happiness of others." (p. 107)
He continues: "Loss deprives us of control. Cancer ravages, violence erupts, divorce devastates, unemployment frustrates, and death srikes--often with little warning. Suddenly we are forced to face ur limitations squarely. Our expectations blow up in our face. We wonder what has gone wrong. We resent the intrusion, the inconvenience, the derailment. It is not something we were planning on! 'Why me?' we ask." (p. 108)
But his 3 years of reflection after the tragic car accident led Sittser to believe that the better question is not "Why me?", but rather "why NOT me?" This is closer to the reality that most people live. The accident initiated him into a "fellowship of sufferings" that spans the world.
He writes: If I have learned anything over the past three years, it is that I desperately need and desire the grace of God. Grace has come to me in ways I did not expect. Friends have remained loyal and supportive, in spite of my strugles. Quietness, contentment, and simplicity have gradually found a place in the center of my soul, though I have never been busier. I go to bed at night grateful for the events of the day, which I try to review and reflect on until I fall asleep, and I wake up in the morning eager to begin a new day. My life is rich and productive, like Iowa farmhand in the late summer. (p. 114)
He writes: "God, spare us a life of fairness! To live in a world with grace is better by far than to live in a world of absolute fairness. A fair world may make the life nice for us, but only as nice as we are. We may get what we deserve, but I wonder how much that is and whether or not we would really be satisfied. A world with grace will give us more than we deserve. It will give us life, even in our suffering." (p. 115)
He writes: "No one is safe, because the universe is hardly a safe place. It is often mean, unpredictable, and unjust. Loss has little to do with our notions of fairness. Some people live long and happily, though they deserve to suffer. Others endure one loss after another, though they deserve to be blessed. Loss is no more a respecter of persons and position than good fortune is. There is often no rhyme or reason to the misery of some and to the happiness of others." (p. 107)
He continues: "Loss deprives us of control. Cancer ravages, violence erupts, divorce devastates, unemployment frustrates, and death srikes--often with little warning. Suddenly we are forced to face ur limitations squarely. Our expectations blow up in our face. We wonder what has gone wrong. We resent the intrusion, the inconvenience, the derailment. It is not something we were planning on! 'Why me?' we ask." (p. 108)
But his 3 years of reflection after the tragic car accident led Sittser to believe that the better question is not "Why me?", but rather "why NOT me?" This is closer to the reality that most people live. The accident initiated him into a "fellowship of sufferings" that spans the world.
He writes: If I have learned anything over the past three years, it is that I desperately need and desire the grace of God. Grace has come to me in ways I did not expect. Friends have remained loyal and supportive, in spite of my strugles. Quietness, contentment, and simplicity have gradually found a place in the center of my soul, though I have never been busier. I go to bed at night grateful for the events of the day, which I try to review and reflect on until I fall asleep, and I wake up in the morning eager to begin a new day. My life is rich and productive, like Iowa farmhand in the late summer. (p. 114)
He writes: "God, spare us a life of fairness! To live in a world with grace is better by far than to live in a world of absolute fairness. A fair world may make the life nice for us, but only as nice as we are. We may get what we deserve, but I wonder how much that is and whether or not we would really be satisfied. A world with grace will give us more than we deserve. It will give us life, even in our suffering." (p. 115)
lundi 19 novembre 2007
A Grace Disguised: How the soul grows through loss
7+ years ago, my mentor Jerry Root recommended Gerald Sittser's book A Grace Disguised: How the Soul Grows Through Loss (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1995). This book sat on my bookshelves until my mom died. I grabbed it for the plane flight and started reading it somewhere over the Atlantic on the way to Colorado.
While I've only read half of it, this half has been very helpful. Sittser tragically lost his mother, wife, and 4 year old daughter after a car accident in which his vehicle was hit by a drunk driver. I think he wrote the book 4 years after the accident.
In his preface, he wrote: "It is not, therefore, the experience of loss tha becomes the defining moment of our lives, for that is as inevitable as death, which is the last loss awaiting us all. It is how we respond to loss that matters. That response will largely determine the quality, the direction, and the impact of our lives...The book is intended to show how it is possible to live in and be enlarged by loss, even as we continue to experience it." (pp. 9-10)
In his chapter "Darkness Closes In," he writes: "I had the power to choose the direction my life would head, even if the only choice open to me, at least initially, was either to run from the loss or to face it as best I could. Since I knew that darkness was inevitable and unavoidable, I decided from that point to walk into the darkness rather than try to outrun it, to let my experience of loss take me on a journey wherever it would lead, and to allow myself to be transformed by my suffering rather than to think I could somehow avoid it. I chose to turn toward the pain, however falteringly, and to yield to the loss, though I had no idea at the time what that would mean...I did not get over the loss of my loved ones; rather, I absorbed teh loss into my life, like soil receives decaying matter, until it became a part of who I am. Sorrow took up permanent residence in my soul and enlarged it. I learned gradually that the deeper we plunge into suffering, the deeper we can enter into a new, and different, life--a life no worse than before and sometimes better. A willingness to face the loss and to enter into the darkness is the first step we must take. Like all first steps, it is probably the most difficult and takes the most time...I learned to live and mourn simultaneously." (pp. 33-34, 37, 42)
While I've only read half of it, this half has been very helpful. Sittser tragically lost his mother, wife, and 4 year old daughter after a car accident in which his vehicle was hit by a drunk driver. I think he wrote the book 4 years after the accident.
In his preface, he wrote: "It is not, therefore, the experience of loss tha becomes the defining moment of our lives, for that is as inevitable as death, which is the last loss awaiting us all. It is how we respond to loss that matters. That response will largely determine the quality, the direction, and the impact of our lives...The book is intended to show how it is possible to live in and be enlarged by loss, even as we continue to experience it." (pp. 9-10)
In his chapter "Darkness Closes In," he writes: "I had the power to choose the direction my life would head, even if the only choice open to me, at least initially, was either to run from the loss or to face it as best I could. Since I knew that darkness was inevitable and unavoidable, I decided from that point to walk into the darkness rather than try to outrun it, to let my experience of loss take me on a journey wherever it would lead, and to allow myself to be transformed by my suffering rather than to think I could somehow avoid it. I chose to turn toward the pain, however falteringly, and to yield to the loss, though I had no idea at the time what that would mean...I did not get over the loss of my loved ones; rather, I absorbed teh loss into my life, like soil receives decaying matter, until it became a part of who I am. Sorrow took up permanent residence in my soul and enlarged it. I learned gradually that the deeper we plunge into suffering, the deeper we can enter into a new, and different, life--a life no worse than before and sometimes better. A willingness to face the loss and to enter into the darkness is the first step we must take. Like all first steps, it is probably the most difficult and takes the most time...I learned to live and mourn simultaneously." (pp. 33-34, 37, 42)
dimanche 18 novembre 2007
Mourning: Jewish style
3 years ago I was given the book Mudhouse Sabbath by Lauren Winner (Brewster, MA: Paraclete Press, 2003). Raised in the Jewish faith tradition, she became a Christian while at university in NYC. She wrote this book 7 years after her conversion to Christianity. While happy to be a Christian, she wrote: "Still, I miss my Jewish ways. I miss the rhythms and routines that drew the sacred down into the everyday. I miss Sabbaths on which I actually rested. I have even found that I miss the drudgery of keeping kosher. I miss the work these practices effected between me and God." (p. viii)
I remember being fascinated with her chapter 3 titled "mourning," which is avelut in Hebrew.
She writes: "Judaism understands mourning as a discipline, one in which the mourner is not only allowed, but expected, to be engaged. Rather than asking the mourner to paper over his grief, the Jewish community supports him in mourning. (My priest, who is always urging me to pray the despairing Book of Psalms, says that Judaism mourns well in part because Jews understand lament. 'Christians,' he says 'do not know how to lament.'") (p. 28)
She continues: "Jewish bereavement marks the days, and then the months, and then all the years after a death. The first space, called animut (literally "burial"), comprises the days after death and before burial...Then the counting starts. The next demarked days are shiva or 'seven,' the first week after burial. In that first week, mourners 'sit shiva.'...The next unit of mourning time is shloshim, thirty, the first month after death...It is the edging back to worldly concerns and quotidian rhythms after the intense cocoon of shiva...After this thirty days comes the ful year of mourning, a period designated especially for those who mourn their parents."
She continues: "This calendar of bereavement recognizes the slow way that mourning works, the long time it takes a grave to cool, slower and longer than our zip-zoom Internet-and-fast-food society can easily accommodate. Longer after your friends and acquaintances have stopped paying attention, after they have forgotten to ask how you are and pray for you and hold your hand, you are still in a place of ebbing sadness. Mourning plateaus gradually, and the diminishing of intensity is both recognized and nurtured by the different spaces the Jewish mourning rituals create--the harrowing shock of animut, the pain of shiva, the stepping into life and world of shloshim. (The rabbis would be quick to point out that we do not observe the calendar of mourning because it is psychologically beneficial, but because it is commanded--and that is true, but why should it be surprising that God commanded something that therapists might now applaud?)" (pp. 33-34)
I remember being fascinated with her chapter 3 titled "mourning," which is avelut in Hebrew.
She writes: "Judaism understands mourning as a discipline, one in which the mourner is not only allowed, but expected, to be engaged. Rather than asking the mourner to paper over his grief, the Jewish community supports him in mourning. (My priest, who is always urging me to pray the despairing Book of Psalms, says that Judaism mourns well in part because Jews understand lament. 'Christians,' he says 'do not know how to lament.'") (p. 28)
She continues: "Jewish bereavement marks the days, and then the months, and then all the years after a death. The first space, called animut (literally "burial"), comprises the days after death and before burial...Then the counting starts. The next demarked days are shiva or 'seven,' the first week after burial. In that first week, mourners 'sit shiva.'...The next unit of mourning time is shloshim, thirty, the first month after death...It is the edging back to worldly concerns and quotidian rhythms after the intense cocoon of shiva...After this thirty days comes the ful year of mourning, a period designated especially for those who mourn their parents."
She continues: "This calendar of bereavement recognizes the slow way that mourning works, the long time it takes a grave to cool, slower and longer than our zip-zoom Internet-and-fast-food society can easily accommodate. Longer after your friends and acquaintances have stopped paying attention, after they have forgotten to ask how you are and pray for you and hold your hand, you are still in a place of ebbing sadness. Mourning plateaus gradually, and the diminishing of intensity is both recognized and nurtured by the different spaces the Jewish mourning rituals create--the harrowing shock of animut, the pain of shiva, the stepping into life and world of shloshim. (The rabbis would be quick to point out that we do not observe the calendar of mourning because it is psychologically beneficial, but because it is commanded--and that is true, but why should it be surprising that God commanded something that therapists might now applaud?)" (pp. 33-34)
samedi 17 novembre 2007
The power of compassionate hospitality
Yesterday morning I returned to Paris after a long day of travel on Thursday. It is good to be back home with my wife and family.
I can't believe that it was only last Saturday when I flew from France to Colorado. It was a very full time out there. In fact, the last 2 weeks seem to have gone at a slower time schedule than usual. It's strange.
One impressive thing during my time stateside was the compassionate hospitality that was shown toward my family, both in Colorado and in the U.S.
In Colorado, the folk at my parents' and brother's church have really come through in discrete, yet helpful ways. The church has some type of organized meal program that covered nearly every meal that I was there. There were even people not in the program who brought over food as well. When they didn't bring food, there were leftovers from what had been brought over.
Having never lost a close family member before, I was unaware of how this practical expression of compassion is so helpful. My cousins from Nevada and California who attended the memorial service were also impressed by the love shown to the family.
Back in Paris, our friend Alain came through in the clutch, as did Antoinette, Nathalie, and Martine. Their presence at different times was a great help to my wife and kids.
I am learning a lot about the grieving process through this whole situation. It has brought about a fatigue that I've never felt before, like going through a fog. But the kind words of encouragement expressed by friends from around the world have been appreciated.
I can't believe that it was only last Saturday when I flew from France to Colorado. It was a very full time out there. In fact, the last 2 weeks seem to have gone at a slower time schedule than usual. It's strange.
One impressive thing during my time stateside was the compassionate hospitality that was shown toward my family, both in Colorado and in the U.S.
In Colorado, the folk at my parents' and brother's church have really come through in discrete, yet helpful ways. The church has some type of organized meal program that covered nearly every meal that I was there. There were even people not in the program who brought over food as well. When they didn't bring food, there were leftovers from what had been brought over.
Having never lost a close family member before, I was unaware of how this practical expression of compassion is so helpful. My cousins from Nevada and California who attended the memorial service were also impressed by the love shown to the family.
Back in Paris, our friend Alain came through in the clutch, as did Antoinette, Nathalie, and Martine. Their presence at different times was a great help to my wife and kids.
I am learning a lot about the grieving process through this whole situation. It has brought about a fatigue that I've never felt before, like going through a fog. But the kind words of encouragement expressed by friends from around the world have been appreciated.
lundi 12 novembre 2007
Memorial service--Follow up
It's pretty late, but my mind is still semi conscious. Hopefully I'll sleep in tomorrow.
The whole family went to the 11:00 a.m. worship service at Eastern Hills Comm. Church. My row had my dad, me, and my cousins Al (formerly "Freddie") and Debbie. They came from California and Nevada to be part of the memorial events. These are 2 of the 3 children of my dad's brother. We haven't spent much time together throughout our lifetimes, so it was good to catch up during the last 24 hours. In this way, mom's death helped bring us together.
After the service, the church kindly provided pizza and drinks. Throughout the day, the people at the church were very generous and serving. That in itself speaks highly of EHCC.
I found the service to be more happy than sad and more of a celebration of her life than a mourning of her not being here. The hope of seeing her again with her new resurrection body is comforting and knowing that she's not suffering now.
My dad, brother, and I each gave tributes to her. I focused on more how she used to be, while my brother did some on this, as well as about the last few hours that he spent with her before she passed away. Her last four breaths were increasingly powerful, suggesting that she was seeing something.
There were a number of special songs, including a medley of Jesus Loves me songs and the more recent song "I Can Only Imagine." Steve from the church took some photos that my brother and sister-in-law gave him and came up with a beautiful slide show to the Amy Grant version of "When the Roll Is Called Up Yonder," the last song played before she passed away. Sisters Darrah and Spenser beautifully danced to the hymn "Fly to Jesus." Pastor Bob did an excellent job leading the service and adding in humor at appropriate times. I liked how he ended it with a question about if we were sure that we would enter heaven. He left it open for everyone to reflect upon. All in all, the service lasted about an hour.
There were 2 beautiful cakes and punch for the guests afterwards. While I haven't tallied everyone who was there, I would guess that there were at least 100. Many were friends from the church, including some with the children's ministry that mom helped with, as well as the choir that dad sings in. Members of the prayer team who have been praying with my parents came. Some from the condominium board that dad is a member of attended, as well as mom's hair stylist. Pastor Cal and Gloria, with whom my dad worked with in Michigan nearly 30 years ago, attended. My father-in-law flew down from South Dakota to attend. Darren (a classmate and baseball teammate from NJ) and Claire attended.
There was a basket at the back with sheets with "memories" written at the top that people could write favorite memories of mom on. It was encouraging to read how mom had marked different people's lives. These papers will become special treasures and memories for us.
One memory that I shared publicly today was of our nightly bedtime ritual when my brother and I were little. I think this began because my brother had this fear of going to sleep because he might not wake up the night morning. We would say the short prayer "now I lay me down to sleep...," talk about what happened during the day, as well as about what we would do the next day. We also would get a back rub or back scratch. I think that this exercise helped give us confidence for the future.
The whole family went to the 11:00 a.m. worship service at Eastern Hills Comm. Church. My row had my dad, me, and my cousins Al (formerly "Freddie") and Debbie. They came from California and Nevada to be part of the memorial events. These are 2 of the 3 children of my dad's brother. We haven't spent much time together throughout our lifetimes, so it was good to catch up during the last 24 hours. In this way, mom's death helped bring us together.
After the service, the church kindly provided pizza and drinks. Throughout the day, the people at the church were very generous and serving. That in itself speaks highly of EHCC.
I found the service to be more happy than sad and more of a celebration of her life than a mourning of her not being here. The hope of seeing her again with her new resurrection body is comforting and knowing that she's not suffering now.
My dad, brother, and I each gave tributes to her. I focused on more how she used to be, while my brother did some on this, as well as about the last few hours that he spent with her before she passed away. Her last four breaths were increasingly powerful, suggesting that she was seeing something.
There were a number of special songs, including a medley of Jesus Loves me songs and the more recent song "I Can Only Imagine." Steve from the church took some photos that my brother and sister-in-law gave him and came up with a beautiful slide show to the Amy Grant version of "When the Roll Is Called Up Yonder," the last song played before she passed away. Sisters Darrah and Spenser beautifully danced to the hymn "Fly to Jesus." Pastor Bob did an excellent job leading the service and adding in humor at appropriate times. I liked how he ended it with a question about if we were sure that we would enter heaven. He left it open for everyone to reflect upon. All in all, the service lasted about an hour.
There were 2 beautiful cakes and punch for the guests afterwards. While I haven't tallied everyone who was there, I would guess that there were at least 100. Many were friends from the church, including some with the children's ministry that mom helped with, as well as the choir that dad sings in. Members of the prayer team who have been praying with my parents came. Some from the condominium board that dad is a member of attended, as well as mom's hair stylist. Pastor Cal and Gloria, with whom my dad worked with in Michigan nearly 30 years ago, attended. My father-in-law flew down from South Dakota to attend. Darren (a classmate and baseball teammate from NJ) and Claire attended.
There was a basket at the back with sheets with "memories" written at the top that people could write favorite memories of mom on. It was encouraging to read how mom had marked different people's lives. These papers will become special treasures and memories for us.
One memory that I shared publicly today was of our nightly bedtime ritual when my brother and I were little. I think this began because my brother had this fear of going to sleep because he might not wake up the night morning. We would say the short prayer "now I lay me down to sleep...," talk about what happened during the day, as well as about what we would do the next day. We also would get a back rub or back scratch. I think that this exercise helped give us confidence for the future.
dimanche 11 novembre 2007
Prelude to mom's memorial service
Yesterday I spent all day getting from Paris to Denver. The Paris to Washington D.C. flight left at noon Paris time and took nearly 8 hours. It was strange to travel by myself. I was able to read, watch films, and sleep on the flight: 3 activities that I don't get to usually do when with the whole family. I had a 3 hour layover in D.C. and couldn' t believe how slow getting through customs was there. The Washington to Denver flight was almost another 4 hours. By the time my brother picked me up, I was pretty tired.
I am staying with my dad. We went to bed late and then were both up at 4:00 a.m. (which is noon Paris time). He wanted to talk, so it was good to reminisce some more about mom's life.
He's watching a DVD of the Gaither band right now. Mom loved these crazy videos. It was one way that she could worship.
This morning we'll catch the 11:00 a.m. service at their church, as well as people before and after it. For those who can't make the memorial service, it will be a way to get to talk with them. We'll have some sandwiches before the 1:30 p.m. service.
This past week seems to be going by in slow motion. Different memories of mom continue to be triggered by different events. This morning I remembered how she used to tuck my brother and me into bed.
While on the planes, I talked to some people, but didn't want to get into deep conversation. This seems like a time for reflection and more silence than talking.
One book that I have found helpful the last couple of days is Gerald Sittler's "A Hidden Grace: Growing Through Life's Tragedies." He talks about the best way to handle grief and suffering is to embrace them, rather than fleeing them.
It will be interesting to see how today plays out.
I am staying with my dad. We went to bed late and then were both up at 4:00 a.m. (which is noon Paris time). He wanted to talk, so it was good to reminisce some more about mom's life.
He's watching a DVD of the Gaither band right now. Mom loved these crazy videos. It was one way that she could worship.
This morning we'll catch the 11:00 a.m. service at their church, as well as people before and after it. For those who can't make the memorial service, it will be a way to get to talk with them. We'll have some sandwiches before the 1:30 p.m. service.
This past week seems to be going by in slow motion. Different memories of mom continue to be triggered by different events. This morning I remembered how she used to tuck my brother and me into bed.
While on the planes, I talked to some people, but didn't want to get into deep conversation. This seems like a time for reflection and more silence than talking.
One book that I have found helpful the last couple of days is Gerald Sittler's "A Hidden Grace: Growing Through Life's Tragedies." He talks about the best way to handle grief and suffering is to embrace them, rather than fleeing them.
It will be interesting to see how today plays out.
vendredi 9 novembre 2007
Week of planes, trains, and automobiles
This is a high travel week for me. We returned yesterday from southwestern France by train, then had to take a taxi home because my nearly 6 year old had the flu or something and could barely walk. The taxi ride within Paris during rush hour cost as much as going to the airport during off hours.
Speaking of expensive, I put some gas in the car at 1.469 euros per gallon so there would be plenty for whatever errands my wife needs to run while I'm way. At today's lousy exchange rate, this fill up cost me $8.04 per gallon. It's good we don't drive too often.
Today has been a day of cleaning up after our trip to our friends and me getting ready to fly tomorrow for Denver via Washington D.C. for my mom's memorial service in 2 days. My wife ran 4 loads of laundry and we have it all over our apartment drying tonight.
So many thoughts are floating around my head about my mother and what to say at the Sunday memorial service. In some ways, I've had this eulogy floating around in my mind for a number of years now. But then other reflections and memories have come to mind. I was really blessed to have her for a mom.
Speaking of expensive, I put some gas in the car at 1.469 euros per gallon so there would be plenty for whatever errands my wife needs to run while I'm way. At today's lousy exchange rate, this fill up cost me $8.04 per gallon. It's good we don't drive too often.
Today has been a day of cleaning up after our trip to our friends and me getting ready to fly tomorrow for Denver via Washington D.C. for my mom's memorial service in 2 days. My wife ran 4 loads of laundry and we have it all over our apartment drying tonight.
So many thoughts are floating around my head about my mother and what to say at the Sunday memorial service. In some ways, I've had this eulogy floating around in my mind for a number of years now. But then other reflections and memories have come to mind. I was really blessed to have her for a mom.
mardi 6 novembre 2007
Southwestern France
Since Saturday, we've been in Azereix, a village of 700 people that is near Lourdes and Tarbes. We're staying at the home of Steve and Sarah and their girls Annie and Julia. It's very different here than Paris. We're staying in a house with a big yard. Yesterday David* rode a bike for the first time w/o training wheels, as the yard here has lots of grass, so there is less concern about falling over.
I've been sick a good part of yesterday and today. I think that a lot of stuff caught up with me and forced my system to shut down. I had no energy yesterday and about half of today.
I started sending out e-announcements about my mother's Homegoing. It's been wonderful to read people's comments on how she marked their lives.
A friend named Howard used 100,000 of his frequent flyer miles to cover my round-trip ticket from Paris to Denver. I leave Paris on Saturday Nov 10 and the memorial service is at 1:30 p.m. on Sunday Nov 11 at Eastern Hills Community Church (19697 E. Smoky Hill Rd.Aurora, CO 80015). He said that he was covering my ticket (including $73 in taxes) because of his friendship with our family and because I had kept contact with him. I stayed with him and his family the summer of 1988 just before leaving for France the first time. We lost track of each other for most of the past 19 years, but got back in contact later this year through e-mail and Facebook.
We had back north to Paris on Thursday. It's been a good chance of scenery down here.
I've been sick a good part of yesterday and today. I think that a lot of stuff caught up with me and forced my system to shut down. I had no energy yesterday and about half of today.
I started sending out e-announcements about my mother's Homegoing. It's been wonderful to read people's comments on how she marked their lives.
A friend named Howard used 100,000 of his frequent flyer miles to cover my round-trip ticket from Paris to Denver. I leave Paris on Saturday Nov 10 and the memorial service is at 1:30 p.m. on Sunday Nov 11 at Eastern Hills Community Church (19697 E. Smoky Hill Rd.Aurora, CO 80015). He said that he was covering my ticket (including $73 in taxes) because of his friendship with our family and because I had kept contact with him. I stayed with him and his family the summer of 1988 just before leaving for France the first time. We lost track of each other for most of the past 19 years, but got back in contact later this year through e-mail and Facebook.
We had back north to Paris on Thursday. It's been a good chance of scenery down here.
vendredi 2 novembre 2007
I Can Only Imagine
Tonight I got a call from my sister-in-law. Her voice sounded urgent and she said she was calling from the hospital, as my mother had had a stroke when she was at her Alzheimers day care. She is likely to be going into a hospice unit at the hospital. One doctor estimated that she has from 2 days to 2 weeks.
So I'm pretty mellow and reflective right now. We're basically packed for our trip to southwestern France tomorrow, but I'm not yet ready to go to bed. My dad apparently said that we should go on our vacation, rather than come back now, as there isn't anything that we could do by being in Colorado.
I'm thankful to God that He had me telephone them last night. Our daughter Joy* has asked about swimming again with Grandma Dawn like she did last summer. They talked a little bit about that on the phone.
It feels surrealistic to be in this situation, like a dream. But I've been hoping that God would either heal her body completely from Alzheimers or graduate her to heaven.
After I got the news, the song "I Can Only Imagine" popped into my mind. It gives hope to know that she will graduate to heaven and that it will only be a temporary farewell. She'll have her mind and body back.
Title: MercyMe - I Can Only Imagine lyrics
Artist: MercyMe
I can only imagine
What it will be like
When I walk
By your side
I can only imagine
What my eyes will see
When your face
Is before me
I can only imagine
[Chorus:]Surrounded by Your glory, what will my heart feel
Will I dance for you Jesus or in awe of you be still
Will I stand in your presence or to my knees will I fall
Will I sing hallelujah, will I be able to speak at all
I can only imagine
I can only imagine
When that day comes
And I find myself
Standing in the Son
I can only imagine
When all I will do
Is forever
Forever worship You
I can only imagine
[Chorus]I can only imagine [x2]
I can only imagine
When all I will do Is forever, forever worship you
So I'm pretty mellow and reflective right now. We're basically packed for our trip to southwestern France tomorrow, but I'm not yet ready to go to bed. My dad apparently said that we should go on our vacation, rather than come back now, as there isn't anything that we could do by being in Colorado.
I'm thankful to God that He had me telephone them last night. Our daughter Joy* has asked about swimming again with Grandma Dawn like she did last summer. They talked a little bit about that on the phone.
It feels surrealistic to be in this situation, like a dream. But I've been hoping that God would either heal her body completely from Alzheimers or graduate her to heaven.
After I got the news, the song "I Can Only Imagine" popped into my mind. It gives hope to know that she will graduate to heaven and that it will only be a temporary farewell. She'll have her mind and body back.
Title: MercyMe - I Can Only Imagine lyrics
Artist: MercyMe
I can only imagine
What it will be like
When I walk
By your side
I can only imagine
What my eyes will see
When your face
Is before me
I can only imagine
[Chorus:]Surrounded by Your glory, what will my heart feel
Will I dance for you Jesus or in awe of you be still
Will I stand in your presence or to my knees will I fall
Will I sing hallelujah, will I be able to speak at all
I can only imagine
I can only imagine
When that day comes
And I find myself
Standing in the Son
I can only imagine
When all I will do
Is forever
Forever worship You
I can only imagine
[Chorus]I can only imagine [x2]
I can only imagine
When all I will do Is forever, forever worship you
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