condition of the heart

My father had a heart attack Tuesday morning. at 5:45 in the morning he woke my mom up to call 911. he eats well; the idea of eating white bread or even white rice is repulsive to him. he takes his medicine. he is quite active in the outdoors taking care of the yard, doing home projects. doesn't smoke or drink. he had a heart attack 20 years ago around this time, a triple bypass 19 years ago around this time, and one stent put in 2 years ago around this time. the stent, a modern medical miracle that is supposed to last 15 years, collapsed for no reason. the cardiologist was so baffled by the stent collapsing (and the heart attack) that my dad's case will be reported to the american college of cardiology. the stent is replaced. dad is recovering well; he is cracking jokes, making friends, and talking back to the tv. when i told him that Sophie (one of their 3 breeding dogs) was a mess, he said, "oh, I need to bathe her when I get home." we told him not to worry about it. dad is ready to come home now, but they are playing it safe and releasing him tomorrow.
it gave mom, kara and i quite a scare. it was the call i had been dreading for years. i begged and pleaded with the Lord for mercy. i hadn't cried like that in a while. he is still young. i wasn't ready for him to leave this crumbling earth. are we ever ready?
so how is the condition of my heart? how is my anger with the Lord? i am grateful that dad is with us. i am relieved. but... no, no what if's. i wish i could say, 'it is well with my soul'; i can't right now, even though dad is out of danger. that is said not with pride and arrogance scoffing at God because He didn't make my life or my loved ones' lives easier and now i am going to stop trusting him (or maybe it is... hmmm). it is said with reproof. i want to say 'it is well'. i don't know how. i am still learning. yes, there is pride and arrogance in me (that kind that goes back to the fall) of wanting to be God-like, trying to grasp a full understanding of Him. not that knowing him more and desiring more of him is a sin, but trying to be God and deciding on my own what is best for me, my loved ones, this earth, pretending to completely know his heart, his way; there is the folly. walking on my own without trust... aye, there's the rub. oh, but to trust him and to walk into a storm and say '...when sorrows like sea billows roll, whatever the cost thou hast taught me to say it is well, it is well with my soul.' that is what i want! that is something i strive toward. when accidents happen and loved ones suffer, i want the peace of Christ which transcends all understanding to guard my heart and my mind in Christ Jesus.

elm creek lane

After two weeks (actually, more like a month) of quite the relentless schedule, of working and then running to the next thing, i took a weekend off to go home to my parents and relax. my boss closed the office on friday and i only had to stay and wait for the mail. it came and i left! kara asked me to lunch and then hit the road. i stopped to get a "toothbrush" (ie. all the things i forgot to pack) and made it to my folks for dinner. friday night tradition in my parent's house has been the same for 17 years-- burgers on the grill. homemade burgers, good conversation, followed by a movie from the holcombe collection (this friday night feature was "My Fair Lady"). we all crawled in our respective sleeping receptacles, me with Bessie, a nine year old female dachshund, my ever faithful bed-warmer.

Saturday morning has a food tradition as well-- whole grain waffles (and mom makes pancakes for me as waffles are too heavy). i usually add fruit and nuts to mine; bananas and almonds graced the face of my delicious pancake this time around. We sat around together at the table, catching up, joel and i making jokes, and as usual, there was some literary discussion, though it did not spring out of great thought and contemplation. none of us could remember the authors of don quixote or pygmalion, both brought up in relation to friday night's feature. does spain have plains for the rain to remain in?
After breakfast we all headed in various directions; dad to the lawn, joel to corrie's and mom and i to waxahachie for some "antiquated therapy". Waxahachie has always had a quaintness and charm that draws both my mom and me. Grand Victorian-style homes, small town feel, and a sweet downtown square with our favorite-- antique shops. We always hit the same one's searching for that incredible deal. Mom found 7 pieces of 19th century china for 5 dollars, and I found a jade plate for 2 dollars. We had lunch of chicken salad and spinach salad in one of the charming tea rooms on the square, and we discussed how we would like to decorate our houses. Mom bought us fresh linen scented candles with delightful votive holders from the Dove's Nest, a more modern, trendy (and expensive) nick-knack store. Following this well spent morning, we went to pick up a movie for the evening, deciding to purchase 3. To ensure that there were no defects, we had to watch one, Pride and Prejudice. [ Though there are a few scenes that make me whence with disgust at the writing/acting/directing, there are several others that feed my 'artist' and quench the thirst for good art. (overall, i cannot stand the writing of the film in comparison to other austen adaptations, but the cinematography and music delight me to no end.)]
to complete our relaxing and fun-filled Saturday, mom, dad and i feasted on mexican food and retreated to the couches for root beer floats and "Charlotte's Web". A wholesome, well-written movie, it evoked a series of hearty belly-laughs from all sides of the room, and I think we all enjoyed ourselves thoroughly!

I have to interject quickly to explain the importance of these simple facts and my reason for recording such mundane events. The reason is simply that they are simple. they are good. they are comforting. they are true. they are pure. they are home. finding a place where there is tradition, where there are things, events, people, you can count on, rely on-- that is home. I only lived in the house first for the last two years of high school, a few months after one college, and then a couple of years after another. Our other house I lived in from 2 years to 16. But in that yellow house on elm creek lane, some things remain the same and traditions do not change. My parents have shared 37 years of marriage. The creek in the back still rarely fills with water. Sparky, the next door neighbor's yellow lab, still barks all night. Friday and Saturday burgers and waffles still appear. Bessie still greets us with a sweet show of affection-- a wagging tail, humble eyes, licking tongue, and occasionally "happy-pee". Mom still takes me on a tour of the changes and growth of her plants. Dad still readily mentions updates from the missionaries he gladly 'shepherds' through his role of church missions coordinator. The new things, the additions, only add more to this feeling of home and tradition. The 3 adorable puppies dad is raising to be breeding dogs-- they add affection and joy and entertainment. The wisteria mom planted a couple of years ago adds new shade to dad's well built 17 year old deck. The green walls of the reading room that house my grandmother's bed, my favorite room to sleep in during my stay, only add to the warmth and comfort and simplicity of this home.

My favorite new tradition is the Sunday morning traditional tea and scones and conversation. This is where most of our literary discussions occur. Mom is an avid reader, especially of Tolkein and various children's novels. Dad has written some poetry and started a children's book based on stories he told us throughout our childhood. Joel writes and when he takes the time, he also is a great reader. Two years ago on mom's birthday Joel and I took this time to create a birthday gift for mom, Tea with Mr. Tumnus. Paper snowflakes, toast and sardines, and tea with scones, it was a memorable time for us all.

And back to the weekend, this Sunday I did enjoy sitting around the table with everyone with our tea and scones; but sadly there was no literary discussion. We had a guest/ soon to be a family member (Joel's fiance), and so it was not the same Sunday morning discussions. Everyone left and went to church but I stayed on hoping to find time to journal and read 'Artists Way' and write. There were several noisy distractions so I ended up playing with the dogs and grocery shopping for lunch (other wholesome past-times).

I am grateful for this home and my weekend getaway. it was a full and rest-full weekend filled with tradition, simple joys and pleasures, and the company of my parents. I came back with loads of chigger bites and a huge gas bill, but I also came back rested and restored (with my own copy of pride and prejudice as well as a antique $2 jade plate).

front row to minor tragedy

Jay Janner Austin American Statesman

So this morning I couldn't go straight to my office because of an accident. When I arrived at my office I found that the major part of the accident was caddy-corner to our building. There were multiple fire trucks, multiple police cars, multiple ambulances, and a non stop media frenzy. From everything I gather an SUV was at fault; my boss saw the driver walking around dripping wet with airbag liquid. His front end was folded in accordion style. And then there was a bus in the front lawn of the building across the way! I arrived after the crash when the first emergency vehicles had come. The bus pictured above swerved to miss the SUV crashing into a brick wall, crossing through 2 parking lots and then ending up slammed into the side of the building. The bus driver was pinned in because her leg was caught; reports say she broke the leg and her injury is one of two serious ones. A passenger on the bus suffers the other serious injury. It looked as if another bus was involved somehow as well. It was on the scene when I arrived and was here before the police arrived. The most accurate story I have read on the accident is in the Statesman.

There were no fatalities, no life-threatening injuries. They just cleared up the accident and the bus has been towed from the building, three hours later. How amazing that it wasn't more tragic; it could have been much worse. And talk about near misses. I could have been driving earlier down that road and been involved, the bus could have crashed into our building instead.

I can't imagine how fearful the passengers from that bus are now. They must be frightened to ride a bus again, and they must have a lot to process. As I pulled in my lot, I heard one of the passengers, a homeless man, shout "I'll never ride the bus again!" I wonder at how CapMetro is handling them; are they providing free rides and bus passes to compensate and ensure they still have these people as customers. It was minor compared to other accidents, but it still has a tragic air. It is amazing how fleeting and futile this life is. On a 2 lane road on a quiet and simplistic block in the laid-back city of Austin, a bus loaded with morning passengers smashes into a building. Though it is a mere trifle in comparison to recent events in sleepy towns far from this one, it leaves an impression.

amazing nature

i don't if it is just convenient for otters to hold hands or if they are truly affectionate. a wonderful lady sent me this link. i am not a 'you-tuber' but wow, 'otterly' amazing.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ybs0eJ3i3FU&mode=related&search=

17 days until the british invasion

I have been living in the same sweet house for almost 3 years now. this breaks a major cycle in my life of moving every two years. believe me, i have had some difficulties hanging around. there is this deep seeded wanderlust in my bones that cries out for the next adventure. i was "this close" to going back to denton to complete my degree there. i mentioned it to my mom and we had a nice long chat about it. she helped me weigh all the vices and not-so-vices. and we came to the conclusion that it takes much effort to build a good community base. i have invested 5 years at the same church, and have been a part of the church in some way or another for 7. attempting to re-create intimacy that comes with experience and longevity is something that from appearances would take much effort. (i will add that the intimacy is not at the levels I hope for but I will continue to hope) And my reason for desiring to go is that 1. wanted to finish what I started and 2. trying to imagine wrangling up the EIGHT transcripts I would have to in order to graduate from somewheres down here. I also have an excellent job here in austin, another major bonus considering what I have been through with jobs. All to say, I am staying put..... for now. (There is one lady from my church that has asked me if I will still be around in August!)

So, in breaking a 17 year tradition, little old cullen avenue remains "home". And in 17 days, the "world" comes my way in the form of a very kind British woman who will room with me for a short while.

And, if nothing major happens in the next 2 years (ie. marriage or ministry opportunity here or school) then I plan to head south for the border and fulfill a life-long desire of serving Christ in a Spanish speaking community. casa, dolce casa?

forsaken

"My God my God, why hast thou forsaken me" by F. Holland Day 1898

the arts and teaching pastor at my church asked me to be one of the seven that reflects on the last words of Christ for our church's Good Friday service. On meditating on the scriptures, this one brought me to my knees. Even Jesus uttered the words, "My God My God why hast thou forsaken me?" I am going to include my reflections; they have been cut down considerably (I think I could have written a 40 minute sermon!) I found so many wonderful words by theologians and wish I could include them all. George MacDonald, a favorite author of mine, experienced more suffering than I think I can ever fathom. He writes a beautiful meditation on these last words (I found it on the NavPress site). and here are mine. thank you, brie, my editor in chief. names have been changed to protect some identities and a sentence or two have been left off for various reasons (at the writer's discretion).





About the ninth hour Jesus cried out in a loud voice, “Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani? Which means “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me”.
These are incredibly perplexing words. Martin Luther stated, “God turning his back on God? Who can understand it”? Christ had already suffered greatly through beatings and his wounds, thirst, starvation, sweating blood, taking this “cup”. And now He was partaking in the will of God. He was taking on the sins of the world. And he echoes the words of David in psalm 22, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from saving me, so far from the words of my groaning? O my God, I cry out by day, but you do not answer, by night, but I find no rest.”


One of the most significant verses in my life has been, “I will never leave you NOR FORSAKE YOU”. When I was barely old enough to speak my mom taught me to memorize bible verses, and after memorizing so many, I won a prize, a plaque with this verse on it. It hung above my light switch throughout my childhood and whenever I was afraid or had a nightmare, I would turn to that plaque to remember His promise. It still hangs in my room today.

There was a time in my life when Christ’s love was so richly poured out over me. His voice was so sweet. Our fellowship was intimate. His intense outpouring of grace touched me and moved me to share His goodness with others. So I decided to serve the Lord in Amsterdam. My first day there was 9/11. My third week brought two minor sexual assaults. And it was almost immediately that I realized God was silent. I didn’t hear his voice anymore. I would cry out and no response was given.

MY GOD MY GOD WHY HAST THOU FORSAKEN ME!

And I was surrounded by real, in your face human depravity. There was my sweet friend from Burundi who was taken by rebels and then was brought to shoot her own parents. Gladys from England whose inner arms were tributes to her multiple suicide attempts. A friend from Nigeria whose family was burned alive in their home by rebels. There was another friend from Thailand who was raped by a woman and spent the next several years sleeping with as many men as possible to attempt to “cure” her homosexual longings. There was the Christian missionary, a man of God who for a brief moment grabbed me in a dark staircase to feed his selfish lusts. In this place, it seemed I was surrounded by death!
And my response was “my God my God why have you forsaken these!”

Even after returning from Amsterdam, God was silent and I seem to find still more suffering, more hardship, more ramifications of this fallen nature.
Four years God was silent. Four years his presence felt distant.. They were 4 years of poverty, of not knowing how I could pay bills and eat, of desperately seeking work. There was relational poverty and intense loneliness. Mostly there was spiritual poverty. I felt abandoned by God. What I did know is that I had previously experienced God’s goodness. I had tasted and seen that the Lord is good. Charles Spurgeon writes, “There are seasons when the brightness of our Father's smile is eclipsed by clouds and darkness; but let us remember that God never does really forsake us.."

The little plaque from my childhood with the verse “Nor forsake you” was still true though through these years it had baffled me. I knew that had to move past feeling and past intellect. I had to embrace trust. Psalm 22 continues with, “ Yet you are enthroned as the Holy One; you are the praise of Israel. In you our fathers put their trust; they trusted and you delivered them. They cried to you and were saved; in you they trusted and were not disappointed.”



In a meditation of these last words of Christ, George MacDonald writes “The divine horror of that moment is unfathomable to the human soul. It was the blackness of darkness. And yet He believed. Yet He held fast. God was still His God.”


Christ entered our sufferings. God entered our sufferings. The raw honesty of the cross is that the punishment for sin is death, utter and complete separation from God, the creator, the author and perfector of life, the Father. He who knew no sin became sin for us. Christ drank the cup, tasted death. God knew separation from God.

Christ called out not about his pain or his suffering; it was great. But he called out for the Father.

He who knew no sin and knew the glory of heaven, knew the deepest sweetness of communion with God, took your death and my death, took on sin and separation from the I Am, so we, the sinners, can fellowship with the Almighty.

uninhibited

aiden scout gamble

this is joy.

this is uninhibited, untouched, unspoiled childlike true joy.

yesterday I watched aiden eat a cup of chocolate chocolate chip gelato and she did it with such excitement as the liquidy goodness covered Aiden from head to toe. some of it actually did make it in her mouth! the "ice cream" was a reward for going in the poddy; kara and I made sure she made the connection. And we all laughed heartily. aiden would say something that would cause her to laugh (though it was something of gibberish) and we would laugh with her. we sat at a table at Central Market by the "wee" and laughed and laughed. aiden did get to play some too. but we mainly laughed. for no reason other than the fun and joy of laughter.

being an aunt makes me quite happy and does give me joy. on the birth of his nephew, vincent van gogh created one of the most beautiful paintings (in my estimation), inspired by new life. (Vincent, as christened after his uncle, was the son of van gogh's brother theo and was born on my birthday though over a hundred years earlier). it is the blooming almond branch on a peaceful sky-blue back ground. i saw the original in amsterdam and was awe struck by it's beauty. there is such richness in the blue; somehow it captures the essence of peace. the almond branch seems as if it is literally coming to life and will reach out of the painting towards you. i see things so holistically that it is so difficult for me to pull out the small details of the painting to give it justice. this painting i felt. at a time when nothing could touch me, nothing beautiful nothing ugly, this painting did.

the colors of this copy do not give it justice. seeing it in its originality is the only way to really experience the painting.