STANDING CLOSE TO THE VEIL

 The grand-dog is spending the weekend, and we're passing a lazy afternoon together on the porch. Lefty wants to play fetch right now, but it's hot out and I do not want him getting over-heated. I have promised Lefty we'll play fetch when the sun slips behind the trees.

I washed laundry this morning, changed Mom's sheets, and wrote a few letters.

Then I attended the visitation for a sweet and gentle giant who slipped quietly into eternity last week.

Came home and ate lunch, washed more laundry, talked with my son about his travel plans and about boating on Reelfoot, completed a French lesson. Now, I'm sitting on the porch, writing and enjoying a warm afternoon breeze with the grand-dog.

This is a strange life...standing daily close to the veil, tucking death between meetings and household chores and what's-for-dinner? Strange and sad and beautiful and sweet.

In my last post, I'm Not Who I Used To Be, I stated that I know fewer things absolutely now than I once did...but those few things, I know with greater certainty than ever before. One thing I have become increasingly confident of, especially during my short time working in hospice: This life is not all there is. The death of the physical body is not The End. We truly do have eternity written in our hearts.

Every time one of My People passes, I weep. But for those with whom I share faith in Jesus, I do not grieve as one who has no hope. I WILL see these dear brothers and sisters again, and they will be whole and well, full of life and joy.

Today, my heart is sore. A small piece of it left me, passed through the veil, is waiting for me now on the other side...waiting, I am confident, with bright eyes, a broad smile, and a tapping foot, eager to welcome me when I, too, am called home.

Until then, tucked between today's goodbye and some future Welcome Home!, I will fold the laundry, cook dinner, play fetch with the grand-dog...

And I will remember.

I'M NOT WHO I USED TO BE...

Before

A new reader sent me a sweet message last week stating she had been enjoying reading through old posts and she was glad I was back writing new posts again here at the blog. Her words were such an encouragement to me.

I write, primarily, for myself: writing is a way for me to think through things and process life. Writing allows me to get thoughts and words out of my head and put them down in type so they don't knock about in my head late at night keeping me awake.

I write primarily for myself, but I also write for others. Perhaps my struggles or experiences, shared here, will resonate with another and provide some small measure of hope, encouragement, or simply a sense of "I'm not alone in the world." (When that happens, it's magic. It makes me feel less alone, too.)

But, honestly, when this reader said she had been reading through old posts, my first thought was, "Oh, no! What has she been reading?! What on earth did I write?!"

You see, I have been posting on this blog for 15 years. And, well, I am not the same person I was when I started this little endeavor.

My hair is gray now and my middle is thick. My kids are grown and my nest is empty. I used to know a great many things absolutely. Now, I know very few things absolutely...but those few things, I know with greater certainty than ever before. If I had time or inclination to read back through 15+ years of posts, I feel certain I would discover much that I regret in hindsight, opinions and attitudes I no longer agree with, that no longer fit me.

If you are new to the blog, please be merciful when you read back through the years. This blog is a kind of documentation of the progression from who I was a decade and a half ago to who I am today. I'm still "in process."

I guess we all are, really.

Thank you, dear reader, for sharing the journey with me.

In Process

A PARTICULAR, UNIQUE PERSON

I've sung in mountain cathedrals

With steeples rising high

And altars made of evergreen

And windows made of sky.

     - Bob Bennett

This picture was taken by my sister-friend Jill when I visited her in East Tennessee too-many-years ago. We were both familiar with the Bob Bennett song, and hiking mountain trails together definitely felt like a holy place.

Jill and I have been friends since God led us together waaaay back in sixth grade, almost 50 years ago. We survived middle school and Wilford Gray's highschool science classes together, roomed together in college, stood up at each other's weddings, made multiple military moves together, and had babies together. We laughed, wept, and prayed together through the best and the worst life has thrown our way. I can't think of anyone outside my birth family who has known me longer, seen more clearly into my heart and soul, or loved me more faithfully and unconditionally than Jill.

Jill and I have a lot in common. We both love Jesus. We both appreciate a fine-looking horse. We both have white hair and beautiful grandbabies. We both enjoy music and the outdoors. We both really like to eat, and we both enjoy conversation over a glass of wine on the back porch at the end of the day.

Jill and I have much in common...but we are not the same. We are each unique.

We both enjoy music...but while I am content to sing along loudly with Phil Wickham on the car radio, Jill actually plays multiple instruments and plays them well.

We both enjoy the outdoors...I enjoy a leisurely hike on a graveled path or a gentle kayak on the lake, while Jills runs mountain trails and kayaks tumbling rivers.

My personality is quiet, hesitant, overly-introspective. Jill: lively, engaging, and bursting with energy.

We have a lot in common, but we are not the same.

* * * * *

Working through a list of Important Questions to Ask Your Parents last night, my youngest asked me: "What is one thing that you want for your children?"

I knew my answer immediately. It is the deepest longing of my heart, the thing I lie awake at 2:00 in the morning praying for, almost every single night. It's the thing that, when I meet with friends to pray together, it squeezes my heart so hard it makes me weep.

What is my deepest desire for you, beloved daughter of mine? What is my deepest desire for you and Blake, Martha and Justin, Benjamin, Tom and Carly, Nate and Abby, Reuben, Emily and Dennis, and all the beautiful grands?

I want you to know, all the way to your very core, how very much God loves you. I want you to know how deeply and faithfully Jesus loves you, and how very much he delights in you for the unique and precious child that you are.

But there is more...

I want you to know Jesus for the unique and beautiful person that he is. I want you to know and love him deeply, too.

* * * * *

Last night as I lay awake in the wee hours thinking about this burgeoning heart desire, and thinking about this dear, lovely Jesus that I so long for my children to know and love, it occurred to me...

We all - both inside the church and outside the church - when we encounter this idea of Jesus, if we give him more than a second's thought, we immediately begin to try to understand him from the context of who we are as individuals. This makes sense, because it is from the framework of my own personal understanding and experience that I engage with and process anything new or unfamiliar.

We ask questions like: Who is this man, Jesus, really? How is he like me? How is he different? What about him do I agree with and what can I affirm? What about him do I disagree with, and how does he offend me? Is he all that he says he is? What do his closest friends say about him, and are they people I would even like or respect? All kinds of good questions, worth study and contemplation.

If we do give this man Jesus more than a second's thought, we all - both inside the church and out - we all begin to try to make Jesus, whoever he really is, more like ourselves.

Am I politically conservative? If Jesus were living in America today, he would be, too.

Am I a social activist for a particular group of the marginalized and oppressed? If Jesus were here today, he would be a social activist, too.

Am I offended by a lack of formality and decorum in public worship services, or am I an advocate for exuberant religious expression? Whatever I am, Jesus would probably be that, too.

Do I like to sing along loudly with Phil Wickham, kayak a calm lake, or sit quietly on the perimeter of a noisy social gathering? I know Jesus completely gets that.

It seems like we are left with this ongoing tension: either we subtly make Jesus more like ourselves (and therefore much more comfortable to relate to) - or - we bump up against things about him that are very not like ourselves, things we cannot get comfortable with, and we are left with having to choose to either wrestle with this not-like-me Jesus or write him off altogether.

And that got me to thinking about Jill...

Who is very not-like-me in so very many ways, and yet who has shown me more of the power and majesty and absolute loveliness of Jesus than I could ever write.

* * * * *

And this leads me back to last night's Important Question.

My prayer, beloved daughter, is that you would know how very much God loves you, and that you would know and love Jesus. Not Jesus-like-you, not Jesus-like-me, not Jesus-like-(insert whatever affiliation or agenda here)...but the unique, particular person of Jesus himself. [Hint: You will have to spend time with him, and you will need your Bible.]

All those people - which is all of us - who say, "Jesus is like this" - or - "Jesus is like that"? Because we are all image-bearers, we probably have at least some small part of Jesus right; because we are all broken, we certainly have much of Jesus wrong. The important thing is: don't let all the voices drown out the voice of Jesus himself. Because he is altogether lovely.

* * * * *

Jill, I LOVE YOU. I am way overdue for a visit, sweet friend!

HEALING WATER

From wading in the creek to watching thunderstorms from the front porch swing with my mom as a child, to dancing in downpours as a teenager and swimming laps at the local Y as an adult,  I have always found water to be a source of both rest and renewed energy. Maybe this is why I like the beach so much.

Water soothes me.

In my new job, my heart gets broken almost every week. Last week was especially hard, as I said goodbye to two precious souls I had grown to love. As I stumbled exhausted and dazed into Friday, I messaged my son: "Want to go kayaking this weekend?"

Thank you, Tom and Carly, for an afternoon on the lake. It was balm to your mom's aching heart.

IT'S A NEW DAY

It's a new day today: after an almost-4-year hiatus, I am back on the blog! June 2023: a year and one month post the trauma of nursing school. It's been a busy year, with both painful heartbreak and joyful firsts.

Over the past year, I have:

• started my first full-time job ever, working nights as a med-surg RN
• made my first "grown-up" paycheck ever
• spent way-too-many sleepless nights camped on hospital beds
• buried three precious members of my immediate family
• overseen my first house sale
• moved my 83-year-old mother in to live with me
• made my first solo international trip ever, touching down on two foreign continents and navigating multiple international airports
• bought a car - and car insurance - for the first time ever
• been pulled over for speeding for the first time ever (What can I say? The new car is so QUIET!)
• started my second full-time job ever, as a home hospice nurse
• fallen in love with complete strangers faster than I ever imagined possible, and wept bitterly at their passing
• planned and enjoyed my first-ever family vacation with my kids and grands

A few things learned - or relearned - over the past year + a month:

• Sleep - especially sleep at NIGHT - is a wonderful gift.
• I (still) LOVE the beach.
• STUFF is a burden and a bondage.
• People are beautiful and incredibly broken.
• None of us is promised tomorrow. Every day is precious.
• A bitter, critical spirit drowns out one's insistent claims of knowing and loving Jesus.
• A kind and gentle spirit married to humble service and tender compassion toward "the least of these" speaks the name of Jesus more efficaciously than any degree, title, or affiliation.
• God is sovereign. God is faithful. God is good.

It's a new day today...

It feels good to be back. I am ready to write.