Archive for June, 2006

June 8, 2006 @ 12:39 pm | Filed under: Uncategorized

…or talking back?

I saw this on a church marquee a few days ago, and it has stayed on my mind since. Talk back to God? I can’t even imagine…

And yet…I know I certainly don’t always listen to Him either. So what does that mean? Is talking back truly the opposite of listening?

No. It’s not.

The opposite would be to ignore.

And that, I’m sad to admit, I’m guilty of from time to time. When He has something to say to me that I’m not ready or willing to hear, I will do my best (all subconsciously, of course) to ignore that still, small voice deep inside of me.

I’ll get busy with the inessentials. I’ll tie up my mind with clutter. I’ll shut down all thoughts that I’m doing everything in the world except listening to the one voice that I need most in my life.

But, in His infinite grace and mercy, God always patiently waits me out. He knows me and my ways better than anyone else and He knows I’ll come around.

Pretty soon, I can’t take the noise anymore, I begin to crave the stillness and comfort I find when I’m alone and quiet in His presence. So I’ll stop the busyness, allow the mountain of projects to go unattended, and I’ll find that place at His feet once again.

And I’ll be ready to listen.

June 6, 2006 @ 5:14 am | Filed under: Uncategorized

this story last week. But it’s significance still lingers in my thoughts and emotions even now - days later.

"It’s bad." Even through the phone line I could detect the worry in Mike’s voice.

"How bad?" I’m sure he heard the trepidation in mine.

"Not good. Not good at all."

We were talking about the condition of the boys’ car. A half hour earlier Jordan had called saying he had gone over a railroad track and the car had bottomed out on it. Long story short, the transmission pan had cracked and the car promptly lost every drop of oil. Jordan had wisely pulled into a nearby restaurant parking lot and called Mike.

Now Mike was calling me, letting me know he’d called for a tow truck and to expect the car to be in the shop for several days. But he also cautioned me that the cost of the repairs just might exceed the value of the car. With all the damage that seemed to have been done the repair bill could easily run in excess of a thousand dollars or more. Not good. I could tell by the sound of his voice that we most likely had some major vehicle decisions just ahead of us. Decisions that weren’t exactly a part of our overall game plan.

See, I had passed my nine-year-old car on to the boys last year at the beginning of Nate’s senior year with the understanding that they would drive it until they left for college. At that time, we’d put them each in a good vehicle to take to college. Nate has been excitedly gearing up for his, having his heart set on a Ford Ranger, but having to replace the car now would change the whole scenario.

Later that afternoon a very worried Jordan sat down next to me. "What are we going to do, Mom?"

I looked in his eyes and saw the torment there. I knew he felt tremendous guilt that the incident had happened while he was driving. Even though Mike had called the city to report the railroad track (the track itself had sunk, creating a six or seven inch drop on either side onto the track), Jordan was still plagued with an overwhelming sense of responsibility.

"We’ll just pray, son." Even to my ears my response sounded a bit hollow.

But it was all I knew to say or do.

He nodded, but stayed silent. I wasn’t sure I’d convinced him. I wasn’t so sure I had convinced myself.

Two days later both boys and I were in the Suburban, having just had lunch out together, when my cell phone rings. It’s Mike.

"Well, it’s not bad." My, what a difference forty-eight hours can make. He sounded…was it possible…almost…encouraged?

"How not bad?" I countered with careful anticipation.

"Not bad at all."

As he proceeded to tell me the specifics of the car issues, I caught Jordan’s eyes in the rearview mirror. I could tell he was monitoring my every word and expression. I can barely believe Mike’s words and I’m searching for the best way to tell Jordan so that he’d believe them too.

"One-hundred and ten dollars, Jordan."

"No way." His eyes never left mine. His voice was a delightfully grand mixture of hope and disbelief.

"Yep." I nodded and grinned.

"How’s that possible?" Nate, ever my voice of reason, piped up.

I shrug and try to think of something bright and wise to say.

"It had to be God." (So much for bright and wise…)

"Mom," Jordan leaned forward, his voice low and earnest, and remarkably close to excited. "I…really…prayed. Hard."

I tried to swallow past the sudden lump in my throat and nodded. I have no doubt he did. And I feel certain that his prayers touched heaven and God - in a way that only He can - heard a teen’s prayers and saw his honest, hurting heart…and he provided a miracle so that Jordan could witness the power of answered prayers.

I think Jordan and I both learned something from this experience.

I learned from my son to go slow over railroad tracks that you’re not familiar with.

And Jordan learned that a simple prayer can make even the impossible…possible.

If he can hang onto this memory and the impact it has had on his life he can one day say to his own son or daughter, "Well, I guess we’ll just have to pray."

It’ll be all he thinks or knows to do.

And the lesson will go on…

June 5, 2006 @ 5:09 am | Filed under: Uncategorized

"A graduation ceremony is an event where the commencement speaker tells thousands of students dressed in identical caps and gowns that "individuality" is the key to success." –Robert Orben
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Graduation was fun, and not nearly the emotional frenzy I had anticipated. I teared up only once and even then managed to staunch the flow before it really had a fair or fighting chance. Nathan really seemed to enjoy the whole ceremony, and sauntered (those who know him know what I mean!) across the stage when his name was called with a huge grin and a ready handshake for Dr. Lemaster.

That was a proud moment. One I’ll always treasure.

The graduation party was the next day, on Saturday afternoon. I have to admit that I remember very little of the afternoon. It’s a complete and total blur. Because…somewhere between coming home from the commencement (emotion-free, remember?) and the beginning of the party, my mom emotions began to rebel…and big-time! Of course it didn’t help that he received so many items for his dorm room and his impending college life. All of a sudden it wasn’t just about graduation anymore. It was an in-your-face reminder that he’ll leave home in a mere nine weeks.

So much for the absence of emotional frenzy.

This time there was no controlling them and by the time we all gathered back at home after the party, I was toast. I had the swollen eyes and puffy face yesterday at church to prove it. I have always thought cutting the apron strings would be painful, but for the child, not necessarily the mother.

Um…how wrong was I?

Tonight is driving range night so maybe I can work through some of these emotions at the expense of some unsuspecting golf balls.

On the writing front, I received an unexpected manilla envelope from Word Aflame on Friday containing a check and three different copies of The Vision. Each one had one of my devotions printed on the back. I had sent these in over a year ago, so this was a nice surprise.

In a separate envelope was a letter of intent from PPH regarding Saving Grace. It looks like Grace may make it to book form a lot quicker than I expected. Of course, "quick" is relative since I completed the final draft of Grace in 2003!