Real Life Reflections

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It's Time to Take off the Sunglasses

Americans have a favorite pastime, and no, I'm not referring to baseball or football. This pastime doesn't cost any money. You don't need tickets, and there's no set game time. It happens every day. You don't need to be physically fit. You don't need special training. We do it at book club, at work, on the road, in meetings, having lunch with friends, etc. You get the idea. What is it? Complaining. We love to complain, and I'm right there in the fray, tearing everything and everyone apart. Sometimes it wears me out. My mom passed away many years ago, and one of my all-time favorite memories of life with her goes back to my summer between high school and college. We worked together that summer. Drove together every morning, bright and early, right into the rising sun. One morning, my mom reached into her purse and grabbed her sunglasses, putting them on just as we rounded the bend on the St. Louis-rush-hour-busy road that put us directly in the sun's pat

Resting...Resting?

A few weeks ago, my husband and I had dinner with our daughter-in-law and two of our grand children. My daughter-in-law lost her job a couple of months ago. I wanted an update on current job prospects or plans, so I asked, "What are you doing these days?" Her answer was simple and yet incredibly profound. Resting. (Is that even a word in the American lexicon?) I'm proud of her, and of them, for making the decision that it's time for her to rest. She's been in hyper-drive for all the years I've known her (over 16). That word has haunted me since she spoke it. Resting. What would happen if I...if you...gave it a try? In Psalm 23: 6a, David says Surely goodness and mercy will follow me. In K.J. Ramsey's The Lord is My Courage (page 240), she tells us that our English word, "follow," doesn't convey the power behind the original Hebrew word that David used (radaph). She tells us that radaph means "to pursue, chase, and pers

Are You in the Gradually?

"Gradually then suddenly" This line from a poem written by my poet/philosopher nephew strikes a chord with me (Apparently some guy named Hemingway was the first to pen it. Although, I prefer to give the credit to my nephew). Gradually then suddenly seems to be the way life happens. You wait for your dream-job. You long to find "the one." You can't wait to become a parent. The pining and preparation go on for years (just ask any medical student - or their spouse!). Then suddenly you get the call and can-you-start-next-week; or he finds your wallet and your life changes its trajectory ( true story about my niece) ; or the adoption agency contacts you when you've all but given up hope. Sometimes the gradually then suddenly isn't of our own choosing. Sometimes life propels us into a suddenly that we don't expect and may not want...or maybe we do. I've been a litlover since childhood (both reading it and writing it). I've done the work of

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Gideon: By his own admission, his family was the weakest of his tribe, and he was the weakest in his family (Judges 6: 15-16). Midianites: Big bullies who oppressed the Israelites back in the day. As the story goes, this little-nobody-Gideon is doing manual labor for his dad (I'm thinking that this might be akin to working at Walmart - not exactly a career - or even a job - that causes anyone to preen), when an angel calls him, "a mighty man of valor" (Judges 6: 12). Huh? Oh, you mean this other guy, right? Nope, I'm talkin' to you. Fast forward and we find this little-nobody-Gideon camping near Israel's oppressors with a team of 32,000. This seems like a lot until Gideon checks out the enemy and finds that there are so many Midianites and their pals, the Amalekites, that no one can count them. They seemed "like locust in abundance and their camels were without number as the sand that is on the seashore." (Judges 7: 12) Gulp. What does God

Not the End of the Story

This is my son with his wife and their son (taken over a year ago - note to self: take pictures of your children, not just your grand children at family gatherings!) My son's birthday is coming up, which as birthdays do, causes me to reflect on him and on his life. If you read my last post, A Letter to My Son , you've probably figured out that he wasn't the golden child that all his teachers dreamed of having in their classroom. At times, I feared that he wouldn't graduate (at least not with his class). I shed a lot of tears during those first eighteen years of his life. So did he. At the end of this month, he will turn thirty. Thirty. (Yikes!) Not only did he graduate high school with his class, he graduated college too - in four years. He's married to a wonderful woman who is totally crazy about him (and he, her). They have an adorable son. She is a pediatrician. He is a well-respected audio engineer - the type that gets called out of the blue and offered

A Letter to My Son

This is my grandson (I know. He's pretty dang cute, right?) His daddy, my son, posted a picture of him on Instagram with a caption stating that he could not love this baby any more. What he doesn't know, what he can't possibly know right now, is that he will... Just wait, my dearest son, just wait. When his kindergarten teacher mistakes his inability to sit still for rebelliousness. When she pulls you aside on a daily basis to tell you all that he's done wrong that day. When she gives him eleven demerits in just three hours of school. When she keeps him in from recess day after day, although recess is what he needs most in his structured day. When he's in trouble so often that you find him lying on his bed sobbing and wondering why God made him, and he says, "I should just kill myself" - in kindergarten. And your heart breaks. When his best friend finds a new best friend. And your heart breaks. When you walk by his 5th grade classr