where waves grow sweet

So then, as we have opportunity, let us do good to all men, and especially to those who are of the household of faith. Galatians 6:10

After a week in Colorado with sunny skies and mild temperatures, we woke up yesterday morning to fat snowflakes falling from a gray sky and wintery temperatures that plummeted by the hour. It was the best of Colorado (except, of course, for all the other best parts). When booking the flights a few months ago, my intent was to return home yesterday morning but I just wasn’t settled about it. Even though it didn’t make sense, I booked the flight for today and felt great peace. I am so glad I went with that sense. Not so much to avoid the travel complications that would have arisen from the storm, but to experience with my beyond-joyful 15-year old the year’s first big snowstorm in Fort Collins.

Cheap labor

While it was still early, Evelina and I braved the slick roads to drop Aksel off at daycare. There was a kid out front, alone, shoveling the walkway with a shovel twice as wide as his puffy blue coat. It looked charming and yet child-labor wrong. I pictured Aksel scrubbing toilets and sweeping floors after we left him in the homey environment. He came home with dyed blue hands, which he said was from homemade play doh, but I’m thinking it might have been from the Tidy Bowl.

We took to the slippery streets again, this time toward Evie’s salon on the opposite side of town. I sat with strips of foil on my head, watched the flurries collecting on bare branches out the window, and had a lively conversation with Sally, a fascinating woman in her 60’s who loves travel, her dead husband, and her kindle. We were soon foil-headed twins, embracing the skill and wit of my stylist sister-in-law, and enjoying the connection.

Laurie & I at Dempsey's

With my hair toned down from the sun’s ruthless bleach job, I left Evie to her remaining clients and met up with a favorite friend, Laurie, for breakfast in Old Town. Our conversations are always unedited, real, true. And always too short for my liking. We talked about life and what the love of God really looks like. We cried a little and laughed a lot. We prayed together, had the hostess take a photo of us, and hugged goodbye. Sometimes I dream we will get to live close to each other again, but I am so happy for these moments with her that make all the other moments of my life better.

After my sweetly sobering time with Laurie, I hopped back into Michael’s little burgundy Tercel, stepped on the clutch, and got giddy to drive around in the snow. It’s not like I’m good at it. I can’t count how many times I’ve slidden through intersections, barely missing cars or stop signs, but it is fun and makes me feel one with the weather.

I drove up Mulberry and turned onto Smith, the happy tree-lined street where Cole and I lived before moving to California. I hopped out into the powdery snow and smiled. In the midst of writing a note for our old neighbors the McGranes, who were probably cross country somewhere in their VW bus, I turned to see two cars collide in the middle of Mulberry. “Bummer,” I thought, as I finished my note and let my heart wander a while.

Smith Street

Looking at that lovely street, covered with snow, I was reminded of the spring we had a blizzard. Three feet of heavy, wet snow fell over the course of a few days, and the whole town shut down. We all acted like excited little kids getting a day off school. There were people on skis and sleds in the middle of the street, with happy faces and bright scarves. It felt like one of those idyllic Wysocki paintings, except without the horses. My friend, Katie, and I pulled Cole on a sled to the elementary school, where we made impassioned attempts to snowboard down the small hill.

When we learned that the big hill by Bryan’s house had enough snow to cover the prickly plants, a group of us removed the large branch that had fallen on my car, used some sweat and shovels to make a path for my tires, and set out on an adventurous drive to Loveland. What ensued was one of the most magical and memorable days in the history of spring. Friends and neighbors laughing, speeding, tumbling, standing, sitting, freezing together in the best of contexts.

Barb, Katie, and I jumped on a plastic toboggan and zoomed down the slope. Somewhere along the way, Katie disappeared from the front and we came to a sudden halt. When we discovered the issue – mainly Katie’s body beneath our large sled – we were laughing so hard, we couldn’t seem to remove ourselves from her poor body. It was joy. Sheer joy.

Our house on Smith Street

I relived so much standing there on Smith Street yesterday. Praying in my house with Katie while an unexpected hailstorm pelted the roof. Cole, Marty, and Polly playing in their treehouse, jumping on the giant trampoline where I was sure I broke my leg, using slingshots to hit targets and small animals. The path by the river where I would walk in winter wearing my big wool sweater. The small group from church that met at my house for life and coffee on Tuesday nights. Cole’s birthday party with eight hyped up boys and a piñata that wouldn’t burst. Coveted conversations with Bill, the African American neighbor who towered over me and brought me barbecue.

The reverie lingered as I slid into the car and put it in gear. I didn’t want to leave really. Not that I want to live there again or undo my choice to move, but I felt steeped in an appreciation of how much “there” is a part of me “here.” Well, not here, on this very delayed flight back to Orange County. But here in my heart, in who I am, in how I love. And it helps me imagine how many of the moments I’m having now are adding texture, strength, and the sweetest of memories to who I will be.

A beautiful day to go sledding

And My people will be satisfied with My goodness, declares the LORD. Jeremiah 31:14

The tiredness of the past month collapsed on me today like a mighty avalanche. During lunch, while trying to keep my twitching eyes open, I read a winter survival tip that recommended on such an occasion (as being struck by an avalanche) to make continuous swimming motions. Life application would suggest that I keep moving lest I succumb to the weight of fatigue. Or, maybe, I should just get more sleep.

Yesterday was divine. We gathered up a collection of snow gear from our suitcase and Michael’s winter bin, sleds of different shapes and sizes from the garage, and some snacks for the road. The car was warmed up, we had coffee in hand, and were heading out the door when Aksel decided he needed to use the bathroom. The rest of us sat there bundled up, waiting awkwardly, in a paused moment of enthusiasm. After an extended period of small talk, Aksel emerged, we headed out to the Matrix, and our big adventure resumed.

The car ride was filled with lots of joy and a bit of nervous anticipation. It has been warmer than usual and there was a nagging thought that there just might not be enough snow to go sledding…which could deflate the fun of a sledding trip in a hurry. As we wound up the mountain road, we shouted excited reports of snow patches on the roadside or rooftops. It wasn’t enough to instill full confidence, but a definite encouragement as we measured our possible success.

We drove past quaint cabins that lined the river, offering a cozy place to stay, and odd little shops that offered jerky of the local wildlife. We watched flags flopping around and trees making generous movements, and decided it might be windy. We were not mistaken. But in the warm car, with our happy little crew on our way up the mountain, it didn’t matter too much.

Aksel learned that we’d gone sledding the last winter we were here – without him. He handled it well, considering, and seemed to feel only slightly betrayed. The conversation continued as we passed through the charming town of Estes Park tucked safely in the tall mountains. People waited to cross the street, looking cold and uncomfortable. Michael playfully mocked them for their fashion choices. We stopped to run into some strangely warm bathrooms.

The town ended and we continued on to Rocky Mountain National Park, where there was a deer just off the road waiting to greet us. Michael re-upped his annual pass, was given a map and newspaper (the one that gave me that brilliant survival tip), and asked the old, crusty ranger if there was snow on the sledding hill. His dry, slightly annoyed response of “Yep. Three feet.” made us think that all of humanity had already asked him that question that day. We, perhaps with the rest of humanity, were relieved to hear the answer.

We wound through the peaceful landscape until we arrived at our perfect, snow-covered destination. The temperature dropped significantly as we opened the doors of the cozy car. It was cold, for sure, but not nearly as cold as the last time we were there, without Aksel. And this time there weren’t dark clouds hovering or snow flinging itself from the sky. It was sunny and gorgeous. We ran to the back of the car, grabbed our gear, wrapped ourselves up as best as we could, and headed straight past the warming hut to the hill.

The mountainside was scattered with families and the occasional ranger overseeing the festivities. There was constant movement and color against the white of the snow. Two girls in bright purple and pink spun wildly down the slope on an innertube, flipping over onto the embankment. A small boy in a blue jacket clung to the sides of his orange sled as his dad gave him a push. A teenage boy in gray threw his body onto a saucer and face-planted into the snow as a group of friends looked on and laughed.

We became more color and life on the hill as we made our way to the top and zipped back down to the bottom. We took turns and traded up sleds. And then we did it again. We compared reports of the best sled and the best run. There was nothing too steep or grand but it was sweet and delightful. The wind got rascally, whipping our faces with the top layer of snow to remind us that we were indeed in the mountains. But it wasn’t too persistent and it was a small price to pay.

I sat on the fence at the top, taking in the beauty, watching the light on the surface of the snow, admiring the small, determined evergreen growing under the safety of larger trees. It didn’t last long as I was stirred from my reflection by a big snowball Aksel tossed my way. I grabbed him to ride with me down my favorite run on my favorite sled. It was heavenly.

At a certain point, the crowd grew and we’d had our fun. So we got back into the faithful little car and drove to town, where we braved a brisk walk to the coffee shop (becoming the cold and uncomfortable people with questionable fashion choices) and warmed up on beverages. Our enthusiasm was appropriately drained and a relaxed contentment rose up in its place. The trip back down the mountain was mellow. Our faces got prickly as they thawed, music played, words were few, and the rest of the day seemed to melt away like the snow on the roadside as we headed home, spent and satisfied.

A friend loves at all times… Proverbs 17:17

My old Ft. Collins church, the Tool Room

God has brought me so far from isolation and I can trace much of it back to here… Fort Collins, Colorado… where I learned about friendship. This small community of people, working out our faith in the midst of all that life could bring on, was a sweet introduction to what relationship looks like. Not the romanticized version, like a cigarette ad, where everyone is smiling while dancing with a gaggle of attractive people. But the real, sometimes gritty version where there is fun and laughter, alongside struggles and pain. Where people can be ugly and messy, or victorious and joyful, and still be loved. Not that we did it perfectly. But I got a glimpse of the sort of relationship God wants with us, and gained a foundation for the amazing friendships I would develop as I moved on.

I’ve been thinking about all the people I’ve been blessed to do life with – not just here but back home in California and across the world. All I can say is that I feel like the luckiest girl on the planet. So thank you. For being who you are. And for making my life so unbelievably wonderful. You are truly the best.

Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign. Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel. Isaiah 7:14

Horsetooth Reservoir on Christmas Day

Today is Christmas. We are in Colorado for our usual holiday visit with the wonderful family and friends we left here when we moved away. It was a ridiculously beautiful day – brisk, sunny, and perfect for a meander on the path by the reservoir. So after breakfast, coffee, and a few rounds of the entertaining game my nephew, Aksel, got for Christmas, we set out in the silver Matrix and headed for the trail.

The reservoir was blue and sparkling, sitting in between the hills with the light hitting it just right. Aksel said he could see Wyoming, complete with the sign welcoming one to the state. We wandered down the hill through fields of tall wheat-like grass, jumping out of the way for the bikes speeding down or the joggers trudging up. Each passerby gave a friendly “thank you” or “Merry Christmas.” We sat on the flat boulders lining the trail to relieve Akel’s six-year old legs, and marveled at the people going by, peeled right out of an REI catalog, using their bodies and sporty gear as God must have intended.

Aksel lost his oomph when it was time to climb back up the hill. Michael distracted him with several variations of I Spy. At one point, Michael said, “I hear with my ear something that moves.” Aksel quickly replied, “Aunt Kari’s mouth.” The intended answer was wind, but Aksel later emphasized the correctness of his answer.

We ran into someone we knew. We chatted. We walked. Cole and I kept getting ahead of the others. We came into view of the top of the hill and shouted back some encouragement to Aksel. There were several deer across one of the fields. Cole wanted to run over to them but I took a picture instead, which missed all but one of the perfectly still animals. A conversation ensued about the proper terminology for a group of deer. Cole’s initial response of flock led us in all sorts of directions like prides and schools and gaggles, but we eventually landed on herd.

Michael and Aksel found a shortcut we had missed, so Cole and I sprinted up the remainder of the hill, gasping for breath in the altitude, but failed to reach the car first. We drove the short way home and my body, which has been going on very little sleep, felt so relaxed that I fell into a sweet sleep that seemed to extend itself into eternity.

When I awoke, Michael and Cole were watching bobsledding and some sort of musical ensemble that would have succeeded as a parody. I intended to write this post then, while everyone was occupied, but found myself suddenly surrounded with life… Aksel jumping on the bed on one side of me, Cole juggling on the other side, and the dog on top of my computer. So I let it go, and joined the boys in a “snowball” fight with juggling balls. It was joyful and perfect, although I may still have some welts tomorrow.

The evening ended with a wonderful dinner, a group effort on cleanup, a nice conversation with John, from which Cole tried heartily to distract me, and several more rounds of Aksel’s very addicting game.

Everyone is now in bed and I’m enjoying the quiet and solitude, thankful that God would send his son to this harsh world to free me from the chains that bound me and afford me the beauty of a day like today. Merry Christmas!

But a darn good quote. By my mom. When I was struggling with something a while back…

“Nothing grinds so deeply within us as having an injustice done to us and to keep doing the right thing. This is true dying to self.”

Yep, chew on that a while.

“Blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord, and whose hope is the Lord. For he shall be like a tree planted by the waters, which spreads out its roots by the river, and will not fear when heat comes, but its leaf will be green, and will not be anxious in the year of drought, nor will cease from yielding fruit.” Jeremiah 17:7-8

There is a time that is coming when all will be restored and there will be no more drought, no more groaning, no more flopping around in death sentences. Every polluted thing will be washed away and we will exist in perfect purity. It will be heaven. Literally.

It’s a pretty amazing thing to anticipate. But the whole idea of the new covenant is that we are no longer separated from God. The curtain was torn. Heaven came crashing into earth. Which means that we get to have that kind of life now.

Through Jesus, we find signs of that life where everything is dry, cracked, and barren. Fresh green leaves appear where there was nothing to account for them – no water, no sun, no soil. When we have that kind of life, we can extend it to everything and everyone around us. Because it’s not our own life which is dependent on so much for survival, but the very life of God which is able to create from nothing and exist independent of every natural thing.

The bible says that we will shine “like stars in the sky as we hold firmly to the word of life.” Stars don’t shine in the day. They shine at night, when it is dark and hard to see. It is exactly when things outwardly look like they are falling apart and it is hard to see any good thing, that we get to draw from the spirit of God within, shining and twinkling with a calm that goes deeper than daunting emotions or heart-wrenching circumstances. We get to reflect the life of God in a world of drought, the peace of God in a world of distress, the hope of God in a world of despair.

Thank you Lord for every difficult thing that has brought us to our knees before you, that we can see the end of ourselves and our finite ability, and the beginning of you and your infinite ability – not only to bring us through, but to draw out the lush joy and beauty you’ve planted within. Thank you that this is our portion, our inheritance. as your beloved children.

Such love has no fear, because perfect love expels all fear. If we are afraid, it is for fear of punishment, and this shows that we have not fully experienced his perfect love. 1 John 4:18

During a random flurry of Joyce Meyer sermons I was listening to at work a week or two ago, she said something that stuck in me like the knives Cole expertly throws into the tree out back. It was that sometimes fear will be present and you’ve just gotta “do things scared.” As usual, I don’t remember the rest of the message but this piece felt so relevant and really got me thinking.

Perfect love casts out fear and if we really understood the heart of God, fear just couldn’t stick around. We would laugh at it like a nonsensical fact told by a child. Or disdain it like a blatant lie told by a politician. But as our understanding is still imperfect, fear has a little more sway and we have a couple choices. We can either bow to it, letting it dominate our thoughts and dictate our actions. Or we can ignore its taunting threats and move forward with the things in our hearts, trusting that God is bigger than what we feel or any failure or hurt we may experience.

Last night, I saw The King’s Speech, which was one of the best movies I’ve seen in years – beautifully written, filmed, and acted. But it particularly hit home for me because it was a story of a man overwhelmed by fear, wrestling through the paralysis evident for all to see, and “doing things scared” – word by word and sentence by sentence – through friendship and acceptance. Perfect love casts out fear.

So here we are. I don’t know what your fears are. I don’t even know what all my fears are. But I want to ask if we are bowing to this foul thing, paying it homage, doing things differently than we would in its absence.

A prayer…

Lord, would you expose the places in our hearts where we are not living fully in the warmth and power of your love, your acceptance, your kindness, your forgiveness. Please show us where we have missed the fullness of life that cost you yours. Help us to trust you with our hearts and our lives and with every fear that arises, that we can walk forward in the freedom we were created for.

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 1 Corinthians 13:4-5

Someone sent this to me a while ago and I keep returning to it to soak up a little more and hope it takes. Which requires practicing it, hence the very small bites and repeated visits for more very small bites. The very good news is that the kind of love described is how God loves us – even in our most unlovely states – and the only reason we are able to give it to others. Unfortunately, I don’t have a website to reference, but I do know it was written by Graham Cooke who is one of my favorite people to learn from. Hope you enjoy.

Love Expressed, Increases (by Graham Cooke)

When the Gospel came to the Greek people, they had no language for unconditional love. No word could adequately represent the magnitude for the concept. They had to make up a word that defines God’s loving nature. That word is Agape. The most important thing about love is what we do with it.

Agape is unselfish love which expects no return We love for the sake of loving. Love begets love as surely as hate produces hatred. Love grows when given but diminishes when withheld. Agape is the unconditional love that God give us because of Who He is in Himself. He absolutely loves His enemies. The absolute proof of which is John 3:16 and Ephesians 2:1-10.

We love those who have lost sight of themselves and as a result have no clear idea of how to behave around people. The selfish, the arrogant, the abuser, and the miserly; people who are stingy, narrow-minded, and ungenerous. Love catches all and touches everyone. The difficult people are the proof of love since they need the most to be changed by it. Loving the nice is good practice; loving the unlovely is a sure sign that we know that we ourselves are the Beloved.

Love is feeling good about ourselves in the eyes of the Father and seeing what He sees in other people. It takes patience to love some people. Time is required for us to get over our prejudice, open our heart to God, and make life decisions about who we are going to be for the people who get on our last nerve. Christians are not renowned for thinking patiently. We preach about love but practice the worldly kind. We do not set people free with God’s love; we imprison them with our own fleshly habits of anger, judgment and blame. Love does not make people pay. We confuse judgment with justice. Judgment revolves around blame, punishment, and condemnation. Justice is the mix of righteousness with integrity and dignity. It is about fair treatment and impartiality. Love enable people to be advantaged even in ways they least deserve.

Such love is not weak. It is powerful but meek, kind but firm, generous and righteous. Meekness is not weakness; it is strength under control. Love will not abandon others to their fate. Love changes the course of life. It does not wash its hands of people. Agape love will never diminish another human being, but will make a point to enhance their quality of life.

When we love as God loves we are most connected to our truest identity. We discover ourselves  in God. We are always more free when practicing love and always more bound when we imprison other people by guilt. Agapelove is not self-conscious, overly sensitive or self-righteous. We must expect to be criticized for real love. The sure sign that we are manifesting God’s Presence in Agape is revealed in our vilification by the super-spiritual and the religious minded.

We cannot pretend to love people; that is unreality. however we can practice the nature of God on everyone, and in so doing, be transformed ourselves. Agape is a very deliberate choice. It cannot be merely spontaneous — it must be consciously planned. Such love is not simply a feeling but a definitive act of the will. We choose love regardless of how we feel. We love because of who we are now and because of who we want to become in Jesus.

Love expressed increases. Love withheld declines. Love is not about having the right person in front of us, who can see us in the right way. If God has loved us first (1 John 4:19) then we must look inward, not outward, for Agape. Love, like the Kingdom, is within us now! Accept it, receive it, and rejoice in it. Love being loved. The best way to express love is to do it.

Giving love demonstrates Jesus. Agape is not contrived and it is not selfish. Love always returns to us by use. We have love now – give it! nothing makes people more dependent, self-pitying, bitter, cynical and emotionally crippled than thinking they don’t have love unless someone gives it to them.

We must start where we are slowly. It is vital to let love be a conscious act that defines who we want to become in our own identity. Love needs no reward. It does not keep score. It bears, believes, hopes, and endures all things. It needs no fanfares, grandiose statements, promises or resolutions. We do not need to draw attention to ourselves. Love from within the shadow of God’s wings. Quietly, unannounced, in secret. The Father who sees in secret will multiply Agape to us. When we love, we bless ourselves. Just do it, quietly, for God’s sake!