Minnesota in February

I've lived here now 25 years. I am a west coast girl by birth. When we moved from California to Washington, I was introduced to the concept of snow. But in Spokane, the snow would fall and leave several times each winter. Even in the snowiest times, it would be a matter of weeks. None of these months of snow.

Tom is snowblowing for the umpteenth time this winter as I write. He was so kind to offer me the opportunity tonight. I declined. I simply didn't have it in me to push that gas-powered driveway clearer about for him. I didn't want to take the time to done my snowpants, my coat, my scarf, my mittens, my hat in order to clear the driveway of snow...when in the morning, it will be drifted, or snowed upon, or snowplow stacked at the end of the driveway one more time. I did not want to either shower or go to be with the aroma of exhaust on me (though, I will certainly need to comment on the cologne d' unleaded on Tom as his head gratefully hits the pillow tonight.)

So, February 1 marks another 2011 snowfall. No doubt, there will be many more to complain about yet this winter. But tonight, I did not have the gumption to fore go the opportunity to snarl a bit before retiring for the evening. For it does not snow with the promise of a "snow day" for school, or for providing a white Christmas, or to cover up the barrenness of autumn landscape. Now it just piles it on in spite.

Passing Through

Today a person with whom I have served our Lord with for many years, awoke and had her life take a devastating turn. Though I do not know any of the details, I was informed by a tweet from our senior pastor -- technically her boss, but practically her friend and mentor -- that her husband had suffered a heart attack and died this morning.

How to you wake up -- suffer this breath sucking catastrophe. What do you do all day. How to you move, think or be. Much must be required of her. Her daughters need her to be a mother to their loss of their father. But how do you breathe? Arrangements must be made, plans and events ordered. But how do you interact with people.

Lord, I thank you for your presence. Your Holy Spirit that provides for us in times like these. I pray that in these coming days you will empower and direct the events for Vicki. For her daughters, I ask that you will comfort them and help them as they find their fatherless way. May floods of delightful and warm memories wash around and through them. May the reality of your promises of eternity and your presence buoy them as they want to simply sink.

May I live each day in the delight of a future that ends in your everlasting. May I not resent as those mortals that I love, respect or those I care about love and respect face the stark reality that You know the times for us.

I trust you now for the Windfeldts.

Stand to Reason: Raise Children in the Lord

Stand to Reason: Raise Children in the Lord

Releasing my Grip

It is a process -- this letting go. It is a pleasure -- this releasing to fly. It is a problem -- the amount to step away. It is profound -- this relationship with children.

June is almost over. It has required a bit more than I anticipated.

Both my children have captured my attention in a new way over this past month. How naive to have thought that my role in their lives would devolve into one that required of me less, and provided for more me. I find the redefining process quite a test: of my faith, of my reason, of my prayer life, of my emotions. For when either set of brown eyes engage mine -- with a whisp of need, of sadness, of disappointment, of questioning -- it rarely brings me to an easy place. It requires a mental glance into my of source book of experience, and then a surge of pragmatism as to whether to intercede or let the glancer dig deeper to provide their answer to their need. Truth be told, I am hoping there are more times that they get their own trowels out and begin their adventure, but some primal urge to provide for them is always close to the surface.

Our life circumstances have been filled with much ado about Tommy for over a year now. Now, inject the arm break and Laura's transportation issues, her first employment in an office setting, her friendships and transition to home life after 2 years, and with a flourish add the full time employment which is an ever changing canvas of demands, and you have a woman who has waves of anxiety -- because in reality she has taken her eyes off the Provider for spots of time, who calculates and devises paths of success for all she cares about, and spends little time reflecting on the Word, resting in her Lord, and quietly listening for His voice. Now if that is not a recipe for exhaustion, what is?

So, I am attempting to set up some boundaries. I am intentionally injecting the Word, and Prayer journaling, and attempting to engage in meaningful conversation with other pilgrims following Jesus the Nazarene. It will lighten my load. It will recharge my drained cells. It will provide the wisdom for the eye locked questions posed by my young adults.

I know what to do -- if you think of me, please pray that my intentions will become my reality. Indeed, I hope this for you as well, my friends.

So this emptying and refilling of my nest will be covered by His grace. The celebrations will be sweeter, the absences will reflect fonder, and the reunions will be more precious. I am keeping on. Keep on with me, won't you?

Grad Parties

The Southwest Christian High School grad open houses are in full swing.

Thankfully, my son's party is occurring on in but a few days. The entire event is hard on the family dynamic -- pitting me as She Wolf against each of them for not reading my mind, acting promptly on my requests, or seeing the immensity of the task before us. If I don't have an exploded head or have not eliminated the unproductive persons in the family -- it will be nothing short of a miracle.

Truth be told I am somewhat miserable at delegating. Either the person to whom the request is made is not immediately responsive, or my patience in communicating the details that are transforming themselves in my brain, going from fuzzy to crystalized --it always seems to be easier to do it myself than to explain what needs to be done.

So, I have been incrementally purchasing parts of the fare and decorations and planning for many weeks now. I am weary of the process. Why are the last few steps so laborious? What plagues my mind is the concept of the same people attending each others parties, serving similar foods and moving like Monty Python's illustrations. Can you picture the muttering mob moving around the SW suburbs?

I have a few days to finish the preparations... Laura and her classmates and some friends of mine are anticipating Monday's event. It will be a party. It will not stand up to those whose mothers have kept baby books, organized scrapbooks, or digitized all their photos. Drat my random brain. I can only trust that my love has surrounded my children better than my organization of their accomplishments and creation of mementos. Hopefully my being fully present in their lives will take center stage of their memories, and not my inabilities capture them entirely in photos and artistic finery.

Then I can begin a full out grieving of my emptying nest.