Archive for September, 2015

The Life of a Book

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My paternal grandfather didn’t set out to be a writer. In fact, I’m told he wanted to be an opera singer. These aspirations took him traveling across Germany where he learned to speak the language fluently and, as it turns out, fell in love with the life and writings of Martin Luther. So much so that he translated many from the original German because he felt existing translations had missed the mark.

FullSizeRender (6)-001In his diligence and with study and devotion, John W. Rilling eventually became a Lutheran minister, pastor, and preacher. He also, as it turns out, became a writer. Today, I am privileged to have possession of a “first edition,” hard back copy entitled, “Have a Good Day”… Sermons by John W. Rilling. Inscribed on the inside cover:

“To John, my son,

Tolle Lege! Tolle lege!

Dum vivimus, vivamus!!

Dad

11/20/58″

I, not knowing the Latin which would have been the language of the Learned and the Church in Dr. Rilling’s day, happily used my modern day technology to attempt translation:

“To John, my son,” …. not, to my son John, which would have sounded trite and diminishing, but to John, my son, which echos a voice from heaven which speaks, this is my Son, whom I love, my only son. As my father was to his father.

“Tolle Lege! Tolle lege!”… Take up and read! Apparently from the account of Augustine’s conversion to Christ in his spiritual autobiography ‘Confessions’. My grandfather read widely. His home office and study was filled floor to ceiling with books of the great thinkers of the day and of history. These were his plea to his son, who did not take much to books but rather to fixing and tinkering, to go himself to Word and words and find the truth for himself.

“Dum vivimus, vivamus!!” … While we live, let us live. Don’t wait. Don’t waste a moment. Do it now!! Grandfather’s hand has corrected the spelling of the first “vivimus” which he originally wrote “vivamus, vivamus.” He edited himself, in pen, in inscription, because the proper tense was essential for understanding.

It is amazing what meaning travels down across generations. I am not sure my father, John F. Rilling, ever read this book, though it kept its place on a bookshelf spanning many moves, many jobs, many travels. It came to him 5 months after the birth of his first child, a son. And remained through life’s changes, including the last. My father died a year ago and his beloved wife saved the book for me.

Today, as I read it, sermon by sermon, it shows me who my grandfather was. I had an inkling but must confess I did not know him. The book literally speaks across generations. The phrasing and the storytelling, the meaning so subtle and profound, the message as true today as it was in the 1950’s when it was spoken to a dear congregation. It begs me to read it out loud. So powerful are its thoughts, I have to take a day or two between readings to digest what he’s written.  Who knew the old could be made so new again?

Such is the power of words, carefully culled and selected, so they might be collected in a book to be published and shared. And signed. What a treasure. What a trust. What a miracle.

If today we communicate wirelessly by an internet we can’t see, is it so impossible that words may speak across generations and even, perhaps, across the veil?

My grandfather could not have known when he wrote them that I would ever read his words. They were published before I was born. Yet, they have landed on me and touched me deeply. Gone straight to the heart of another one who didn’t set out to be a writer, rather a thinker and a doer. But something in me kept nagging…you’ve got to write that book so others can know and do for themselves…you can write that book.

“While we live, let us live!

Letting Love Show

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photo 2

Using our bodies may be the most sacred of all things we do on earth. It’s the one thing we are given that is meant to be used wholly for our time here on our earth – our LIFE-time.

The greatest testimony of all, beyond the life of our Lord, is our own life as we live it.

  • We can castigate bullies, but if we are one, that means nothing.
  • We can warn against the dangers of texting and driving, but if we do it, it means nothing.
  • We can champion self-respect, but if we have none, it means nothing.
  • We can caution against failing to set healthy boundaries, but it we fail to, it means nothing.

We, the wise, older set, who have lived life and have something to say, are resounding gongs and clanging symbols in the lives of those we love if we say one thing and do another. We become noise-makers, adding additional volume but no more meaning.

This, I believe, is why the biblical Paul so passionately begins his plea to the people of Corinth this way:

“If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing.If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing.”

This precedes the beautiful “love chapter” of the Bible often read at weddings. Of the love that is patient and kind and doesn’t envy or boast. The love that’s not self-seeking, isn’t prideful or easily angered and keeps no record of wrongs. That perfect love which never fails.

That’s the love we can never quite live up to but which sets an example to reach for in our lives with another, and with all others, including ourselves.

First, we have to let that love come alive and be real in us, before we try to pawn it off on someone else. Otherwise, our hypocrisy is telling, and they will probably waste no time telling us! When we say one thing, but do another, it’s our unloving that’s showing.

We have to start with love, both for ourselves and the other – not an easy task. It requires perspective beyond ourselves to set a right course for our intentions and priorities. When we invite an honest look at the lives we are leading, we can align our thoughts, words and actions with the love God intends.

When we start with love, what we say and do makes a whole lot more sense.

Sneak Attacks of Joy

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photo 1You sneaky Joy

You wait just ’round the corner
poised to … leap
just as soon as I
come your way.

There you are across the street
as I open the door to the new day.

Is that you who tickled me
as I watched the children playing
and the teens jostling
and the white-haired couple holding hands?

Surely it was you
who teared me up at the sight
of what I had always wanted
but didn’t know it, until just then.

Could you have been there, too,
when the man who had just lost his wife to cancer
handed me the empty dish
his wife had lovingly labeled with my name
so it might find its owner once she was gone?

Oh, Joy.
So surprised by you,
So disguised are you,
In your many faces,
many spaces,
hiding places,
deep recesses,
broad expanses.

You are stealth,
You are sneaky,
But I’ve got your number.
I see you.
I know you.
Because I have met you.
You are in me, of me, all around me.
You don’t scare me.

Oh, Joy.
Come.

Writer’s Dilemma

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I have a love-hate relationship with writing. I hate getting started, but I love what I find once I get there.

Just Jordan

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FullSizeRender (8)Ok, so Jordan captured me, too! (the same Jordan Pastor Tom mentioned in his e-note). She told me she hoped I would come by her bake sale from 1-3:30pm where she would be raising money for children in Sierra Leone. Who can resist a 7 year old with a sincere smile, a passionate plea and a great cause?

Just as I was thinking, Hey! I could share this on my Facebook page, Tom Berlin swept by and, in a stage whisper, told her, “You should give your paper to her. She’ll post it on her Facebook page. She knows people.”

Irony of ironies, this is the same Tom Berlin who had just preached to us about the evils of social media which all too often distracts us from the important things all around us. So of course, I took that paper, snapped a photo, and shared it via Facebook, tagging Tom in the comments (although not in the post since I knew he would be checking his smart phone during the next service.)

FullSizeRender (10)Suddenly, Facebook friends and neighbors who were not even connected with Floris or any church, told me they were planning on going out to support Jordan. So, about 3:15, I drove up to the Safeway and spotted the neon green poster (matching the flyer) on the front of a table outside the store. I strode up expecting to see Jordan and her friends, or Jordan and her brownie troop or Jordan and her soccer team, but no, it was just Jordan. And her Dad. Before I even crossed the street, Jordan looked my way and said, “Hey, that’s the lady I gave my paper to!”

Dad and daughter had been there since 1:00, visiting with folks who stopped by. Jordan tells me some were friends, including one lady who wrote them a “big” check. One was from Hutchison Elementary who said she wanted to help out because Floris supported their school. Another bought some bottled water for them because they “looked hot,” and a couple more dozen bought a baked good or just donated for the cause. “Mostly, they were just nice people who said thanks for doing this,” Jordan says.

It’s the cause that’s important to Jordan. She knows she is fortunate to have so much and that Sierra Leone is one of the poorest countries in the world. She wants those kids to have what they need, like she does. Jordan’s not new to fundraising. She set up a lemonade stand last spring as part of the Imagine No Malaria campaign. “That did pretty well,” she tells me, “but I thought I could do better at the shopping center near my house because more people would come by.”

Jordan picked where to set up her table by watching to see how busy the places were so she could maximize her traffic flow. Her first choice store turned her down saying, “the manager might get mad.” Undaunted, she told her Dad, “Let’s just go somewhere else.”

“Kevin, the manager at Safeway was very welcoming,” Neal Ramsey said, surprised given the huge number of requests he probably gets. The employees were probably pretty happy, too, because they got the leftovers from Jordan’s baking – brownies, Rice Krispy treats and chocolate chip cookies.

FullSizeRender (9)Jordan collected an even $200 for her afternoon’s work (actually $199 but Mom and Dad made it an even $200). She’s not keeping any, she assures me. All of it will go to the church so they can use it for the children who need it. Will she have another fundraiser? Jordan thinks so. Probably in the spring. She’s not sure if her friends will come, but she’s sure her Dad will.

Neal says, there’s nothing he’d rather do than spend time with his daughter, chatting about ‘whatever’ all afternoon. He says the fund raising is her idea. “It’s hard to stop her. She pulls us along with her. When she says she wants to do this, what am I gonna do, watch football?”

Nope. No tv here. No phones, tablets or screens in sight. When I tell her that I hope to share the story about what she is doing, she thinks that’s okay. “Maybe my friends will see what I did and they’ll do it too and it will keep going and going and we’ll get lots of money for the children.” When I ask if I can take her picture for the blog, she smiles and says yes. Then she doesn’t smile for the picture. This is serious business, after all.

On my way back to the car, after donating and selecting my chocolate chip cookies, Jordan has me thinking about the privilege and the power of social media. So often we caution our children about its dangers. ‘Don’t get caught up in it.’ ‘Be careful what you share.’ ‘You don’t know who’s reading.’

What if they live a life so admirable and so transparent that it can be freely shared in the hope that others will see, and be inspired to join in. Just like Jordan.

“…and a little child shall lead them.” ~ Isaiah 11:6

Running Twice as Fast Will Never Get you Here

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Ah fiction. It has so much truth to tell…

alice runs

They were running hand in hand, and the Queen went so fast that it was all Alice could do to keep up with her: and still the Queen kept crying “Faster! Faster!”… The most curious part of the thing was, that … however fast they went, they never seemed to pass anything…. “In our country,” said Alice, … “you’d generally get to somewhere else—if you ran very fast for a long time as we’ve been doing.”

“A slow sort of country!” said the Queen. “Now, here, you see, it takes all the running you can do, to keep in the same place. If you want to get somewhere else, you must run at least twice as fast as that.”

Lewis Carroll
Source: Through the Looking Glass

Funny, I was rooting for Alice. Not to pass anything, but to pass any one, because that is where I run. Not to get to somewhere, but to get ahead of someone. Who has the patience to fall in behind that slow car in the slow lane when there are so many places I need to get?

Alas, what if I set that vehicle on cruise control at the speed limit and thought no more about it? No worries about the police vehicle parked on the median. No concern about the motorist who stomps on the gas to power by me. No angst about the destination I will arrive at in measured time.

Imagine the worlds I might create with that clean sheet of brain space released on its own recognizance, free to travel wherever it pleased, all the while headed in the right direction?

Scaring Away the Dark with my Glow in the Dark-ness

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Looking-under-the-bed-250x187Not looking for monsters under my bed
or skeletons in my closet.
I’m looking around.
Trying to make my deposit.

Bring the light over here.
There’s darkness all around,
Being loud, Being bold,
Shouting down, I can’t be told.

No need to raise my voice,
The darkness nearest me
Is within whispering distance,
It can hear me,
It can see me.
Because I glow in the dark.

Glow-bracelttsNot a flashlight,
Not a cell phone,
Not a glow stick,
Or a ghost.
I’m a natural phenomenon.
No need to flip my switch.

Not an app,
or a fossil fuel,
My power’s clean,
got a renewable source.

Tech can’t touch me,
Dark can’t quench me,
Solar powered,
I’m on course.

Glow-In-the-Dark-Jar-Experiment-201206251-SummerScienceI can radiate
into any darkness,
any pain.
I’m not afraid.

Don’t want to clench it,
Don’t want to hold it,
Can’t outrun it,
It’s closing in.

I just wanna bring my glow,
into depths and canyons,
places dim
and dark
and cold.

?

With the sunrise, I’ll
fuel up again,
warmth and welcome
making me
bold.

I’ve got a Son-powered fuel source,
free for the asking,
the Man who deals it,
He’s my best friend.

It’s no secret,
No need to hide it,
I blend nicely
in the light of day.

Only when dusk comes,
and darkness moves on in,
When the monsters creep,
I come out, too,

glow-in-the-dark-shoesCan’t quite believe it,
But hey, look and see!
My fingertips, they’re alight!
Not only that,
but so is the
rest of me!

Darkness hides its eyes,
Monsters shrink away,
Quivering, quaking,
fear overtaking.
Run away,
coward,
go.

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