Someone Worth Writing About

At 10:30 last night, I sat down at the kitchen table prepared to write. Ideas and events had been swirling around in my head through days of constant activity; and though it had been weeks -- maybe months -- since any part of me had seen such a late hour of the night, I figured I'd strike while the iron was hot. At 10:31, our fifteen-year old plopped down into the chair across from me and the deluge began. She is in her second year of high school; there were schedules and friends to discuss. Somehow that all became a trip down memory lane filled with dozens of "do-you-remember-whens" -- many of which I did not. But she remembered. And, I hope, it is this night she will remember as well.

When Olivia and I first met, I and my children were a family of three; she, her dad, and her siblings made us a family of seven. I loved the noisy dinners and crazy bedtimes. I loved taking up pews and rows at the movie theater and SUVs and two lanes at the bowling alley. I loved the constant motion in our home; the hum of life. Olivia was a huge part of that hum for me; she and I bonded instantly. Her easy-going temperament and her transparency were a rare treat in one so young. Olivia, too, seemed to thrive on the excitement and activity of a full house; but she was, at the same time, her own person.

Only a short time later, my son, the oldest left our home; her brother and sister followed suit shortly thereafter. For the remaining few years my daughter remained in our home, she and Olivia never truly bonded. But Olivia was always there, hanging with me in the kitchen, talking on our rides home, and weathering the emptiness that came whenever others moved on. With Olivia and I, it was never blood or biology, but the moments we spent laughing and talking to one another that made us family.

So, this is it; this is what I have to offer my readers. Not much to speak of with regard to profundity or motivation. Just gratitude. For an incredible daughter, a strong and truly courageous young woman, and nights when writing is not nearly as important as living. I'm gonna remember this.

There Came a Season

Seasons. To most of the world, seasons revolve around weather or dates on a calendar or festivals or even birthdays. At the beginning of this year, I developed a "four-year plan." In four years, my company is making some changes to its pension plan, and my plan was to get out before that happened. My prayer with regard to my goal went something like this:

"Dear Lord, I can't see the logic in staying past the proposed revision date. I would like to be out before this change takes place, and I believe to do so would be to be a good steward of all You have given us; so I am going to work toward that end. I know You can do anything, and if it is Your will I stay longer than than the four years. I know You will make that clear, and You will care for us. Whatever Your will."

I started getting things in order. And it began to look like my plan was in agreement with His plan. Until...

...there came a season. In this season, this 50+ year old woman and her same age husband immediately became responsible for two very young lives. In this season, our lives have become an open book to any state agency with a microscope. In this season, we lose sleep and square footage. In this season, we comfort and console only to be told how much the people who hurt them so badly are missed. In this season, we repeat over and over, rules and lessons and reassurances. In this season, we repeat over and over, rules and lessons and reassurances. (See what I did there?) This season is not what we had planned. This season was supposed to be past. This season was not on our radar -- at all!

Exodus 15:22, tells us the Israelites spent three days in the Wilderness of Shur, unable to find water. Now, I am not sure if this means they hadn't actually had anything to drink, but they were, at the very least, watching their water supply dwindle to nothing. In verse 23, they arrive at the bitter waters of Marah. "Water, water everywhere, nor any drop to drink." After days of God's faithfulness regarding their water supply, they were certain they'd found "real relief" at Marah. But God wanted them to trust Him more; He stretched them a little further. It wasn't until Moses cried out to God on behalf of the people that God made the water good to drink.

In this season, we are discovering the gift of God's grace and His strength. In this season, we are discovering that God can do amazing and supernatural things through us and for us, provided we are following His plan. In this season, we are finding the impossible becomes possible when it is ordained and brought to fruition by God. In this season, we are learning that stretching and molding are part of the Christian life -- and they are much less painful when we surrender to them. In this season, we are reassured that God's ways are higher than our ways, and His plans for His children are always good.