Waiting...

We have all waited. Waited in lines, in traffic, on the phone, for people, waiting. I still remember the last few days of waiting before our first child was born. As first time parents, we had prepared ourselves with Lamaze classes, and faithfully reading all the literature our doctor had suggested, but waiting was the hard part. Jason was born on his due date, so we didn't have to wait too long.

Today, is another waiting day. My 92 year old father has struggled with congestive heart failure for quite awhile. Like many people with congestive heart failure, he has had low moments when we thought the end was near, and then he would rally and have some great weeks and months. In the past week or so, he has begun a downward spiral that his hospice nurses tell us he probably will not recover from. For the past several days, since I've know about his current condition, I have spent hours praying and thinking about my parents, my siblings and our families. So many wonderful memories have come flooding into my mind as I've thought about our growing up days in San Jose, the summers our older children spent with their grandparents in the San Joaquin valley, and these past years in Ohio and North Carolina. I've thought about the character that was formed in me as I observed my dad. The core values that I hold dear because of his influence, the little things he demonstrated to me that are inseparable from my character. Lots of wonderful thoughts. Waiting thoughts.

But now we're waiting. Should we travel to North Carolina now, should we wait? What about his waiting? What is going through his mind? I'm sure he's had multiple conversations about this with his Savior. My dad has always been a student of the End Times, and because of it you could tell he had a tremendous sense of anticipation of being in Heaven. And now he's waiting. We're waiting.

Before long, my father will start another kind of waiting. He'll be in Heaven, spending time with his mother and father, and other relatives that have gone before him. And he'll be waiting for us. Waiting with a big smile on his face, completely healed, thoroughly enjoying his surroundings, and waiting...

My Favorite Season Of the Year

Last week I was forced to work in my yard. We had very forceful wind gusts come through St. Louis and one of those gusts knocked over a 40' tree in our backyard. The tree was nearly dead, and I had already decided that it needed to come down sometime this summer. I borrowed a saw and Sam and I cut the tree up, stacked all the wood, and cleaned up the area where the tree had fallen. When I was finished with the tree, I decided to do other spring cleanup. I cut down last year decorative grass stalks, pruned rose bushes and trimmed other plants we have in our back yard.

We all do the annual ritual of clearing away the dead stalks of plants that had their moment of glory and now give way to a new season. Pulling here, pruning there, deciding what to keep and what needs to go. Trying not to prune too much, but making sure each plant and tree will fill out nicely and thinking about new plants to purchase when the time comes.

The one thing I love about this time of year, and the thing that kept distracting me yesterday, was looking at all the bits of green. I love seeing nature wake up. Tiny buds that are just starting to open. Looking at Bradford Pear and Dogwood buds. Right now they are just tiny little balls, waiting for the right time to explode into color. I was even on my roof sweeping off the last of winter debris and saw the first Redbud blossoms about to burst open. I pulled last years dead plants away from all the daffodils and crocus plants, saw the first of those blooms and took a look at my rose bushes. In fact, the picture in the top right corner of this blog are some of the first daffodils of the season. Tiny bits of red and green where beautiful leaves will grow in a few weeks.

I was sore from moving wood and bending over to trim and prune, but my spirit was rejuvenated. Spring has a way of doing that. New life has a way creating a freshness that is renewing. Soon it will be the first day of Spring. This year God has been doing some trimming and pruning in my life, getting me ready for a new season. Thank you, God, for your care for us, and a wonderful reminder of Your life, in us.

The Bottomless Jar of Flour

Yesterday marked exactly nine months since Kathy and I started on a journey of unemployment. Never, in my most "worst case scenario" thoughts, did I think I would not have a job by now. The combination of the overall poor economy, churches operating conservatively, my age and general uncertainty, have combined to put us in this "never before in our lives" situation. Last week I was talking with a mortgage re-adjustment specialist and we were going over my income for the past months. Since I didn't have much to put down, he asked how much  unemployment pay I was getting. When I told him that the church I worked for did not pay into the unemployment pool, he was amazed that we had not applied for a mortgage re-adjustment sooner. It was great to talk with this man who interviews people all day long with horrendous financial situations, and tell him how, and Whom, was taking care of us.

I must admit, though, that I have had some very difficult days, mixed in with a some great days and a lot of just regular living. Leading up to my birthday last Friday, I was having a difficult Thursday. Early in this process, I had set a threshold that I did not want our savings to go under. In mid January, we got to that threshold. Miraculously, after all the bills, our missions giving, and living expenses were taken care of, we didn't cross the boundary I had set. February started the same way, and again, by the time February was over, we had gotten close, but our savings account was still a little above the line I determined I didn't want it to go under. I have begun to feel a little like the women in First Kings 17. She was out collecting a little firewood to bake a small loaf of bread for she and her son so they could eat it and lay down and die of starvation. Elijah says to her, "Don't be afraid. Go home and do as you have said. But first make a small cake of bread for me from what you have and bring it to me, and then make something for yourself and your son. For this is what the Lord, the God of Israel, says: 'The jar of flour will not be used up and the jug of oil will not run dry until the day the Lord gives rain on the land.'" (Early on, Kathy and I decided that we would continue our missions giving, even if it meant giving something else up that was important, but not as urgent) She went away and did as Elijah had told her. So there was food every day for Elijah and for the woman and her family. For the jar of flour was not used up and the jug of oil did not run dry, in keeping with the word of the Lord spoken by Elijah. 

Back to Thursday...so here I was, on one hand rejoicing because of God's faithfulness and feeling like this woman in First Kings, and then at the same time feeling a little panicky because we had a new month, and we had to do it all over again. When I brought in the mail, in among the advertisements, junk mail and a couple of bills, was a card from two of our wonderful friends. Inside the card was a check labeled "Ash Wednesday Offering." It was for an amount that would carry us through half of March! As I held the card, and the check, it felt like my hands were covered in flour and oil. I can imagine Elijah, with a "isn't this fun" look on his face, nodding his approval at God's provision for us. If you are desperate for God's provision, maybe you ought to look in your flour jar...