Writers In The Storm

We celebrated Christmas at my grandmother-in-law’s yesterday. Ninety-three-years-old and still living independently. Family members lined the walls, lounged on the floor, and grabbed places on sofas and chairs when someone relinquished their spot in search of more chocolate truffles.

I remember when she first moved to this home. She announced to everyone she didn’t want to clutter it up like her last home. She had plenty of decorations and housekeeping items. She didn’t need anything.

Made it hard to shop at Christmas.

Twenty years ago the options included consumables, restaurant gift cards, movies, and books. Jewelry. Photos tucked into albums or exchanged with older photos in already-displayed frames.

Today she has a limited diet and driving isn’t an option, so restaurant gift cards are out. She can’t fasten jewelry anymore. Retrieving photo albums from the shelf is a major undertaking.

Most days she sits in her lift-chair and watches the trees across the street blow in the wind. Her mobility is limited; she can’t raise her arms above elbow-level. Each step requires monumental effort. Relatives of her generation and siblings have already passed away. Most of her friends from church have gone on to glory. Her daughters visit on a daily basis to check on her, and grandkids stop by occasionally. A neighbor takes her to church; it isn’t the church she fellowshipped in for more than fifty years, but it’s still a blessing.

Before we showered Grandma with presents, we all played the familiar Chinese gift exchange. Five-dollar gifts aren’t a lot to get excited about, but watching Grandma was-she giggled like a child when a gift was stolen and complaints were offered about losing a coveted bottle of lavender bath soap. We stole gifts from Grandma just to give her the fun of opening new gifts (she never has the heart to “steal” a gift from anyone else).

After the game, it was time for Grandma to open her gifts. She made eye contact with each gift-giver and politely thanked them. Trash bags were filled with boxes of ribbon and discarded wrapping paper. As the afternoon wound down and we hugged her goodbye, she said to each one of us with tears in her eyes, “Thank you for coming-it means so much to me.” And I was reminded that the gift we so carefully selected and wrapped wasn’t what she cherished this Christmas.

Spending time with family was her gift.

A lot of things in life make me smile—falling leaves, football, and dark chocolate, for starters. I also get a kick out of watching my kids watch movies—they giggle and laugh out loud, even in a theater full of people. My youngest daughter Grace coaxes a smile every time we say goodbye to each other; she gives the extended version with each departure—bye-see-you-later-I-love-you as if it were all one word. The way Bethany hugs her cat makes everyone smile—a death-grip around the neck with kisses on the nose. Funny thing, the cat keeps coming back for more.

Chaperoning the prom and getting a ringside perch to cheer my son and daughter on to second place all-around winners in the swing dance competition, and eavesdropping as they play the piano and sing when they think no one’s listening. My son’s smile when his special needs sister says something that doesn’t make sense to most people.

The list goes beyond my kids. My husband’s wit, snow, moonlit ocean waves, sunsets with clouds, cool breezes, thunder, rain—misty rain and pouring rain and steady rain, take-your-breath-away-cold weather, West Texas farmland and dust devils, armadillos and jack rabbits, the coo of dove, hanging out with my brothers, a fire in the fireplace, warm socks and cozy blankets, a dog’s howl (especially if it sounds like a beagle), a cat chasing its own tail, hot English tea with cream and one sugar cube, Dr. Pepper, fireworks, and patriotic songs. Friends who know my heart, even my failures, and love me anyway.

God often puts a smile on my face, too—the way He orchestrates circumstances as One who knows every detail of my life and, like a faithful friend, really cares. He leads me to Bible verses that seem placed in-between the leather covers just for me, and answers prayers (sometimes with a yes and other times, a no). I even laugh out loud at some of the answers, especially the ones that are secrets between God and me.

The other day, I added another thing to my list. I was cradling a cup of tea on my front porch, watching the ants forge new paths across the sidewalk, and I heard my daughters’ laughter. They were teaching piano lessons next door, the oldest daughter as the full-fledged teacher and the youngest, the student teacher. The sound of their voices came from my neighbor’s porch when they stole my attention from the ants.

I watched Karis and Grace walk down the neighbor’s sidewalk to the street and turn toward our house, with the morning sun bouncing off their hair. I couldn’t make out any details on their faces, except for the smiles. They were laughing and smiling. They clearly enjoyed each other. And that made me smile.

I remember the first time that I really understood that God talked to Moses. Until I read the bible first-hand *, I thought the burning bush–so nicely depicted by Cecil B. deMille–was the extent of God’s conversation with Moses. I expected the subsequent messages to be more like an unspoken whisper, or a tug of conscience.

But God spoke with Moses. Directly. Routinely. As He would to a friend.

When the Hebrews wandered the desert for forty years, due to their sin, God led them in the daytime by a pillar of cloud and at night by a pillar of fire. That was God in His glorious image, as least what we could handle of it. When they settled for a while, Moses went to the Tent of Meeting to fellowship with God. They spoke about national matters, tribal matters, personal matters.

Prayer is like that. We get to commune with God. I don’t claim that he talks to me directly. Though I have heard him whisper. Twice quite clearly. But his unseen hand has guided my path on many occasion. I see the results in my rear-view mirror.

No pillars for me.

I’m not quick to ascribe something as God’s will for my life. I’ve seen it used to manipulate others, excuse sin, and rationalize doing exactly what someone was going to do anyway. I’ve got enough trouble without using God’s name in vain.

One of my wonderful nephew’s graduated from High School this spring. Way to go, Jimmy! We were asked by his parents to send along some words of theoretical wisdom for him as he heads off to college. I’ll share one of my cultured pearls here:

       Don’t be afraid to make a decision, but don’t be in a hurry either.

       Give the decision over to God.

       Get all the facts you can–notice I said facts, not opinions.

       Ask for His direction.

       Decide.

       Then don’t bother second guessing it.

God always shows up. He won’t reach us each the same way. For one it’s a whisper, for another it’s a shout. Rarely have I been clearly on God’s path while I walked it. That’s why I keep a keen eye on my rear-view mirror.

* Read the book. Don’t wait for the movie.

Last week, the calligraphy addressed invitations arrived in everyone’s mailboxes. Yesterday, she purchased shoes that match her dress. They sit in her closet waiting for the big day. The young lady reserved a ranch for the reception and a whole suite of hotel rooms for out-of-town guests. On the girl’s finger a ring sparkles.

After months of preparation and planning, she walks the aisle in three more days.

When she extends her hand to receive her diploma, a chapter of her life will end while another unfolds. The paper certificate represents approximately 16,480 classroom hours; plus evenings studying, writing research papers, and attending extra-curricular activities.

Break out the fine china and warm up the band. An investment of this magnitude deserves celebrating.

But do we ever overlook day-to-day accomplishments that deserve recognition? When did you last celebrate completing a task? Accomplishing a goal? Meeting an objective?

Celebrating big and small victories helps us to Live Above Neutral. Next time you finish cleaning the bathrooms, updating your children’s scrapbooks or e-filing your income taxes, celebrate:

Buy a bouquet of flowers. Bake a treat and enjoy with a glass of milk. Take a vanilla-cream bubble bath.

What can you celebrate today?