What A Trip

trip n. an act of going to a place, and returning.

A wise friend often said, “When God wants to teach you something, God takes you on a trip.”

Having just returned from a 6 week trip across the pond, his words ring as true as ever.

It’s not like God is a travel agent making all the arrangements, a tour guide explaining all about the sights out the bus window, or the flight attendant making sure we can just sit back, relax, and enjoy the flight. No, I think God just loves to travel, and knows that anytime we go from here to there and back again, there is the possibility for transformation. That we will come back changed by our experience. That we will see through new eyes in some small or big ways. That our hearts will open a bit more to the wonder and mystery that is always ours for the noticing.

Iceland was stunningly beautiful. Wild, dramatic, and mystical, one has to be made of sturdy stuff to live there. Sometimes called the land of fire and ice, life seems to hang a bit more precariously in the balance in Iceland. It was there that we learned that my husband’s brother had just been diagnosed with multiple myeloma. Close to complete kidney failure, it was nip and tuck as to his future. Thanks to excellent medical care, groundbreaking research, and lots, and lots, and lots of prayer, the future is brighter. But what is true is that in the blink of an eye, everything changed. Yesterday life looked one way, the next, completely different. Except for one small but mighty truth. There has never been a guarantee of anything beyond the present moment, which means that the present moment is everything. It means that we need to be exactly where our feet are, without knowing if that footing will hold.

England was the location of the “Farewell Tour” for my right knee. I’m giving myself a new one for my birthday this fall, and wanted to give the old girl one final adventure by hiking 100 miles around the Lake District. Green, vast, and pastoral, every day was different as we walked along roads dating back to the Bronze Age, wandered past Beatrix Potter’s farm, and hiked across fields with stone walls built by the Romans. As one friend put it, old paths made new again by our footsteps. Every day there were multiple trails to reach our next destination, and the guidebook was less than clear. Ours (well, Tom’s) was the job of finding the right route for us. Given my knee, the number of trips we’ve both taken around the sun, and the risk of getting lost, it was a somewhat daunting task that couldn’t be left to chance. One day in particular gave us the most pause. Lots of elevation gain, tricky descents, clouds that roll in on a moment’s notice, and the possibility of finding ourselves on the wrong ridge too late in the day. Because of his attention to all of the factors, his experience in the wilderness, his map reading and way-finding skills, and his ridiculous love for me, the day that was the most daunting turned out to be the most dazzling. Our bodies were up to the task, the views spectacular, and the satisfaction that comes when we accomplish something challenging together was worth every one of those 24,199 steps.

It’s not that going off trail is a bad idea. In fact, some of the most magical things happen when we head out on the way less traveled. This just wasn’t one of those times. The consequences and risks were too big. Good to know when to do which.

Scotland was our final and most important destination. It was our chance to once again jump into life with our daughter and her family as she completes her Ph.D program. Her husband (who loves all things golf) works on a golf course in St. Andrews, the birthplace of golf, and their three wee-ish boys ages 8,6, and 4 are getting an education that goes far beyond the classroom. For two and a half weeks we did life together in all its messy wonderment. Forest walks, endless stories, family meals, bath times, bed times, snuggles, home improvement projects, and all the big feelings that life elicits inside the walls of a home.

It’s a long way from home and family. 4,536 miles to be exact. Family matters. Home matters. Their family is there. Their family is here. Their home is there. Their home is here. If they didn’t feel so certain that they are smack dab in the middle of where life is calling them, it would be almost unbearable. But they are certain, and so are we, which not only makes it bearable, but beautiful. This chapter is writing the story that is, and will be, their life. On an afternoon walk, my daughter and I talked about the pain of distance, the passing of time, and the promise of loss and grief that are sure to come. Great love and great pain go together. There is no other way. It is the price of admission to a rich and full-hearted life, and costly as that may be, we will all gladly pay the price.

When God wants to teach you something, God takes you on a trip.

Delight

God looked over everything God had made;
    it was so good, so very good!
It was evening, it was morning—
Day Six.

Genesis 1:31

I’ve always loved the biblical story of creation. Not because it is literally true, but because of the much deeper truth contained in that story. It says, in no uncertain terms, that this is a good place. So good in fact, that gazing out over all that She had made, God declared it not just good, but very good.

In other words, God was delighted, and wants us to be too. Delight is woven into the fabric of the world as a reminder that we live in a very good place. Moments of delight await us if we but keep our wits about us.

Take this past Wednesday for example. On my way back from an appointment I heard my inner marching orders. Get thee to the Goodwill. Now, finding a parking place in Hood River, Oregon at the start of the tourist season can be a miracle in itself, and after a couple of laps around the block I was tempted to forget it and head back home.

Get thee to the Goodwill.

Alright already, I hear you.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

My favorite hiking boots—ever—are my Lowa Renegades. They are nothing short of a match made in heaven, so shelling out the $250 for them at REI a few years ago wasn’t an act of faith, it was a no-brainer. Recently I’ve been thinking about purchasing another pair before they are discontinued. I want to be as well equipped for the trail for as long as I can before it’s time for me to exit stage left. However, seeing as how the stock market ain’t what it’s been the last few years, I decided that fiscal prudence was the better policy.

Back to the Goodwill.

Car finally parked, I headed up the block. Walking through the door I was on the lookout for whatever it was that I was there for. Rounding a corner, nestled on a rack, was a brand new pair of Lowa Renegades. A perfect pair. Of my favorite boots. In my size. It was also Elder Appreciation Day which meant that with my ten percent discount, I’m delighted to say, they were only $44.99.

Now I know that one girl’s delight can be another man’s dismay. Walking through the doors of a thrift shop might not ring your chimes, but something will. Be on the lookout for it. Watch for it. Listen for it.

If we keep our wits about us, moments of delight will appear on our path to remind us that despite any evidence to the contrary—and there’s plenty—we are part of a world that isn’t just good. It is very good.

Let’s delight in that.

The Whole Thirty-One

There is something called the Whole30. An eating program designed to reprogram the way we eat, and the ways in which we think about food. I’m a fan. It has worked for me in the past, and when I am in need of a reset, I will return to it again.

Loosely, it goes something like this. For thirty days, cut out all dairy, added sugars, legumes, grains, and alcohol, choosing instead to consume real food including good protein, plenty of vegetables, fruits, and ample amounts of natural fats. By the grace of God, you can still have coffee.

There were days when this it felt like an impossible assignment. I did it anyway.

There were days, when I felt like a total fraud. I did it anyway.

There were days when I wanted to give in and give up. I did it anyway.

Every time I have completed the Whole30 (and occasionally, the Whole60 or 90) I have felt better. Lots better. More energy, better sleep, increased clarity, and a more positive outlook (after the initial crankiness wears off).

I’m not jumping back on the Whole30 bandwagon just yet, but the program has me thinking about how these same principles—cutting out things that can have a detrimental impact on our health and wellbeing, and consuming instead what will nourish and fuel our lives more effectively—might transfer to other areas of our lives.

Welcome to the Whole Thirty-One: Soul Food Style

Loosely, it goes something like this. For the next 31 days, cut out all negative self-talk, fear-based language, and scarcity thinking, choosing instead to begin each day with a positive mindset, language seasoned with gratitude and grace, and the faith that what is needed will be provided. By the grace of God, you can still have coffee.

There will be days when this will feel like an impossible assignment. I will do it anyway.

There will be days, when I will feel like a total fraud. I will do it anyway.

There will be days when I will want to give in and give up. I will do it anyway.

This sounds like good food for thought to me. Maybe it does to you too.

Welcome to Day 1

The Parking Space

You know those people who always find a parking space right when and where they need it?? I know. Right?!

I’m one of them.

When we first got married I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why Tom always took the first parking spot he found, even if it was in the last space in the last row in the last outskirts of the parking lot. Not that this approach is all bad. It assures us of a spot, gives us a little more exercise, and is usually closer to the exit when it’s time to leave.

However.

It didn’t occur to him that a better spot would show up, and being the easy, laidback guy that I love, he was good with that. I wasn’t. It didn’t occur to me that a better spot wouldn’t show up. Case in point. Last Saturday we had to head in to Hood River to pick up food from the caterer for an event later that day. Weekends in our bustling little tourist mecca start to heat up this time of year, and parking spaces can be hard to come by. Unless you’re me. About a half an hour before it was time to pick up the food, we were sitting in a shady spot having a little lunch and Tom mentioned that it might be virtually impossible to find a parking spot near, much less in front of Boda’s Kitchen on a busy Saturday, especially since they are located in the heart of downtown. He would drop me off and then drive around the block while I ran in to pick things up.

First of all, this would make things challenging as there were going to be multiple large trays to bring out. And second of all, after 25 years together, let’s have a little more faith here.

Heading up the hill we could see Boda’s, and the parking spaces in front were taken. He looked a tiny bit smug.

Oh ye of little faith.

Just as we drove over the cross street before Boda’s, the car smack-dab in front of the entrance pulled out, and just like that, we slid in, I retrieved our order, and in short order, we were on our way.

This kind of thing has happened more times than I can count, and I’m not quite sure what it means, except maybe the faith that we will have what we need when and where we need it.

As we pulled out of the parking space I tried not to act too smug, because we all know what cometh before a fall.

In The Image Of...

Somewhere along the way, most of us forget who we are, who we have been from the beginning, and who we are meant to be forever. It’s time we remembered. Because only in remembering who we are and living into our fullness, can we love, help, and heal the world that is within our reach, the errand upon which we all have been sent.

In case, like me, sometimes you forget too, let’s remember together.

We are all created in the image of God. Every single one of us.

Every.

Single.

One.

Of.

Us.

That sounds really good, right? I think so too. But what does in the image of God really mean?

Today, a question, posed by the Reverend Jacquie Lewis compels me to think more deeply about that, and I hope it will compel you too. Standing tall at the podium, speaking to the thousands of us gathered here in Albuquerque and around the world via webcast, she took a deep breath, and with fierce passion in her heart and tears in her eyes, asked: 

Why are we willing to settle for such a puny God? A God who is unimaginative, stingy, exclusionary, transactional, and punitive?  

Today, in Albuquerque, here is the answer that comes to mind. An answer I hope to spend the rest of my time living into with all of my heart, and all of my soul, and all of my mind.

We are all created in the image of a magnificent, creative, imaginative, abundant, inclusive, relational, and restorative God. Every single one of us.

Every.

Single.

One.

Of.

Us.

We are created in the image of the God who invites all, welcomes all, recognizes all, reconciles all, and who pours out amazing grace to all from a cup that forever runneth over.

Amen.