Ain’t nothing like the real thing

 I’ve wanted to post a blog for days and I just couldn’t get the words out. They still might appear as a jumbled mess but it feels fake to hold back the words inside that hurt and only let out the words that could impress or inspire. 

Our countdown with Bunny is on - 98 days today. See - it would’ve been more impressive to do this two days earlier and have some pithy writing about 100 days. If I’m honest, I’ve giggled while singing the verse of “100 bottles of beer on the wall” that corresponds with the count every morning. 

This is just plain hard. Because 100 days still felt like an eternity - not a moment for celebration. Because the next 100 days include thanksgiving and Christmas and another birthday for my boys. Because 100 days doesn’t change the devastating phone call two days ago when she tried to relive how this year could have been different if this never happened. Or our discussion on the number of moments she could have made a different choice that would change her path. 

I’m not surprised hearing her think about these things now - it’s the same stuff running through my head. Because this last 100 days isn’t just hard to finish waiting - it’s the year anniversary of so many low moments. 100 days includes the last time the 5 of us were under the same roof in West Lafayette. It’s the one-year anniversary of the conversation she and I had over thanksgiving break when I asked her to move with me after Christmas and she said no. It’s the one-year anniversary of the fight we had - a moment I lost my cool and she was so wounded that it’s part of the court proceedings. 

100 days of living through painful memories. Another couple holidays that will be lumped into the pile of trying to get through it but needing to do something because the boys shouldn’t have to forfeit the “most wonderful time of the year” just because their sister is gone. 

So there you go folks - the count is on.....and we will just keep counting. 

Wind and other miraculous forces

 We had a fairly windy day this week and now the trees are mostly bare. While you cannot see the wind, it’s easy to see it’s handiwork and experience it’s force. Trees were swaying, with leaves being scattered to the ground, people had to walk leaning their bodies forward into gusts, bracing themselves to keep from being pushed off course. Loose debris on the road skimmed above the surface until it crashed into a pole or fence or some other fixed object. And in the sky the clouds rushed across the great expanse as if they were running late and needed to rush to some other part of the world. 

You can’t see it, but you know it’s moving. 

Jesus tells the wind to be silent and the disciples fear him - who is this man that even the wind and waves obey him? 

Jesus scares us for the same reason we don’t want to trust wind - power, invisible, unpredictable. Just as Jesus can move the wind and waves, he moves in our hearts, across space and time - he moves powerfully - invisibly - unpredictably. 

But the wind’s power is often seen in destruction - capsizing boats, destroying homes, uprooting crops, and causing torrents of water to flood the land. Fearing the wind is natural because we aren’t sure we are safe.

Jesus’ power is so intimidating that it can be difficult to feel safe around him - and sometimes we are called into circumstances that don’t seem safe at all. But Jesus is good - and his power - even greater than the wind - brings healing - restoration - wholeness. 

I may not be able to see Jesus - but I see Him on the move. I see him moving when 10 people (many who do not know each other) work together to make these quilts for the girls. I see him moving after receiving donations from 13 different households- completely covering the cost of the quilts. 

Don’t let me paint a false picture here - it isn’t easy. This time seems to get longer with each passing day. And walking this path is like walking uphill into gale force winds - requiring every ounce of strength and courage I have. But I also have the strength that comes from knowing that I do do not walk alone.

Amy Grant has an old song (How can we see that far) that says “The mighty wind that knocks us down if we lean into it, will drive our fears away.” 

There are times that God hides us in the cleft of a rock face and His great wind passes by us. There are times His voice comes on the softest breeze. There are times God himself will silence the wind and waves on our behalf. And there are times the storm will continue to rage around us - and we have to press into it - because He is moving. And the violence of the wind whipping around us will not be our destruction - but will make us whole.