I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Wade Lowrey, dead? There they were, the Facebook messages one after another expressing sadness and shock; yet each one laced with hope and joy. My friend Wade died last night. He was only 34.
Within one week I lost two dear friends - both of them under age 40. Much, much too young to die. At the same time, a tiny one week old baby is clinging precariously to life in a Seattle hospital and my 73 year old sister-in-law is living what appear to be her last days. My friend Jen at 83 is talking a lot about this lately. She suffered a small stoke a few months back and feels the tug of heaven more each day. I know she (not so) secretly wishes that Jesus would just carry her to heaven as she sleeps one night - I think it might just be God's humor to let her outlive all of us.
I know that this earthly life is temporary. I know it, yet I don't always live that way. I've been thinking about what really matters in life so much these past few weeks. As I prepare to move from Chehalis and leave my dear friends at Bethel Church, I've weighed my words and thought much about what I want to say to each one. It's a little weird really - like preparing for your own funeral. So many kind words spoken. So many tears of good-bye. I'm thankful for this opportunity to say important things and to hear some as well.
This life is so short - these days so fragile.
"For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain." These words were spoken by the Apostle Paul. We too live in this tension of longing to fulfill every moment of this earthly life that God has planned for us, yet also longing to see Jesus face.
Until that day sweet friends. Live. Live every moment to the fullest. Don't waste one of these fragile days.
Friday, May 25, 2012
Saturday, May 19, 2012
A Successful Saturday
Finally a Saturday at home all day. What am I talking about? Finally a DAY at home all day with no where to go and no people to meet and no expectations except my own.
I drank coffee. I chatted with my son. I cleaned toilets. I checked Facebook and email. I attacked those darn, dead crocus leaves. (Why, oh why do we have so many? Oh - that's right - because I love them in March) I got one bed cleaned out and looked at the other, but listened to my aching back and went in the house. I drank about a quart of water. I checked email and Facebook. I threw in a load of laundry. I drank some more coffee. I ate an apple. I cooked the meat for spaghetti. I checked Facebook - again. I read the newspaper and turned the pages on my new Country Living magazine. (Does anyone actually read those?) I sat down and finally (after nearly 6 weeks) downloaded the rest of the books for the class I am supposed to finish in a mere 6 weeks. Only 800 pages left to read; a one page synopsis for each book (8 or 9 of them) an 8 page overview of the writer's conference I attended at the end of March, 3 query letters and 3, 2000 word articles to write. Yes. I can do this. I read one short book and about a 3rd of another. And now I feel inspired to write. What am I writing? This poorly written piece of nonsense that no one will ever read that's what. But I'm writing again and I think that's what matters.
My back and shoulders are killing me, but I'm going to write a paragraph on one of those assignments. Then I'm going to sit in the hot tub with my husband and get into bed all warm and relaxed and have a good night's sleep.
That's what I call a successful Saturday.
I drank coffee. I chatted with my son. I cleaned toilets. I checked Facebook and email. I attacked those darn, dead crocus leaves. (Why, oh why do we have so many? Oh - that's right - because I love them in March) I got one bed cleaned out and looked at the other, but listened to my aching back and went in the house. I drank about a quart of water. I checked email and Facebook. I threw in a load of laundry. I drank some more coffee. I ate an apple. I cooked the meat for spaghetti. I checked Facebook - again. I read the newspaper and turned the pages on my new Country Living magazine. (Does anyone actually read those?) I sat down and finally (after nearly 6 weeks) downloaded the rest of the books for the class I am supposed to finish in a mere 6 weeks. Only 800 pages left to read; a one page synopsis for each book (8 or 9 of them) an 8 page overview of the writer's conference I attended at the end of March, 3 query letters and 3, 2000 word articles to write. Yes. I can do this. I read one short book and about a 3rd of another. And now I feel inspired to write. What am I writing? This poorly written piece of nonsense that no one will ever read that's what. But I'm writing again and I think that's what matters.
My back and shoulders are killing me, but I'm going to write a paragraph on one of those assignments. Then I'm going to sit in the hot tub with my husband and get into bed all warm and relaxed and have a good night's sleep.
That's what I call a successful Saturday.
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
Today I was a goat
The last conversation I had with Amy was last Tuesday. She called because she needed help - lots of help. Her rent was past due and going up $50 every day she didn't pay it. Her kids needed diapers. She was out of contact lens solution. She had a court date the following week and couldn't pay her attorney. She was at her wits end. She claimed to have checked with every agency in town. I have no doubt that she did, but she had already exhausted all her options. She was hoping to get in touch with her Dad who had just returned from Afghanistan and could maybe help her with the attorney's fees. She was worried about losing custody of her boys - four and two. My heart broke for her.
I first met Amy two years ago when she came to me for some pastoral counseling. She had left her husband because of domestic abuse. She took her boys and drove to Utah to stay with family for a couple of weeks. When she returned, she was in trouble with the law for running with the kids. Unfortunately, she had never reported the abuse, so the court system did not believe her. She had no job and very little money. She moved in with a lady from our church who ended up kicking her out after a few weeks.
We helped her financially and she was finally able to get into a low-income apartment but her financial struggles did not end. She had back problems from working at Walmart, but was unable to get on SSI. He husband fought her over child support. Her car broke down repeatedly. She just could not get ahead. And Amy had a heart as big as all outdoors. When she did have a little, she shared it or gave it away.
She brought her kids to church as often as she could. The boys loved "Jesus' house." She loved Jesus too and wanted her boys to grow up loving Jesus more than anything. Whether we were able to help her or not, she was always kind and grateful for what we had done. At the end of every conversation, she always said, "I love you Pastor Vicki."
Those were her words to me last Tuesday afternoon when I told her we could not help her this time. After discussing her situation with our benevolence pastor and administrator and checking to see when we had helped her last, it was decided that we would not give her financial assistance this time. I felt like we should have done something - even if it was just a grocery card. But I called her and told her we could not help. She thanked me for all the help we had given her in the past and told me she loved me. Those were the last words I will ever hear her say. Amy died this morning of an apparent overdose.
My heart is broken and my mind is full of regret. See, I felt like our decision not to help at all lacked compassion. I thought we should have done something. But I did not fight for Amy. The worst of it is, I felt the Holy Spirit say, You could buy her some diapers and contact solution. I thought, Yes, I could. But then I didn't. I meant to, but I didn't. I put her and her problems out of my mind. In the end, it may or may not have helped. But I did not do what little I could. Now two little boys do not have a Mama and I will always wonder if a little kindness would have helped her somehow. The "church" didn't help her, but I could have.
I am grateful for the voice of the Holy Spirit in the middle of this tragedy. I know that I am forgiven, but I never want to forget this moment.
37 “Then these righteous ones will reply, ‘Lord, when did we ever see you hungry and feed you? Or thirsty and give you something to drink? 38 Or a stranger and show you hospitality? Or naked and give you clothing? 39 When did we ever see you sick or in prison and visit you?’
40 “And the King will say, ‘I tell you the truth, when you did it to one of the least of these my brothers and sisters, you were doing it to me!’
41 “Then the King will turn to those on the left and say, ‘Away with you, you cursed ones, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his demons.
42 For I was hungry, and you didn’t feed me. I was thirsty, and you didn’t give me a drink. 43 I was a stranger, and you didn’t invite me into your home. I was naked, and you didn’t give me clothing. I was sick and in prison, and you didn’t visit me.’
44 “Then they will reply, ‘Lord, when did we ever see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and not help you?’
45 “And he will answer, ‘I tell you the truth, when you refused to help the least of these my brothers and sisters, you were refusing to help me.’
46 “And they will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous will go into eternal life.”
I first met Amy two years ago when she came to me for some pastoral counseling. She had left her husband because of domestic abuse. She took her boys and drove to Utah to stay with family for a couple of weeks. When she returned, she was in trouble with the law for running with the kids. Unfortunately, she had never reported the abuse, so the court system did not believe her. She had no job and very little money. She moved in with a lady from our church who ended up kicking her out after a few weeks.
We helped her financially and she was finally able to get into a low-income apartment but her financial struggles did not end. She had back problems from working at Walmart, but was unable to get on SSI. He husband fought her over child support. Her car broke down repeatedly. She just could not get ahead. And Amy had a heart as big as all outdoors. When she did have a little, she shared it or gave it away.
She brought her kids to church as often as she could. The boys loved "Jesus' house." She loved Jesus too and wanted her boys to grow up loving Jesus more than anything. Whether we were able to help her or not, she was always kind and grateful for what we had done. At the end of every conversation, she always said, "I love you Pastor Vicki."
Those were her words to me last Tuesday afternoon when I told her we could not help her this time. After discussing her situation with our benevolence pastor and administrator and checking to see when we had helped her last, it was decided that we would not give her financial assistance this time. I felt like we should have done something - even if it was just a grocery card. But I called her and told her we could not help. She thanked me for all the help we had given her in the past and told me she loved me. Those were the last words I will ever hear her say. Amy died this morning of an apparent overdose.
My heart is broken and my mind is full of regret. See, I felt like our decision not to help at all lacked compassion. I thought we should have done something. But I did not fight for Amy. The worst of it is, I felt the Holy Spirit say, You could buy her some diapers and contact solution. I thought, Yes, I could. But then I didn't. I meant to, but I didn't. I put her and her problems out of my mind. In the end, it may or may not have helped. But I did not do what little I could. Now two little boys do not have a Mama and I will always wonder if a little kindness would have helped her somehow. The "church" didn't help her, but I could have.
I am grateful for the voice of the Holy Spirit in the middle of this tragedy. I know that I am forgiven, but I never want to forget this moment.
The Final Judgment
Matthew 25:31-46
31 “But when the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, then he will sit upon his glorious throne. 32 All the nations will be gathered in his presence, and he will separate the people as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. 33 He will place the sheep at his right hand and the goats at his left.
34 “Then
the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by
my Father, inherit the Kingdom prepared for you from the creation of the
world. 35 For I was hungry, and you fed me. I was thirsty, and you gave me a drink. I was a stranger, and you invited me into your home. 36 I was naked, and you gave me clothing. I was sick, and you cared for me. I was in prison, and you visited me.’37 “Then these righteous ones will reply, ‘Lord, when did we ever see you hungry and feed you? Or thirsty and give you something to drink? 38 Or a stranger and show you hospitality? Or naked and give you clothing? 39 When did we ever see you sick or in prison and visit you?’
40 “And the King will say, ‘I tell you the truth, when you did it to one of the least of these my brothers and sisters, you were doing it to me!’
41 “Then the King will turn to those on the left and say, ‘Away with you, you cursed ones, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his demons.
42 For I was hungry, and you didn’t feed me. I was thirsty, and you didn’t give me a drink. 43 I was a stranger, and you didn’t invite me into your home. I was naked, and you didn’t give me clothing. I was sick and in prison, and you didn’t visit me.’
44 “Then they will reply, ‘Lord, when did we ever see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and not help you?’
45 “And he will answer, ‘I tell you the truth, when you refused to help the least of these my brothers and sisters, you were refusing to help me.’
46 “And they will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous will go into eternal life.”
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)