Shelter

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Words are powerful.  Even more so the images that accompany them.  Consider the word shelter.  For many of us, this word reminds us of safety and home.  But what if we add just one word…emergency.  Emergency Shelter brings much different imagery. One final word moves us even further from protective pictures of safety and home… children’s.

Before my first visit to an Emergency Children’s Shelter, my imagination created snapshots in preparation for the experience-a clean building, professional staff, play areas, a visiting room.  In my mind the scene played out-a greeting from a smiling worker, thanking me for coming.  An onsite visit in a comfortable, nicely decorated area.  After all, this facility was providing care for children who had experienced trauma.

“Reality is the state of things as they actually appear, rather than as they may appear or might be imagined.”

When map quest directed me to turn down a gravel road blocked by an iron gate, my previous notions of what the day would bring began to fade.  A quick phone call put me back on track, giving two guiding landmarks.  Passing the second landmark, I noticed an older, run-down, unassuming house.  This couldn’t be right, I kept driving…dead end.  Cautiously turning around, I knew in my heart that old house was the place.  I noticed “Private Property” and “Video Surveillance” postings in the yard as I parked.  In crept feelings of nervousness and uncertainty.

Taking a deep breath, I walked to the door, spoke to the cat on the porch, and rang the bell. A calm, quiet proprietor answered. The precious young person I was visiting nervously stood at the back of the house.  My visions of a visit on the premises vanished as I spotted a backpack on the table.  My young friend was ready to go!  Now there were completely different reasons to be nervous.  Where would we go?  What would we do?  Concerns quickly faded with smiles, hugs, and laughter.

My earlier thoughts of shelter as concrete began to fade. Perhaps the word shelter should instead bring to mind promises of our Father and memories of people He places in our path.  Although these new, less tangible images give me courage for future visits, the words emergency and children’s remain.  Those words continue to hold much sadness and many unanswered questions.  Tempering them with the word shelter however, allows tiny bits of light to break through the clouds.

“You have been a refuge for the poor, a refuge for the needy in their distress, a shelter from the storm and a shade from the heat…” 

Isaiah 25:4

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My Father-n-law

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Today we celebrated Father’s Day.  I prepared the requested chicken enchiladas and yellow cake with chocolate frosting for lunch.  Our family, including my mother-n-law, spent the afternoon together, ending our day seeing The Incredibles ii.  Such a nice day!  But someone was missing, my father-n-law.  He passed away February 2, 2016 after a hard fought battle with cancer.  Many moments today I sensed we were all thinking the same thing-we miss Dad, Papa, Bob.  None of us said anything, but his memory was present.

We do talk about him often. How he liked to razz the grandchildren about their love interests.  My mother-n-law once called him the nosiest man alive! How he would do everything in his power to make sure we all had what we needed and wanted.  He was so very generous.  We  knew he loved us, no doubts!  Though our celebrations may now feel incomplete, they must continue.  They must be sprinkled with precious memories of this one who teased us, quizzed us, provided for us, and loved us so well.

 

A Father’s Day Story

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How do you measure success?  Money, material possessions, travel, adventure?  Facing constant pressure to seek the “next best” makes success difficult to define.  A recent conversation with my dad led my thoughts to this subject.  As he gathered souvenirs to share with children at their church’s VBS, I began questioning him about his travels and compiling a list of his mission trips.  The word “success” permeated my thoughts.

My dad is a carpenter, strong and gentle, a man of few words.  A hard worker who spent much of his life building homes.  I believe however, his work in volunteer missions truly defines his success.  My dad ventured nineteen times to Brazil, five times to Mexico, twice to Guatemala, and once to England.  These trips often involved church construction in poor, remote locations.  He also volunteered in twelve U.S. states on multiple occasions, building, remodeling and repairing churches, as well as working in tornado and hurricane damaged areas.

Mom often accompanied dad on these trips.  Both now in their seventies, they once again prepare to travel, this time to South Dakota.  Most people would say, “You’ve done enough, rest.” Nevertheless, they continue to be faithful, embracing opportunities to serve others.  In the words of my dad, “Not too bad for a bashful old country boy.”  Now that is what I would call a success story!

Happy Father’s Day dad!  I love you!dad

 

 

Separation

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I wrote the following poem based on my connection with a former student.  Recent news stories concerning the separation of children from their parents brought it to mind.

 

Deserved vs. Received

 

I deserved contempt, judgement, death.

I received forgiveness, grace, life.

I deserved exclusion, distance, rejection.

I received community, acceptance, adoption.

This is Love.

 

This child deserved love, safety, a community.

She received hurt, fear, isolation.

This child deserved affection, a home, a family.

She received neglect, loneliness, strangers.

This is Sin.

 

“Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers a multitude of sins.”  I Peter 4:8

 

Beginnings

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I love music.  Music has been a constant in my life since I was a little girl.  Sometimes it seems the only time my brain is truly at rest, is when I’m behind the piano.  There are many thoughts constantly swirling through my mind, and it is often difficult to for me to make sense of them.  I’ve found that writing them down often helps, and I’ve decided maybe it’s time to share some of those writings.  I will begin on a rather personal note…

All Things Bright and Beautiful…

all things grey and gloomy

There is much discussion these days concerning depression.  It is a very important topic. Speaking from personal experience, it is one that I need to talk about more often.  It’s difficult to admit feelings of depression.  They come in so many forms-sometimes sadness, sometimes anger, sometimes crying-almost always without explanation. That’s not to say that specific events won’t trigger depression, however there is often no clear answer.  The reason-depression is an illness, an imbalance-not an emotion or emotional response, and certainly not a lack of faith.

My personal experiences with depression began over 15 years ago.  I was a young wife and mom of three young children. We lived in a quaint Oklahoma town, had amazing friends, a “bright and beautiful” time. Yet somehow I found myself struggling to control my emotions.  Feelings of frustration and anger, almost “outside of myself” experiences left me exhausted and confused.  I clearly remember on several occasions thinking, “Why am I reacting this way?  Why can’t I control this?”  It was staggering, that feeling of not being in control.

Thankfully, my husband is one who viewed this as a medical issue that needed to be addressed.  So I discussed my feelings with my doctor and began taking anti-depressants. Modifications have been made over the years, but thankfully medication continues to have a positive effect on my mental well-being and helps me cope with everyday life. The solution may not be perfect, but it is one I accept as necessary.

That being said…the depression is still there.  Most days are good.  But then a season of the “grey and gloomy” will come.  Sometimes it will make me angry, angry that I have to take medicine, angry that I can’t just snap out of it!  That’s when my husband gently reminds me if I had heart disease, I would seek treatment.  If I was diabetic, I wouldn’t hesitate to take medications.  And the list goes on and on.

As for my faith in Christ, I do not believe it is a lack of faith which causes my struggle with depression. On the contrary, my faith reminds me there is always hope. Hope that travels with me, right alongside the struggle.

“Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for he who promised is faithful.”

Hebrews 10:23 NIV