Changing Perspective, Longing for More

 I drank coffee with deep peace this morning - even a touch of joy. It could have been due to time with grand kids yesterday afternoon. Or dinner with my oldest last night during which he espoused the intrigue of a certain video game. His ten year old self emerged through the framework of his maturing soul. And I loved every moment.

It could also be due to something I heard Beth Moore say in a video Monday night. I don't have the direct quote but she challenged  her listeners to recognize and embrace the inner longing that is ours as followers of Christ.

This is not our home. Our DNA holds a Jesus imprint that makes us long for more. But if we're not careful, that longing dulls and becomes easy to ignore.

I read this verse just today, "To those who by persistence in doing good seek glory, honor, and immortality, he will give eternal life." (Romans 2: 7) And I have to admit, I've never thought much about seeking immortality. That's what super heroes do in the movies.

But it goes back to that longing. Are we living for today for our comfort, our fiftieth wedding anniversary, our well being, temporal blessings? Or are we choosing Him, living this life as if immortality is the ultimate something to look forward to?

I can honestly say that some days I get it and others I just long for circumstantial comfort.

I received my first study Bible from my mom's parents when I was in high school. The books tiny print is highlighted throughout. And I can open its pages and flash back to times and places where Jason and I read The Word together and were changed by the promises held within.

But after he died, the very promises that once brought life, stirred confusion. The hope that carried us through became more than I could absorb in the midst of grief. I didn't want to get a new Bible due to the rich meaning hidden in the pages, but I struggled to read it with consistency.

I now understand the conundrum. Beth made it clear. God's Word stirs longing. And sometimes that longing conflicts with our current circumstances. It almost taunts us. Joy in sorrow? Hope in despair? Life in grief?

The contradiction remains only when we allow our longing to limit us to situational resolution. Meaning we want the story to make sense today. In this moment. In the pain and disappointment we feel right now.

While God is the master of meeting us in our deepest hour of need, sometimes His word is just there to remind us of the hope yet to come. The story that has yet to be acted out. The master plan that is still in operation. The immortality that is ours when we seek life with Him here, with an understanding of how much more is coming in the ultimate tomorrow.

So open His word. Change your perspective. Think sideways for a moment, basking in the wonder. There's a lot more to come.

photo credit: Simon Cocks via photopin cc

8

Faith, Hope,and Love for When the Coffee Spills

A bottle of medicine sat on the edge my kitchen table as I sipped morning coffee. When I reached for the supplement, however, my elbow knocked over my over sized mug.

An entire Cup of Joe spilled onto my lap.

Bathed in rich java, I whispered thanks that it wasn't overly hot. As Don entered the room, though, he commented, "Boy that's a really bad start to your day!"

Kitchen towels proved too small to wipe up the mess. So he searched for more while I took off saturated PJ's. Laundry followed soon after Don made me a fresh pot to savor.

While I had a great time away with my boys last week, vacation recovery requires patience.  Some days I accept the slow pace while others I struggle with the limitations. Spilled coffee reminded me I wasn't better yet.

And just yesterday we read a passenger plane was mistakenly shot down by pro-Russian Ukraine forces. Israeli ground troops invaded the Gaza Strip. A disgruntled brother-in-law shot five members of a family, leaving a teenage girl to grieve alone.

 It's crazy out there. Really crazy.

So let's focus people. We need to stay centered. We need to remember that just as the sun brightens our world every day, God's love is pouring out to those who step from the shade. That love is received by faith and stirs up hope.

As I rest, pray, and wonder what lies ahead in my body and our world,  I imagine that sun beaming down on me; His power being made perfect in my weakness. The picture gives me strength and helps me get back up when the coffee spills.

Because the coffee will spill. But the Son will shine bright.

 Rest in His goodness. Relish His love. He is the Unclouded Day.

4

A Deluge at Waterrock Knob

The sounds of the rushing Tuckasekegee River greeted me when I stepped outside with coffee this morning. Can you tell I'm not at home!

I've been trying to schedule  a vacation with my boys for a few years. Courtney was added to the list last December when she said, "I do." So when everyone ended up in the Atlanta area this summer, we started scheming about where we could go.

After tossing a few ideas around, a friend of mine (from high school!) offered us his home in the mountains while his family is away on vacation. Humbled and excited, I said, "We'll take it!"

His home rests up on a hill only a short hike from the river, about ten minutes from Dillsboro, NC. This area of the country holds some of my dearest life memories. So coming back with grown boys instead of little boys, stirs deep emotion.

While there's much more to the story, I'll just tell you I was here with Jason on my birthday, only three weeks before he died. My mom came up the next day with the boys and we went to Santa's Land and rode the Great Smokey Mountain Railroad. 

But on my birthday, Jason and I drove to one of the highest points on the Blue Ridge Parkway. The scenic overlook held special memories and I'd wanted to share the view with him for over a year and a half. When a couple we hardly knew called the month before and offered their cabin for a week that October, we agreed, not knowing he'd be gone so soon after.

But God did.

And God wrote our story in such a way that we ate lunch together - with an amazing view - at the newly renovated high point that's still accessible today. Jason was wheelchair bound and needed help with his food. But being there together settled something in me.

After a long drive Tuesday night, the boys and Courtney and I decided to take it easy Wednesday. But after the World Cup game, we loaded my van and drove to Waterrock Knob. Nathan put the timer on his new camera and took our photo.

 

If I was at home, I'd scan old photos from the other two times the boys and I have stood with our backs to his view. They don't remember. It's been a number of years.  But we've climbed this path before, and I just couldn't let them go without me.

 

 These storm clouds made for a great photo but didn't scare us away.

  

I remembered my grey walker - the one I don't like - was in the van. Since it helped me on the beach, I threw it in before we left... just in case. Nathan grabbed it from the van for me and I started climbing the steep incline.

  

My heart pounded. My legs tired. But I just kept taking one small step at a time. And before too long, I'd climbed 1/4 mile up the steepest path I'd dared traverse in almost a decade. 

 

 And just as I found my "non tired" smile for the photo op with Courtney, she said, "Uh-oh... did you feel that?"

Thinking little of it, I replied, "No... feel what?"

"The rain drops..."

About that time, the heaven's parted, a Noah type flood began, and we found ourselves stuck a quarter mile up with me and my walker and a suddenly slippery slope.

It was amazing!

Truly amazing.

Fairly certain a tree wouldn't provide enough shelter at this point, Nathan faced me, braced the walker, and descended backwards at my slow pace, assuring I wouldn't fall. Courtney and Sam provided comic relief while the deluge slowly soaked every piece of clothing on our bodies.

I laughed the whole way down.

We didn't see a pretty sunset or even glimpse colorful leaves. And I rode home with less clothing on than planned. But my heart soared. I don't know what else life has to bring. We've still a journey ahead. But being there with my grown young men (and Courtney!!) who helped their mom up the mountain, I felt the deepest kind of assurance that God is with us, guiding us, and taking care of us.

So I'll keep climbing... and try zip-lining tomorrow.

photo credit: shaggyhill via photopin cc

3

A Different Kind of Suffering: Honoring Staff Sargent James Fletcher

I sipped iced coffee at Starbucks Monday while listening to a dear friend share her testimony. It's always an honor to hear how God has transformed a heart.

Once a month I search for a story to write for the Hometown Advantage Newspaper in Douglas County. And last month I had the honor to learn about a war hero: Staff Sargent James Fletcher who served in the army during WW II.

As we celebrate Independence Day, it seems apropos to share his story - especially the part about the wild elephants...

(This article first appeared in the July 2014 edition of the Hometown Advantage Newspaper)

My first husband died of a brain tumor when I was twenty-seven. My youngest son and I battle a genetic, degenerative, neuromuscular disease. Simply put… life isn’t easy.

But I’m beginning to grasp that I suffer on a cloud—that my pain has been buoyed by family, faith, and the many things that we as Americans take for granted.

A recent conversation with Alicia Schillinger, whose father served in World War II, confirmed my suspicions. While I face physical challenges every day, the men and women who have served our country daily rise above combat memories, injuries, and experience few can fathom. Alicia’s aging father knows this well.

“I always knew dad was in the war,” Alicia shared. “But I was a teenager before I grasped how much he suffered. I just didn’t really get it until he wrote his book.”

James Fletcher was inducted into the army in early 1941. He completed basic training and spent the better part of a year in maneuvers before volunteering for a secret mission. After specialized training, he set sail from San Francisco with 10,000 soldiers on the USS West Point—destination unknown.

He disembarked several weeks later in Bombay, India—in the spring of 1943—and joined a ranger outfit. Within months, he was fighting the Japanese deep in the jungles of Burma.  He wrote:

“The first time I was under fire, I was scared stiff. In my mind, I thought I could see the enemy coming at me in all directions… I know most of us had never prayed in our lives before going into combat. But I prayed that day and many of the other soldiers did the same. I have always felt that someone up there was watching out for me. My father used to write and tell me that he prayed for me every night before went to bed while I was overseas.” (Fletcher, James. Secret War of Burma. Atlanta: James Fletcher, 1997.)

Those prayers made a difference on numerous occasions.

At one point, fierce fighting left James and a few other soldiers stuck behind enemy lines with local “Kachins”.  Separated from their unit without radio contact, they were forced to go further into the jungle for safety. After cutting through undergrowth for three days straight, their group made camp by the Chindwin River and ran into a herd of wild elephants. A Kachin accidently shot one of the elephants, sending it running into the jungle. The locals expressed worry that the elephants might return after dark and destroy their camp, but the Americans dismissed their concern as superstition—at first. 

After dark, however, they heard elephants moving closer to their camp. They built big fires hoping to scare them off but eventually climbed large trees over the river with plans to swim to the other side if the trees were knocked down.

An eerie silence was shattered around 2 am when the behemoth animals charged. They stampeded the camp, tore bamboo lean-tos to shreds, and then vanished into the jungle, having left the trees alone.

For the next fifteen days, the soldiers cut through the jungle, eating only what they could find, while leeches, ticks, bloodsucking flies, and mosquitoes nibbled on their tired bodies. Their clothing was torn, dirty, and bloodstained. But they finally met up with a Chinese patrol on a main trail, knowing full well they would never have made it without the help of the locals.

During his two plus years of service in the jungle, he saw rats as big as cats; met real life head hunters with rotted teeth and weathered skin like “mummies out of a museum”; ate monkey and porcupine; entered villages with piles of skeletons; survived typhoid fever, malaria, severe burns, and a mustard gas explosion; and earned a Bronze Star Medal for his efforts.

When asked how it affected him after he returned home, he offered, “I was never the same. My color was off due to illness for several years and I was real nervous. When a plane flew over our house at night, I jumped out of bed and hit the floor—for almost ten years.”

A routine airdrop once included a package from his father. The package included a waterproof Bible designed to be carried in the shirt pocket over your heart. James carried that little Bible through the entire war. And faith, family, and love of country have remained the foundation of his life.

Yes, my life has been tough. But there’s a host of Veterans whose lives bear scars from a sacrifice much greater than my own. And today, I salute you. 

James Fletcher and his daughter, Alicia Schillinger with the article posted high on the brag wall.

If you want to learn more about Mr. Fletcher, check out his story recorded live a few years ago on Georgia Public Broadcasting:

James Fletcher's Interview on GPB

photo credit: Spiced Coffee via photopin cc

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