Bittersweet Season

 “Though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for You are with me." ~ Psalm 23:4

One of Gia’s favorite childhood memories was storytime with her Mama, Chantel. Chilly winter nights brought plenty of reasons to draw them closer to each other. They’d huddle late at night on the couch before a blazing fireplace. She’d lean against her mother’s shoulder watching the lines on her face disappear when she used different voices to mimic the characters in the book.

Stories came to life as her Mama laughed and pretended to cry. Sometimes Chantel looked almost childlike herself in those moments. When she read Cinderella, Gia could feel the transition from rags to riches because Chantel used her imagination to feel it, too.

It could’ve been her Mama’s time to relax after cooking, disciplining, or paying the bills, but instead, Chantel would smile when Gia slipped out of bed and tiptoed into the living room after everyone else fell asleep. It was their special time together to read and talk about books.

After Gia became a busy parent with her own children, she understood her mother’s sacrifices for those late-night story sessions.

When Chantel was first diagnosed with a rapidly advancing form of dementia, Gia knew she’d need support. The once-proud entrepreneur struggled to manage simple tasks. Making a sandwich, answering the phone, and even short walks gave her difficulty; leaving her alone at home became dangerous.

Gia left her full-time nursing job and became her Mama’s caregiver. Chantel would stay with Gia’s family until she needed specialized memory care. They’d cherish those challenging few months together, making the most of the time she had left.

Pieces of Chantel visibly slipped away each day. Their roles had reversed. What Chantel had done for Gia growing up, Gia was now doing for her Mama. And, although her life wasn’t turning out the way she thought it would, Gia refused to allow Chantel’s twilight years to be characterized solely by the suffering that comes with the deadly brain disease.

The constant cycle of care and monitoring of Chantel was emotionally exhausting. But faith in a trustworthy God helped dissolve her fear and personal insecurities. Gia was providing the best care she possibly could – in comfort, with dignity: well-loved, and fully supported.

Chantel’s bedroom was filled with a nice collection of her favorite books. Holding her favorite classic book brought peace and familiarity. Tonight, she was holding her well-worn Bible. Gia began reading Psalm 23, again. She had read the passage so many times she knew it by heart.

Chantel relaxed back in her chair, went very quiet, and at the end simply muttered, “Read it again." Somehow, Gia needed it as much as her Mama did.

“Change my heart, O God, and give me compassion to love others even when they are difficult to love and unable to show appreciation. Please rid me of any negativism, and help me know that this is Your purpose for my life right now.” ~ Gia

The "Michael" Spiritual

 “Rushing water is loud; ocean waves are powerful, but the Lord is much greater.” ~ Psalm 93:4

Among the most memorable songs in American folk music is "Michael Row the Boat Ashore," a traditional African-American spiritual. It’s sung around campfires and in churches all across the country because it is easy to learn and the melody is soft and sweet.

Spirituals like this originated during the slave era and were sung to help pass the long, hot work days. No one person was often credited with writing the words or the music because both came spontaneously and were passed down through generations. Because of this, there are many versions in circulation.

Charles Ware, a Harvard-educated abolitionist who came to supervise plantations on St. Helena Island in 1862, wrote down the lyrics of the song as he heard freedmen sing it. The song was sung by former slaves whose owners had abandoned the island before the Union Navy would arrive to enforce a blockade.

While we do have references to pinpoint the song’s publishing date (though undoubtedly much older), its precise remains unclear.

It’s believed to have been inspired by the slaves trying to escape violent weather that battered the Islands off Georgia. Many died as a result because the only way off was by small row boat. The tempo was deliberately slow to keep pace with the oars when the load was heavy or they were rowing against the tide (two measures to each stroke).

The death they likely faced probably refers to the River Jordan, where Jesus was baptized and can be viewed as a metaphor for deliverance and salvation, but also as the boundary of the Promised Land and the transition to Heaven.  "Michael" in the song is probably the Archangel Michael. In the Roman Catholic interpretation, Michael helps ferry the souls of the dead to heaven.

But the Jordan River, over which the Israelites crossed into the Promised Land, symbolized not only postmortem salvation. For those who first sang “Michael, Row the Boat Ashore,” it also signified liberation from slavery and, perhaps, the slaveholding South.

Nearly a hundred years later, The Highwaymen had an international hit with their version. It was continually cast into the limelight during the 60s and recorded by many folk artists including Pete Seeger and Peter Paul & Mary.

In modern times, the song is about the idea of escaping from an inescapable and difficult situation, such as the world of sin, and seeking help, comfort, and a better life. The other verses act as reassurances that although the world can seem to be chaotic and overwhelming, God’s great power is greater than natural, medical, financial, or political power. His authority is even greater than death.

Lord, “You are great and most worthy of praise; greatness no one can fathom. Each generation commends Your works to another; they tell of Your mighty acts and the glorious splendor of Your majesty. They celebrate your abundant goodness and joyfully sing of your righteousness.” (Psalm 145:3-7)

On Fallow Ground

 “Sow goodness, reap the fruit of unfailing love, and break up your fallow ground. ~ Hosea 10:12

Fields of alfalfa and other feed cattle crops rolled past as Brad drove through the desert valley where his family had farmed with water from the Colorado River for over three generations. He got out of his truck and stepped onto a brown, parched ground where shriveled remnants of last year’s harvest crunched under his boots.

The water for irrigation has been temporarily shut off to help slow the unrelenting decline in the largest reservoir in the country. Farmers are now paid to leave portions of their land dry and fallow. Water saved will help replenish Lake Mead which has fallen to its lowest levels since it was filled in the 1930s after completion of the Hoover Dam.

Many people think that “fallow” means that a field is doing nothing. Although no vegetables grow in a fallow field, it’s not on vacation. Perhaps you could say it's on a working vacation.

There’s value in leaving land rest when no crops are planted for one, or several, vegetative cycles. When the earth is left completely dormant it’s allowed to recover, store more organic matter, retain moisture, and disrupt pathogenic lifecycles by eliminating their hosts.

The idea of allowing land to lay fallow is not a new idea; the Hebrew Bible demands it. In Leviticus 25, God told Moses to instruct the Israelites that the land itself must observe a year of rest in the seventh year of production.

Brad imagined the benefits of fallowing for himself. Call it rest, refueling, or restoration – it’s a time when we’re not slaves to our daily grind and we clearly see the poetry in our souls.

It allows us to move away from the things that deaden us, like anger, revenge, apathy, and narcissism. 

He paused, welcoming the sun’s golden beams warming the day. Eyes closed, he drew in a lung full of mountain valley air and absorbed the familiarity of God’s intimacy.

Things happen when we slow down; when we stop doing anything and just breathe. Fallow time, it seems, is what gives us the space to soak in the music, savor the wine, relish time with great friends, play with grandchildren, snuggle a puppy, and all those other things that bring him to life. “Good times from God-time!”

Integrating spirituality into one's daily life requires patience, quiet, and waiting. None of these are typical characteristics of our American culture. We’re an instant, often noisy, results-oriented lot.

Just as fields need to lie fallow, so does all creation - including us. In a world rife with addiction to busyness, it’s imperative that we rediscover the lost art of re-creative rest. Only then can we effectively serve and yield fruit for God’s Kingdom.

Father, help us slow down, fix our eyes on You, and remember where our true peace and strength are found. Give me a listening heart and searching eyes, so that I may see You clearly in my over-active world. Amen

Michelle, Ma Belle

 “We plan our path but the Lord guides our steps." ~ Proverbs 16:9

When Charles and Serena married, they’d already planned their future. He would finish his engineering degrees in two years, then she would get pregnant. They would name their baby Michael or Michelle. 

Ten years passed and no child came. It was a decade of roller-coaster rides through a false pregnancy, infertility tests, and enviously watching friends and siblings having children. Despite feeling impatient and frustrated, they continued hoping and praying that God would bless them with the child they so desperately wanted.

They’d considered adoption, but worried about finances, long waits, and family acceptance.  After prayerful discernment, the couple attended a class for prospective adoptee parents. Every Monday evening for 10 weeks they took parenting classes. At home, they prepared placed bottles of baby lotion and powder beside bibs and colorful stuffed animals.

Within just a few weeks, they received a call to meet with a five-month-pregnant birth mother. They drove 300 miles and met with the woman twice before she lost contact with the agency altogether. It nearly broke their hearts.

Their next opportunity came 4 months later. They flew to New Orleans and met the birth parents in the hospital the night before mom’s C-section. They were instantly enchanted, cuddling and bonding with the newborn, anxious to return home and begin their new life as a family.

Their spirits shattered again when the birth father declined to sign away custody. Their “first baby” had to be given back.

Despite the unusual challenges of their adoption processes, Serena and Charles managed to stay positive and committed to their adoption journey. That’s not to say they didn’t find it difficult at times but they leaned on each and refused to downgrade their expectations. It would happen - just perhaps not on their own timeline.

Seven months later the caseworker called and told them about an eight-month-old baby girl. She invited them to read her file. “If you like what you read, you’[ meet her foster parents next week,” she said enthusiastically.

Within a week they said “YES!!!”and three days of visitation began. “Her name is Arija Michelle,” her foster mom explained. “But my kids struggled saying Arija so we’ve always called her Michelle.”

After over 11 futile years, it became so very clear why they’d never had success ... that precious little girl with Down’s Syndrome was undoubtedly meant to be their daughter. “She just “fit!” If their love for her had a color … it was the whole rainbow.

Serena looked into her precious daughter’s eyes. The sweet child smiled and reached out her arms. Serena thought her heart would burst with joy. Their Michelle had arrived. After so many years God had indeed sent the baby they wanted.

Heavenly Father, thank you for Michelle, whom You have lovingly and wonderfully created. We submit all our personal expectations and aspirations for her at Your feet and ask for the wisdom to raise her in Your image, and not our own. Amen

Life Sparklers

"I am the light of the world. Whoever follows Me will never walk in darkness.” ~ John 8:12

The firework that brought me the most childhood joy was the familiar, yet brilliant sparkler. Twirling them around looked like a continuous circuit of light painted in the air. Its afterimage hovered in space like some magical kaleidoscope of blinking lights.

I loved watching the bright starbursts coming from each rod, exploding like mini meteors. They were fleeting glimpses that left a lasting impression, like seeing a shooting star in the evening sky when least expected.

This lyric from our “National Anthem” reminds me of why we launch fireworks each July 4^th: “And the rocket’s red glare, the bombs bursting in air, gave proof through the night that our flag was still there.”

More than two centuries ago, Francis Scott Key witnessed a barrage of British rockets exploding over Baltimore Harbor during the battle for Fort McHenry. Despite a night of brutal shelling, Old Glory stood tall.

The British defeat was a turning point in the War of 1812.

I’ve always found those words moving. For even in a moment of fierce battle, any source of light offers us “proof” of what’s enduring and inspiring in life. This year, while we celebrate America’s independence, let’s also recognize those "sparklers" in our lives worthy of illuminating.

If we’re lucky, we have true friends in our lives; connected souls weaved together when our exposed cerebral wires form the right kind of sparks. They help us grow, laugh and think more.

Marriage, or life partnership, is surely the anchor of a meaningful life when grounded in shared values, support, and enduring love so strong that each would willingly sacrifice for the other.

Children or grandchildren carry sparks of us inside them, from the way their eyes twinkle when they laugh to the way they treat others. From children’s eyes come the world’s light, pure joy told in grins and giggles.

The work we do every day - whether or not we go to an office or even get paid to do it - is love made visible - a symbol of our life and values. Work organizes our life around a routine, and it’s a consistent way that we can contribute to our community and the world.

Finally, it’s my faith in our Father that buoys my existence. Our Creator God is the “light of the world.” Love, truth, peace, forgiveness, and happiness cannot co-exist with evil, selfishness, fear, and hatred. So, I choose Him.

Consider ways to celebrate the blessings in your life this July 4^th. Wave sparklers in the yard with friends; toast your marriage; enjoy the delight in children’s eyes, share the shared purpose of a work day well spent. And thank God, the source from whom our blessings of liberty, prosperity, and security flow.

Thank You, Father, for our country’s independence and for the people of faith who helped lay its constitutional framework. You are our deliverer, the God of our strength. We place our trust in You alone. Amen