War of words

The escalating divisiveness and incivility among us is weakening our nation. A house divided against itself cannot stand. We could be seen as engaged in a civil war with words where no one truly wins.

We desperately need to learn (or get better at) diplomacy, civility and effective conflict resolution. Granted there are no easy answers to our complex issues, but all the name calling, personal attacks and incivility is just making things worse. The more engaged we are in that, the more divided we become and the less able we are to truly listen to one another

I'm sure there are others much smarter than me who could explain what has brought us to this point. Perhaps it’s partly to due to our culture of individualism versus community, or perceived threats of losing what's important to us, and/or a driven-ness to grab whatever we can for ourselves at the cost of what's good for the whole. And increasingly we see evidence of a lack of moral compass, an "anything goes" culture.

For some of us, our behavior is indicative of our personal unmet needs and unresolved issues. How well do we truly know ourselves and what is driving our unhappiness or anger or retaliatory behavior? What has contributed to our worldview and how open are we to seeing weaknesses or flaws in that worldview?

Jesus tells us (in Luke 12: 51) that division is inevitable. But he also preached in the Sermon on the Mount that "God blesses those who work for peace, for they will be called the children of God." (Matthew 5:9)

Maybe this Independence Day we can give more consideration to our own role in this mess and how we might reach across the dividing lines.

Photo from re-enactment of Battle of Good's Farm, The Civil War. Re-enacted at Hale Farm and Village, August 2017.  Heartbreaking to watch and imagine the great suffering.

Print your digital photos to preserve your memories!

When I look through my collection of favorite family photos, I think what a gift it is to be able to capture that one moment in time, now preserved for decades to come. This bit of photographic paper I can hold in my hand carries with it the power of memory, inspiration, and gratitude for the richness of life. A collection of photographs tells the stories of our lives, who we are, where we came from, what contributed to who we are now, what is important to us, where we are going.

Most of us have great photographs stored on our phones but few are printed, which limits their accessibility and preservation of memories. I say all this to advise you to make it a habit to regularly print at least a few of your favorite photos.  Otherwise, those precious memories will be lost forever.

Thankfully many of our ancestors went to great pains and expense to get formal portraits done on a seemingly limited budget. One of my prized photos is an exquisite portrait of my Grandfather Webb Hester as small child being held by his mother.

Beyond the formal portraits, the snapshots of daily life always bring back wonderful memories. My Dad did a good job of documenting our childhood and many of those photos still bring a smile to my face. Then as a young adult I became the unofficial family photographer and began capturing snapshots and portraits of all my family members.

Now that both of my parents have passed on, I’m so grateful for the photos I captured of them. One afternoon my parents were bragging about how they could still fit into clothes from many years past so Dad put on his Army jacket and Mom put on her wedding suit and that’s when I captured one of my favorite photos of them.

These photos were taken on film back when my nephews were little guys. It started out with them just sitting on the front steps at my Dad's house. In the frame before this, I got the idea to have them pose as the three monkeys - hear no, speak no, see no evil. It took a little trial and error but we eventually got it (sort of). 

This series always brings a big smile to my face...

Father's Day memories - 2014

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Just the other day I was talking with someone about my penchant for writing so she asked what I write. I told her about my grant writing and also mentioned my blog with much of its focus on family stories and history. She said she had wished she had journaled more, especially since she had done a lot of world travel for her work. She was interested enough to ask me for the web address for my blog. 

So that has more motivated to re-engage with my blog and regularly post. I think I will start out with posting some of the more memorable Facebook entries, especially the family memories I want to preserve.

Here's some explanation on the June 15, 2014 post:

Dad had an old recliner sitting just inside the garage bay. He enjoyed sitting there to rest from mowing or puttering in the yard. Other times he sat there just to be outside or to see who might pass by. When I went to visit I'd sit with him.  It generally wasn't long before someone would come by and pull in the drive. I'm convinced that is part of what extended his life to nearly 95 years. 

This is what I posted Father's Day 2014

Today with Dad, visiting with passers-by, Bill on his adapted tricycle that he pedals with his hands since he can't use his legs, Chris with his '48 International truck (just like Dad used to drive), and neighbor Loren on his Harley.  Chris offered to give Dad a ride in his truck but he declined.

Hope we can count on

If you were diagnosed with a serious illness that didn’t have a very good prognosis and then a promising new treatment came to light how would you feel?  Would you feel hopeful or skeptical or some of both?   Perhaps you would wonder if there is enough evidence that this new treatment is worthy of your trust and maybe even your life.

It is good to have hope for this life and to be proactive in our health. As wonderful as it would be to be rescued from suffering to live a long, full life, it is not the end all, be all. Sooner or later we will all face sorrow and deep struggle. What then?  The natural disasters and mass shootings of this past year have left many reeling in unspeakable loss and despair. How do we have hope, what sustains us when we go through those dark valleys?

When Isaiah foretold of Jesus the Messiah he broke forth in song with, “The people who walk in darkness will see a great light. For those who live in a land of deep darkness, a light will shine….”  (Isaiah 9:2). That song was handed down through the ages and by the time of Jesus’ appearance, there were some who discerned the fulfillment of this ancient promise and many others who totally missed it.

While there are numerous accounts of Jesus healing the sick and even raising the dead, his higher intent is to give a greater hope, a certain hope that sustains and upholds us in the difficult places. It’s a hope that lifts our vision past this life and into eternity.

Even in the midst of great suffering, the apostle Paul also encouraged his readers to consider this life’s troubles in light of eternity. “Though our bodies are dying, our spirits are being renewed every day. For our present troubles are small and won’t last very long. Yet they produce for us a glory that vastly outweighs them and will last forever! So we don’t look at the troubles we can see now; rather, we fix our gaze on things that cannot be seen.”  (2 Corinthians 4: 16-18 NLT).

When I come across reports of promising treatments for health conditions, I pass that on to those I think would have an interest in hopes that they will find relief from suffering. But my greater passion is to share the hope I have, a hope that sustains me through significant loss and challenge, especially when there is no other way but straight through the valley. That’s the place where I feel particularly grateful that Jesus not only came as a baby, He came as Emmanuel, which means “God with us.” He may or may not deliver me from difficulty, but one thing is certain, he walks with me through it. I come to appreciate His presence with me more than what he can give me. HE is the gift.

Whether you’re the optimist or the skeptic or somewhere in between, may I encourage you to discover for yourself the reality of His abiding presence.

Yes, there can be Joy to the World, even now, even in all our brokenness. “Joy to the World! The Lord is come. Let earth receive her king. Let every heart prepare Him room…” 

Protests and our growing divide

I wonder what all the protesting will accomplish for the good of our country.

I get that people are probably fearful that their voice will get lost in the cacophony of voices in the market and politics and social media,  fearful that their particular point of view will lose ground. I feel that too.  I get that these gatherings can help to garner solidarity for a cause.

But with each protest it feels like our divisions just seem to grow deeper and stronger.  It seems rooted more and more in the fight for our individual rights, the freedom to act in accordance with our moral convictions, the freedom of speech, and all the rest. That has its place, but how does that fit in with accomplishing what is good for the whole? 

There are aspects of protesting that can be demeaning or demoralizing to others that don’t see things the same way. I wonder, really, can protesting make a deep impact on some of the difficult challenges in our day such as generational poverty and all the disenfranchised people on the edges who are feeling lost and hopeless?   And the growing prevalence of chronic illness and dementia?

 The older I get, the less energy I have to devote to multiple causes or interests. All the media’s attention on the protests feels draining to me.  What seems wise for me at this point in my life is to be increasingly targeted in how I choose to expend my resources, time and energy.

For now, I will continue doing what I’ve been doing, working behind the scenes at The City Mission, an organization that restores hope and purpose and meaning to men, women and children who’ve been through circumstances that have left them defeated and hopeless and aimless.  In that way, I let my voice be heard, albeit in some small way.  My voice joins with many others as we work together to accomplish our mission.

It doesn’t get much media attention. But it makes a heap of difference to those whose lives are transformed.  They are finding relief from the years of suffering with untreated mental illness. For the first time in their lives they are learning to live in the reality that God has good plans for them to live with purpose and meaning.  They are experiencing an infusion of hope that God is redeeming their brokenness in ways beyond their comprehension.  They are finding strength and courage to speak life into their children and families. Indeed, there are many worthy causes but for me it doesn’t get much better than seeing the redemption and restoration of broken people.

Waiting without fear

It was a dreary and stormy afternoon.  We were online watching the trajectory of my brother Bob’s flight from Maine. The plane took a turn to the north to make its way around the heavy line of thunderstorms passing over northeast Ohio.  My brother Dan and I had been to the hospital to get the word from the trauma doctor that Dad would not be able to recover from the head injury sustained when he fell from a heart attack.  We retreated to my place to wait for the arrival of family members from far and wide.  

Then back at the hospital we waited more for everyone to complete the last leg of the journey and meet us there.  After the removal of life support we watched and waited as Dad’s breathing became shallower and finally the full surrender of life came.  Undoubtedly it had to be the most painful and grievous waiting I had ever experienced.

In a sense, all the world is waiting, even travailing through all our strife and division, all the struggle and sorrow.  We have eternity planted in our hearts and that manifests as a longing for all to be made right in the world.  In Romans 8 Paul described our travail as “…groaning as in the pains of childbirth,” but it is an agony mixed with joyful anticipation and eager hope for the new life coming.

The characters in the Christmas story, Zechariah, Elizabeth, Joseph and Mary, were also waiting, but with a sense of promise. Israel had been awaiting the promised Messiah for generations. While some had given up the wait, the people in the Christmas story had kept their heart soft and expectant.  They were able to receive the angels’ pronouncements like seeds planted in fertile soil.  But even they must have needed an added measure of assurance for all the angels’ announcements began with, “Do not be afraid.” 

We also can take these words to heart.  God knows how hard it is for us to wait, and especially to wait without fear. There is the fear of loss of loved ones, or health or income. There is fear of the future, hanging over us like a dark cloud of uncertainty.  Whatever it is that you’re waiting and hoping for, you are not alone. God’s desire from the beginning has been to be with us and centuries before that first Christmas the prophet Isaiah foretold the coming of Immanuel which means, “God with us.”

But He does not come to grant all our wishes like a genie in a bottle. I’ve been in a place of waiting for a long time, seeking answers and relief from some challenges. It is in the long wait that I am learning to not only let go of the relentless search for answers and with it a striving for control driven by fear,  but more importantly to trust that He is working everything out in the best way possible and that His pure and simple presence with me is enough.  It seems that the more I “let go” the more I’ve seen Him move on my behalf to bring resolution in ways I couldn’t have imagined or brought about.

This Christmas I pray that He will meet you where you are in your own place of brokenness or need.  More importantly I pray that you come to fully experience His love, grace and forgiveness. He who asks us to wait without fear is also waiting. He is waiting for you with open arms.

One day closer

Reflecting on the passing of 2015 and looking to what lies ahead, I gather my thoughts from several weeks back…

It was November 29, 4 a.m. and I was pacing the living room floor but not in a restless, agitated way but quietly, thoughtfully. I am waiting for my body to do whatever it needs to do to fall back into sleep. The only light in the room is from the not-quite full moon light filtering through the windows and the 7 watt bulb in the crèche, but it is enough to keep me from tripping or stumbling.

Waiting, it's not generally something I do patiently.

It was the first day of advent and advent is all about waiting. Waiting for His coming, and since he has already come in the flesh, we wait now for His second coming.

And as we read the headlines on the churning of world events, and the threats of terrorism near and far I suspect there is a greater longing for his coming stirred up in the hearts of many.

On a recent Saturday I spent some time with some Jews who believe that Jesus is THE Messiah, otherwise known as Messianic Jews. Two of them brought back a report of their volunteer service in Israel, Ukraine and Russia. In spite of all the turmoil and persecution in those regions, there are many Jews coming to believe in the Messiah. And they believe His second coming is imminent. 

In the quiet moments I listen to the tick-tick-tick of the clock, time moving relentlessly forward. I sometimes wish I could hold back its progress, especially in times of joy and rest. I want to linger a little longer in those moments and let them nourish my spirit but inevitably they seem to slip by so quickly. Yet for those suffering emotional or physical pain, the hours can seem to drag by so slowly.

Whether fast or slow, whatever the times or season, it always helps to remind ourselves that life is fleeting, and that every day brings us one day closer to that glorious Second Advent.

"You do not know what will happen tomorrow. For what is your life? it is even a vapor that appears for a little time and then vanishes away." (James 4:14)

John Piper offers this poignant and memorable advice for a new year:

"Life Is Short. Eternity Is Long. Live Like It.”