A fairy tale come true

I have been writing an inspirational sketch to send with Christmas cards for many years. Why do I do it?  Because by nature I am an “encourager.” I want to speak a few words that could give a measure of grace, strength and hope. We all can benefit from a good word to lift our spirits, especially at this time of year, but this is especially true for those facing an uncertain future, a scary diagnosis, a broken relationship, or just the daily challenges and setbacks.  


In the first days of advent I wait for the inspiration. Usually it comes from daily circumstances or something I’ve read. Regardless, it eventually all circles back to the original Christmas story. That’s because in that One Big Story of God becoming a human, living with us, dying for us, rising again, it’s THE message of love, hope and redemption that we all need.


How do I say it in this small space, but that all our little stories, all our hopes and fears, are wrapped up in that One Big Story. I’ve heard with my own ears the first-hand accounts of the down-and-out, the homeless, the broken, even those well off but still left feeling like something is missing. They all came to a place where they realized that His Story, ancient and true, is the only one that gives meaning to their own. 


For many of us that One Big Story can become so familiar that we lose our sense of wonder, or, it can seem so far-fetched, its hard to believe. It is for that reason that I read insightful writers who share a fresh perspective that captures the imagination and keeps the story alive.


This year I discovered a book and music album by Andrew Peterson. He was a preacher’s kid but grew up captivated by science fiction and fantasy novels as a form of escape. Eventually it was those same stories that primed his interest in the most fantastic story of all time, one that spoke most fully to his painful longing and pointed him to his heart’s true Home. He writes,


“…the Bible isn’t a book of rules or a book of heroes. The Bible is most of all, a story. It’s an adventure story about a young hero who comes from a far country to win back his lost treasure. It’s a love story about a brave prince who leaves his palace, his throne, everything, to rescue the one he loves. 


It’s like the most wonderful fairy tale that has come to real life… The best thing about this story is, it’s true. There are lots of stories in the Bible, but all the stories are telling one big story, the story of how God loves His children and comes to rescue them. 


… at the center of the story, there’s a baby. Every story in the Bible whispers his name. He is like the missing piece in a puzzle, the piece that makes all the other pieces fit together. And suddenly you can see a beautiful picture.”*


For many of us, our life’s story has turned out quite different than we had hoped with its disappointments and struggles. But all these centuries later, Jesus is still the puzzle piece that makes all the other pieces fit together. He came to bring meaning and hope to your story, my story, every story.

“…they will call him Immanuel, which means ‘God is with us.’”  Matthew 1:23 NIV

Good thoughts about labor...

I'm thinking that most people don't have inspiring thoughts as it pertains to Labor Day. We're just happy to have a day off work and perhaps enjoy some festivities. 

But somehow this day always stirs up gratitude for the somewhat convoluted trajectory my career path has taken. I won't start at the beginning, there's too much to tell. Instead I begin with my

move to Cleveland. 

I arrived here twenty plus years ago, having enrolled as a full time student in the photography/graphic arts program and Cuyahoga Community College, with the support from the unemployment bureau, since my grant-funded position in Sandusky had ended.

I had just transitioned out of a long stint in social services, the last position being the management of a crisis intervention team for adults with a dual diagnosis of mental illness and what was then called mental retardation. It was a deeply rewarding but very challenging position. 

It was a scary leap but those six months in school with students half my age turned out to be therapeutic for the weariness of working so many years in a challenging field. And it was a turning point in my, awakening a deeper awareness and appreciation for how I was designed to integrate my creative strengths into my vocation.  

Even then, I could not envision where it would eventually take me, to very unexpected places.  

For a time, I worked as a portrait photographer while continuing to explore photojournalism in a variety of contexts. After about five years of that I stumbled on an opportunity to use both my writing and photography skills in a communications position at The City Mission, as the writer, editor and photographer for the newsletter, annual report and other print and online media. Eventually that evolved into grant writing which brought further career fulfillment in being able to use my skills to raise support for worthy causes. 

Now I work for the Cuyahoga Valley Scenic Railroad, still in grant writing and after all these years, feel grateful that I am compensated a competitive salary and benefits for what I am good at and enjoy doing. Even more remarkable to me is that I arrived at this place without having taken any college classes in writing, journalism or communications. It was all a matter of trying to be sensitive to God’s leading and how he created me, with a particular set of interests and skills. 

My journey into this field started with my camera and a leap into the unknown. My camera is still with me often and continues to inspire and accompany my writing. 

There are so many twists and turns in my career path, many of them unexpected. But at every turn, it was clearly evident that God was going before me and being faithful to lead me through the challenges and uncertainties, and bringing fulfillment and delight in ways that I could never have orchestrated myself.

"...we are God’s masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago."  Ephesians 2: 10 NLT

Foundations of my writing life

I distinctly remember my Dad getting frustrated in trying to help me with my bookkeeping homework in high school. I am not sure how I ended up in the business curriculum instead of college prep. I clearly was not cut out for it.

More importantly, it is healing to think of all the ways my Dad encouraged me in my writing and photography.

He kept a handful of my writings from elementary school. He provided a camera for me at a young age and set a good example of documenting our childhood with his own SLR camera.

When I started writing a blog as an adult, he printed out my many blog posts and kept them in a binder. He made a copy of the handwritten prayer I read for a Thanksgiving dinner.

He often remarked that my photography was better than his, but I think he was probably much better at the technical aspects of getting a good exposure with a camera that required manual metering.

And he extended to me the invitation of writing obituaries for Mom and him. He mentioned it often and suggested I should write it ahead of time because perhaps I wouldn't be in a good frame of mind to do so when it was needed.

When I knew Mom's passing was imminent, I began thinking about it, but didn't write it until after she passed. Dad often remarked to me how much better it was than so many others he had read. He never again mentioned writing his ahead of time, he was confident it would be good.

What a privilege to be entrusted to effectively capture the essence of one’s life and to honor ninety plus years of living in a few paragraphs.

Thank you Dad, for all the ways you encouraged me in these things.

From the last lines of his obituary...

"The story-teller has fallen silent. His many years of family record keeping have been passed on to the next generation. And another of the “Greatest Generation” has passed on, with the invitation to those who follow to carry on the good fight."

Timelss resolve

155 years ago....a timeless New Year's resolve, from the diary of my great-great grandfather Loren Webb... He was in Minnesota at the time.

1 January, 1864

New Years Day, January 1st, 1864 This is the coldest day I have ever experienced. Mercury is 36 degrees below zero. I am at Hamline University still. I attended watch meeting last night and blessed be God, I was enabled to adopt some good resolves for the future and by the help of Divine Grace, I will mark this year with a greater growth in Christ and more work for the salvation of man. My heart is awakened to the great object of life. I thank God I am his. I am ready and willing to become what God wishes and go where he directs and perform his will. These times do I read and pray and the Word is growing sweeter and sweeter.

https://lorenwebb.blogspot.com/.../12/1-january-1864.html...

What a bold commitment of surrender.

Clear-headed

As we think about the year past, and into the year ahead, may we have uppermost in our minds, that every day brings us one day closer to Christ's return.

The apostle Paul admonished the church in Thessalonica to "be on guard, stay alert, be clearheaded..." To me, being clear-headed infers focus and intentionality in listening to and following God's leading. May we be implementing practices that clear our hearts and minds of distractions and put us in a place to hear.

"But you aren’t in the dark about these things, dear brothers and sisters, and you won’t be surprised when the day of the Lord comes like a thief.[b] 5 For you are all children of the light and of the day; we don’t belong to darkness and night. 6 So be on your guard, not asleep like the others. Stay alert and be clearheaded. 7 Night is the time when people sleep and drinkers get drunk. 8 But let us who live in the light be clearheaded, protected by the armor of faith and love, and wearing as our helmet the confidence of our salvation."
1 Thessalonians 5: 4-8 NLT

Decluttering

There’s nothing like changing residences to make us even more aware of our abundance, even our excess of possessions. This past fall I had the unique experience of moving from the residence where I had been house-sitting for the last six years, with a major portion of my belongings boxed up in storage in the basement. As I unpacked them in my new residence, I quickly became aware of how much my priorities, lifestyle and tastes had changed in six years. 

Having a new place to live has given me a fresh perspective, like a blank canvas waiting for a new interpretation of what I would enjoy for a living space. My living room sat empty for almost two months during which time I had the joy of finding furnishings and accessories that worked well together. 

I even decluttered my Christmas decorating this year. There’s the small Christmas tree with just the lights and no ornaments, and the nativity I inherited from my parents, the plastic figures and the hand-made        shelter, the single light in the back. Sometimes at night I turn out all the lights but that one in the creche. It’s that little space of quiet at the end of the day that stirs up gratitude in my heart that His love compelled Him come to us, bringing light and hope into our broken lives. 

The decluttering of my physical environment has made space for something better, but it has also reminded me of how much emotional and mental clutter can take up too much space in our minds and hearts. Maybe it’s a worn-out worry, or the excess baggage of regret, resentment or unforgiveness. 

Unlike the wise men who brought treasures to the Christ child, we have nothing to give him, except our hearts, our broken, divided, cluttered hearts. But indeed, that is what He wants, that is why He came.

How well I know, decluttering can seem so big and overwhelming that I don’t want to start. In those times, I tell myself, “one step at a time,” with the realization that it is a life-long process and habit. Decluttering the heart has the added challenge of setting aside our many distractions, especially cell phones and to-do lists.

But just as the empty room or the blank canvas invites something new to be created, likewise that quiet space in our day, even 10 minutes, and a willing spirit is the means by which the Master Artist begins regenerating our hearts. We lay before him that clutter, a problem to be solved, a difficult memory, an unrelenting regret, a nagging feeling we may not even be able to name. And we invite him to speak life and hope into that space. 

“No matter what feels beyond fixing, One came from beyond the walls of this world because His heart is fixed on you, and you are loved far beyond your wildest hopes and deepest needs.”*

The song I’ve had on replay recently is “Here’s my heart, Lord. Speak what is true…” **

At Christmas and in all the days ahead, let this be our simple prayer,  “Here’s my heart, Lord. Speak what is true.” 

*Ann Voskamp

**Chris Tomlin

Take care of yourself and leave a legacy

Have been thinking about how my parents' generation and my own came to rely on pharmaceuticals and OTC remedies for whatever ails us. Thankfully, awareness of better alternatives is growing.

My Dad was always physically and socially active into his last years. He never watched television and that probably extended his life. He used to say that he just wanted to stay around long enough to take care of my Mom who struggled with dementia. When Mom passed away in Sept 2013, he missed her deeply but he still seemed driven to persevere even though I'm sure at times he had to push himself. Shortly before Mom passed, he had bought a big zero-turn mower and seemed to get a kick out of it. He not only mowed his own yard but a couple of neighbors' yards too.

Both of my parents relied a lot on pharmaceuticals. Then Dad had an awakening. He had been under the weather and wouldn't come out of the house when his friends called. One of the neighbors took it upon himself to just go in the house and check on him and then insisted that he was taking my Dad to the hospital. That's when it was discovered his blood sugar was super high. He was in ICU for a while getting stabilized. I'm so grateful for the neighbor taking that initiative because it is likely he would gone into a diabetic coma or died.

On discharge he was prescribed insulin injections and my brother and I were with him that day when the home health care nurse came to show him how to do the injections. It was New Year's Day.

Shortly thereafter he announced that he was going to get off the insulin and maintained tight control of his diet. He used to pooh-pooh my ideas for alternatives but this time he was open to a couple ideas that would help control his sugar. 

Then he took up an exercise program at the age of 92. Since it was winter he started out walking back and forth between the back of the house to the front door and gradually built up to doing that 50 times more than once a day. Then he bought some dumbbells and put in some extra arm movements when he walked. He was off the insulin within a few months. I distinctly remember him telling me that his vision, energy, mood, and sleep were all greatly improved. 

Maybe I get some of my determination, perseverance and passion for a healthy lifestyle from Dad. I'm grateful.

Thank you Dad, for your tender care of Mom and for taking care of yourself and giving us more treasured time to spend with you.