Lloyd

My friend and coworker. Lloyd, is sick. Not just kind of sick. Really sick. In the hospital in Indy sick. Scared everybody sick.

Someone asked me today if he is out of the woods. I wanted to say yes.

I didn't think I could. I think we are all 'in the woods.'. This week some crazy guy got all worked up and convinced a few people that the Rapture was going to happen on Saturday. A lot of people joked about it ithe circles I inhabit. A few kids got anxious.

Saturday came and went, and we are still here. Well, most of us are. Some people did die that day, and others on Sunday, more tomorrow. We each have our own personal Raptures. None of us is out of the woods.

That is what makes Christ's death and resurrectdion such good news, isn't it? We are going to go through it, and we will be fine. Death is not the end of the world, it is not even the end of our lives. We can trust this. The more we spend time with God, the morer the Spirit is able to reassure us. The more assured we are, the less we fear. The less we fear, the freer we are to love and risk and try.

Lloyd is improving daily, and I am glad. His life is stronger than the illness.

And when the woods beckons, when our bodies can't quite make it anymore, God is still good. Love never ends.

100 Years from Now

As a youth, my mom, font of wisdom that she is, always used to tell me: "100 years from now, no one will know the difference." It was usually when I was upset about something, or hadn't been able to meet someone's expectations. Since then, Mom's voice has echoed in my thoughts many times. What will this current situation mean 100 years from now?

Last week, a friend and I argued. I rarely lose my temper outside my family (that's a whole other subject), but in our conversation I could hear my voice raise in pitch. Neither of us said particularly hurtful words. We simply drove each other crazy, pushed one too many buttons. We ended with apologies, hopes for future, but our voices were still tight with anger. My stomach in knots, I simply went home.

On Sunday evening, we met accidentally at church. Maybe accidentally; it turned out to be a gift. We looked at each other, she hugged me. We didn't solve any problems, but we acknowledged we're on the same team. Reconciliation. Peace.

100 years from now, the conflict will be forgotten. We'll both be alive and well in the world to come. Jesus told us that whatever we bind, will be bound in the world to come, and whatever we loose will be loosed.

I'm going for loose. An eternity of loose sounds pretty good to me.

Moving Thoughts

Why do I hang on to all this stuff? This is my constant question as I pack boxes to move.

Memory. If I throw away the geegaw that James made in Kindergarten, will he think I don't love him? Will I forget the feeling of his little arm around my neck as we looked at his treasure together?

Frugality. If I need it again, I'll have to go buy it. Better to keep it and save money.

Confusion. I don't know what to do with this, but it's easier to pack it than to decide.

Truth is, though, all this stuff weighs me down. Do I want to feel light and free more than I want to hold on to memories? Is it really more frugal to keep things? How do I break through the confusion?

Moving is an evaluation. Not a bad thing, but sometimes not an easy thing.

Persistence (or insanity)

I put my garage door up early each morning as I go out to get the paper and give Kitty a little outdoor time. It remains open until I leave for work or to take James to school - maybe 30 minutes.

That's the way it was last week. I hustled James out to the car when a bird flew out of our garage. Following her flight path, I saw that she had built a nest. On the garage door opener motor above my car.

Perfectly sensible place for a nest, if you're a bird. Outside, it poured rain. The garage was nice and dry, protected from the wind. The location of the nest was isolated - no predator could climb to that box suspended from the ceiling. It was probably even a little warm from the light that glowed beneath it. I decided to leave the door up while I drove James to school.

Arriving home 10 minutes later, she had added significantly to her home. Long shreds of what was once blue and white rope hung down, brushing the top of my car. She flew out as I pulled in.

Randy investigated a bit later. No eggs, so the nest came down. He generously put it in the tree by the garage, in case she came looking. Problem solved, if you're a human.

But that bird would have none of it. Three days later, I again left the door up as I got the morning paper and ate breakfast. Once again, by the time I left for work, she had constructed a bit of a sloppy nest with long strings hanging down, pillaging the old nest in the tree for materials. She flew out, I closed the door.

Hours later, when I opened the door, in she streaked to the nest.

Randy removed it all once again this morning. Time will tell if she gives up or he does.

I marveled at her persistence. Door open, door closed, she waited somewhere nearby to get in and continue what she had begun. Her entire morning's work brushed away by a guy on a ladder didn't even deter her. I prayed that I might have that kind of dogged determination to work for good.

Then I smiled. Maybe it's not so much persistence as inexperience. Maybe she was one of those baby birds who fell out of the nest and landed on her head. After all, sometimes it's not a good thing to keep doing the same thing over and over, especially when the door keeps shutting in your face.

Maybe it's better if we learn from our failed efforts and try something new.

That was my philosophizing thought. The reality is, new is a little frightening and sometimes I'd rather repeat and repeat and repeat those things that get me nowhere rather than try something else. Insanity, someone said, is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result.

Persistence? That's a good thing. Insanity, not so much.

Wonder which lesson I need from the bird?

What I do know is that while Randy is quick to sweep the nest away, I'm secretly rooting for her to succeed.

Now, do I leave the door up a little longer tomorrow?