To the grave.

I’ve worked in the church for almost 15 years now in one way, shape, form or another.  I’ve befriended those that love her and would go down for her.  I’ve befriended those that dislike her and have a slight bitter taste in their mouth from her.   

As I look through history (mine and the book kind), I am the first to admit that on many days the church misses the boat; the church as a whole and as a community of people, goof up and get it sometimes wrong.   She tries.  They try.  We try. It’s fair to say that the church is made up of faithful people trying to find God; believe in God and follow God.  But still we fall and therefore she falls short.   

That being said,  today the Church had one of her most glorious moments.  Today the church got it right.   Today in particular, the community gathered at St. Paul’s Episcopal Church in Franklin, TN hit the nail on the head. 

Bob told me of a conversation he’d had with the family absolutely besotten at their loss.   It concluded with him lovingly offering the suggestion to just trust us; to let us, i.e. the church, do what we do well.   

And today we lived up to Bob’s promise, we did church well. 

"yet even at the grave we make our song, Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia."   

-from the Requiem in the BCP

And with tears streaming and noses sniffling, following the lead of our rector, the church mustered up it’s strength today to sing those Alleluia’s at the grave of a wife, friend, mother, grandmother, a "humphy," piano teacher; to sing for their beloved.    Not because their hearts wanted to sing "alleluia" (far from it) but because the life we were commending to God, was worthy of such a strong and beautiful song.   

So the church did good today.   She may miss the mark on some days.  But today she sang the alleluia she has been called to sing; the alleluia the world yearns to hear. the alleluia I personally as one of those faithful people who keep on trying, needed to sing.

alleluia.  alleluia.   alleluia.   

My four legged friend.

so this evening, I was so wiped out from the last few days that I just couldn’t even muster the strength to "fix" something to eat let alone "cook."  And couple that with the realization that somehow I hadn’t eaten since my bowl of cereal this morning at 8am, I ordered pizza - thincrust with plenty of veggies.   

After we’d finished, I realized something - you know your four legged friend is really part of the family when instinctively you save him the last two tiny pieces of pizza.   Alas many would disapprove I realize (especially the vets out there) but today he had to stay home (normally he comes to church and shares my work with me).  It was a very long and hard - though somehow still bright and beautiful - day and so it seemed only natural to share my pizza with my faithful, four-legged companion.   

Gotta love me and my dog — me and Bugs! 

All.

And I heard a loud voice from the throne, saying, "Behold,the tabernacle of God is among men, and He will dwell among them, and they shall be His people, and God Himself will be among them,

and He will wipe away every tear from their eyes; and there will no longer be any death; there will no longer be any mourning, or crying, or pain; the first things have passed away."

And He who sits on the throne said, "Behold, I am making all things new "

or as Julian puts it: All shall be well.  All manner of things shall be well.

All things.  A L L things. 

even 007.  tomorrow we’re going to see the new bond, 007!  all things new, even a new Bond.  Not sure Dad will be a fan of the new bond and the new 007 but it’s easier than hiring a Rolls Royce to remember the day.

All things.   A l l things.

I laughed.

Blessed are you who weep now, for you shall laugh.   - Luke 6:21

So I laughed last night.   

I laughed hard and long and loud. 

I laughed not just on the outside but within. 

My heart and my spirit laughed.

I laughed last night. 

And it was a gift.   

A gift that came all the way from Florida. 

A gift I hadn’t seen in a good, long while.   

A gift I was actually able to receive.   

And I laughed.   (dad was laughing, too). 

And it was good.  (and it was good to be near Dad as well).

And

        I

               shall

                      laugh

                              again.

And Speaking of Grace

So Janey Grace (my neice who is just about 1 years old) was over last night.   

She’s such a sweet and tender soul that exudes Grace. Perhaps in part because she was born within two weeks of Dad dying.   

Somehow though, she takes care of me as I take care of her.   I still don’t quite get how it works out that way, but it does.   The Year of Grace, and of Janey Grace-  my gentle, sweet reminder of the Grace and Life still to come.   

Just as it seems the world is falling around you.  The one thing you know is the one thing that guides you.  It’s deep in your soul, it’s waits in the wings to take everything.  And I’m calling you.  I’m calling you…   I’m calling, I’m calling, I’m calling you.

The images fade, the voice loses tone, the memories shared are the last ones to go. You’re fighting to keep them, you’re screaming inside.  But the darkness sets in and there’s no where to hide.  And I’m calling you... I’m calling you.  I’m calling, I’m calling, I’m calling you.

One life ends and another begins. The words that they use just complicate things.  There’s no way to say it without sounding sincere,but I’ll keep you, I’ll need you for all of my years.  And I’m calling you… I’m calling you.  I’m calling, I’m calling, I’m calling you   

-Matthew Chambers, November 18th, 2005 

The Year of Grace

a bouquet of roses instead of ashes

messages of joy instead of mourning

a praising heart instead of a faint spirit

renamed: Oaks of Righteousness planted by God to reveal His glory. 

They’ll start over taking the rubble left over and make it new.   

Isaiah 61.

so maybe this year, you should just call me "Oak Tree?"   

This year, this year just beginning, this year, the Year of Grace.

In Life, In Death…

Where is death’s sting? Where grave, thy victory?

I triumph still, if thou Abide with Me.

In life, in death, O Lord Abide with me. 

-Henry Francis Lyte 1793-1847, Devonshire, England.

One of dad’s favorite hymns.   

I know it’s just another day and just like yesterday and the day before and the day before that, Dad’s not here.   But today marks the day that finally he got to go home.  Today marks the day that he was finally ok.   

Even though it’s just another day, it’s still harder than I thought it would be.   

But today Mum’s ok.  Dad’s ok.  And I, too am ok.  A year later, I’m ok.   

I triumph still, if thou abide with me. 

In life, in death, O Lord abide with me. 

You know you’re a…

so you know you’ve acclamated to Fairbanks when you look at the temperature outside and say 14 below - hey look, it’s not that cold.

But have no fear though I’m still not an "alaskan" - I will never be able to wear flip flops in the snow.

More Postcards.

So this is fantastic — it’s my favorite time of day all day in Fairbanks.   

The time of day where the light is soft and warm and gentle.  You can move through the long shadows all day long.

It takes about 3 hours for the sun to set (starts about 1pm).  It takes about 3 hours for the sun to rise.  Christy (along with Kyle - who rocks, incidentally - God has done good, real good for my oldest and dearest friend - what a great man.) was joking the other day  that everything moves slowly in Fairbanks.   Service in restaurants is slow.   House calls for repairs and maintenance take longer than it "should."   Even the airport runs slow (it’s not a big enough airport; there aren’t enough planes landing simultaneously for it to take as long as it does to get your baggage).  Apparently, nothings happens fast in Fairbanks, apparently.

But I like it.  I like it alot.   Not only is my favorite time of day extended enormously and for all intensive purposes lasts all day.  But as crazy as it may sound, in this place where the day rapidly shrinks (6 minutess a day) and anxiety somewhat increases to make the most of the light, some how there seems me to more time in Fairbanks.  More time for baggage to arrive; for food to be served; for calls to be made.  More time for the sun to set; more time for the sun to rise.

I like this, "more time." 
I like this pace. 
I like that it takes 3 hours for the sun to rise. 
I  like how it slows me down. 
I like how life here in Alaska seems to listen and respond to the world that grows them.   how life here seems to beat in rhthym with the Giver of Life.   I like how I am pulled back in sync with my Creator, my Redeemer, my Restorer.   

A 3 hour sun rise — everyone should try it.

"Step out of the traffic and take a long, loving look at me, your God…"  - Psalm 46:10 (The Message)

God awake, again.

It’s 25 below today in Fairbanks — it’s fair to say that both God and I are awake again.