Category: Thinking about Family

The Second Christmas

On By mdannels3In Thinking about Family, Thinking about God, Thinking about LoveLeave a comment

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Last year at this time, our family was experiencing it’s first Christmas without my brother. I say experiencing, because although we celebrated the coming of Christ, the celebration, in many ways, was painful, lonely, and incomplete. My niece and nephew dreaded that first Christmas without their dad. We all dreaded that first Christmas without the phone call — the one where my brother asked how we were and told us that he loved us.

There are many people who tell you that grief gets easier with time. Forgive me if I doubt their words.

I’ve been blessed to have a friend who was a chaplain for a hospice organization. She taught me some things about grief and loss, and I’d like to share a few of them with you. I am not an expert and anything I share that is incorrect is entirely my responsibility and my lack of understanding. I would ask your forgiveness.

Did you know that grief is a physical, emotional, and spiritual process? It impacts us in ways we do not expect and often, in ways we do not understand. There is something called a “grief burst.” A grief burst occurs when our emotions take control and suddenly, seemingly without warning, we burst into tears caused by an overwhelming sense of grief. They are not easily explained to those around us and can, in fact, be quite embarrassing. Personally, I still experience them — rarely. Now they are  tied to a memory or an event.

Grief is a personal journey. Some people seem to move through it almost unscathed. Others seem to be stuck in the midst of it, never able to move forward. My friend taught me that grief continues to effect the body, spirit, and mind for at least two years. If you are grieving several losses at once, the time is extended significantly.

As pastors, we’ve always told those who were grieving something that we heard somewhere — sadly, I don’t recall the source. We’ve told them to be prepared for that year of firsts: first birthday without that special loved one, holidays, routines, phone calls, gifts, and any event that holds special significance because of the presence of the person who was lost. Then, we would say something like, “The first year will be hard — you are prepared for that. But be prepared for the second year to be harder in its own way. You see, the first is difficult because it IS the first time you’ve navigated these events without that special person. The second year — and all of the years afterward will remind you that this is a permanent situation. Be prepared for that renewed grief. It will be different, but it will be there.”

I’ve discovered this Christmas season that we were right. The second year, in it’s own way, is harder than the first.

I wonder how God felt when He first sent Jesus to earth. He sent Him with a purpose, but even so, they were separated. Their separation was not just for a year or two — it was for thirty plus years. They still communicated and their relationship was different than mine with my brother. Even so, as a loving Father, He would miss His Son.

So this Christmas, as I’m once again missing my big brother, I know that God understands. He has experienced my sense of loss — my grief. As I walk through these days of great joy, yet tremendous loss, I am assured and comforted by the fact that He is with me. He’s holding me and making these moments bearable.

I still ask Jesus to hug my brother for me; I probably always will.

Many of my friends have experienced loss in the past few years. My thoughts and prayers are with you. I’m not sure what number of Christmases you’ve celebrated without your loved one, but I know that God will be with you — just as He is with me and mine on this, our Second Christmas.

Merry Christmas!

Daddy’s Wallet

On By mdannels3In Thinking about Family, Thinking about Love, Thinking about RelationshipsLeave a comment
Marylouise, Byrlene, Daddy, Gayla, and Frank -- a few years AFTER the wallet incident.
Marylouise, Byrlene, Daddy, Gayla, and Frank — a few years AFTER the wallet incident.

It was worn, brown leather. It had been carried for years and one day it taught me two valuable lessons — even though I had to be an adult to truly appreciate them.

We grew up in the time when you ate at home. Mom cooked. Kids washed up. The meals often featured meat we had raised ourselves and called by name. Of course there was also the meat that Daddy or my brother hunted. (Yes, I know. Some people don’t like hunting — I get that. I went hunting with my Dad once, he sat me on a rock and told me to not talk to the deer that passed. He knew I wouldn’t shoot one. However, for our family of six, elk and venison were an important part of our diet and they made feeding the family affordable.) Our family rarely enjoyed a meal at a restaurant. So “going out” was truly a treat.

My Mom worked at the hospital and often worked weekends. It was on one of those Sundays that we decided to treat our Dad to “lunch out.” My sisters babysat and had other jobs — they saved their money and maybe my brother and I pitched in what we had. We went to a small cafe on Main Street. I really don’t remember much about lunch, but at the end, the waitress brought the ticket. I watched as my oldest sister looked at the ticket, swallowed, and began counting the money. She counted it two or three times and my stomach began hurting. I knew that something was dreadfully wrong.

Finally, my self-assured, confident sister looked at Daddy with tears in her eyes and softly said, “Daddy….”

He responded just as I would expect, “I guess you guys are going to be doing some dishes.” And then, of course, he reached for his wallet. There was no money in the bill section. He held it open and showed it to us so we wouldn’t think he was teasing. He began removing documents from the small compartments: license, social security card (back before we were warned to not carry them), along with a few other small items. After that, he began pulling out school photos of his four children.

Somewhere in my head, I expected him to pull out four pictures, one each of Byrlene, Gayla, Frank, and Marylouise. Instead, he pulled out a picture for each year of school through which we had passed: grade school, junior high, and high school. He continued to search, and he finally pulled out a small folded object, a $20 bill. Tossing it to my sister, he said, “I was afraid I had spent it.”

We all began to breath easier.

As he was returning things to his wallet, I stacked four sets of pictures putting the most recent on top. Daddy took them from me and carefully placed them back in his wallet. Byrlene took “our” money along with Daddy’s $20 and went to the counter to pay the bill.

Yes, the obvious lesson was learned. Be prepared. Seriously though, what 10 year old girl truly understands the concept of “being prepared?” I’ve come to understand the importance of that lesson as an adult — even though I saw the importance of it, up close and personal, that Sunday at a Colorado diner.

The second lesson is one that I have come to truly understand as a mother — even though, in truth, I learned it from my Daddy’s wallet. You see, I’ve come to recognize how Daddy loved his kids. He loved us at every stage of our life and he treasured the memories from every age. In the pictures, he could see the growth spurts, the awkward stages, the missing (or broken) teeth, the hair cuts, the freckles, crooked smiles, and questionable fashion. In all of these things and stages there were treasures of memories and hopes, successes and failures, gangly limbs, and bright shining eyes. He treasured them all. Four stacks of photos were proof of that.

A Lesson in the Clouds

On By mdannels3In Thinking about Family, Thinking about GodLeave a comment
Even the clouds over San Diego Bay hid a few surprises for us.
Even the clouds over San Diego Bay hid a few surprises for us.

Another vignette in the life of our family — a day in the life of our boys and me. It always amazes me how we are able to learn from children. This is an afternoon that is etched on my heart. Although the conversation may not have gone exactly as I’ve written it, it was close to this. Our boys have grown and changed. In fact, they are now men which makes it even more important that these memories be saved and shared. These moments and others that are frozen in time are precious to me — especially when God used them to speak to me.

“Look, Mommy, look! There’s an elephant!” Benji exclaimed, pointing his chubby fingers at the cloud floating by.

“That’s not an elephant,” Phillip seriously explained, “it’s a walrus.”

Suddenly the trampoline where they lay bucked and their bodies bounced on the warm black mat. The boys squealed as Nathan flopped into the middle, smacking his gum and wriggling into a spot between Ben and Mom. “Watcha’ doin’?” he asked.

In his usual adult-like voice Phillip answered, “Cloud watching, found a walrus a minute ago.”

“Nu uh… it was an elephant,” corrected Benji sticking his tongue out at his brother.

“Ooooh, Benji, you just told Phillip you loved him! Remember, Mom said when we stick out our tongue at someone we’re really saying, ‘I love you,’” Nathan teased.

Before the argument escalated Mom interrupted, “Nathan, did you bring the sunscreen?”

Taking it from his proffered hand she reminded them to apply it carefully. “Okay boys, if we’re taking our afternoon rest on the trampoline, we’re going to wear sunscreen so here we go.” Quickly, the sunscreen was rubbed onto legs, arms, ears, freckled noses, necks, and grinning faces. “One more spot!” she said asking them to close their eyes and rub a bit of sunscreen onto their closed eyelids and the tender skin around them.

“Mommy, why do we have to put sun screen on our eyeballs?” Phillip asked.

“Well, I know that we aren’t napping,” she said winking at the two older boys, “but just in case someone falls asleep, we don’t want any eyelids getting burned and getting blisters. Ouch!”

“Oh yeah, that happened to you when you were in college. You burned your eyelids, had big old blisters, and couldn’t open your eyes for a couple of days, didn’t it Mom?” Nathan asked while telling the often-repeated story.

Her heart broke a little at his use of “Mom,” rather than Mommy. Her boys were growing up too fast.
“Yes it did,” she said as she tickled his feet. “It’s time to lay down and rest. Remember, we’re going to watch the clouds float by and find pretty shapes while we rest.”

“Not nap time, huh Mommy?” Benji chimed as he rubbed his nose. It was always the first part of him to show that he was tired. Rubbing his nose meant that the sand man would soon be visiting.

“No, Son-Shine, not nap time. Today, it’s just rest time.”

“Mommy sing the “Sunshine” song,” Ben begged.

“Let’s all sing it,” Phillip requested as he began to lead them in the song. Even at his early age, music mattered. “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are gray. You’ll never know dear, how much I love you. Please don’t take my sunshine away.”

They scrambled to find their perfect spot to look for cloud formations. Phillip and Benji snuggled in close to Mom, and Nate half lay, half sat at their feet. Soon a soft snoring could be heard coming from Benji, but the watching continued. So far they’d seen an elephant/walrus, Pinnochio, a T-Rex, and a turtle.

“Mommy, why do things hide in the clouds?” the ever so logical Phillip asked.

“I know,” Nathan confidently stated as he launched into a perfectly good, kindergarten explanation of wind currents, humidity, and cloud formations.

Disgusted, Phillip said, “I know all that. I want to know why there are things in the sky that we can see. How come, Mommy?”

“Well, I guess it’s a combination of science – what Nathan said and our imaginations. All of those big poofy clouds get blown around, way up there in the atmosphere and we get to lay here and use the imaginations that God gave us to find the unexpected things – things like walruses and turtles. Maybe God hides them there to see if we are truly paying attention. What do you think?”

Being the oldest, Nathan thought for a moment, “You know Mom, I think maybe your right.”

“Oh,” Phillip replied in disappointment, “I thought God just put them there to give us a surprise and make our days happier.”

“You know, bud, I think I like your explanation better than mine. There are times when God does put things in our lives just to remind us of Him and to make our days better. Maybe cloud animals are some of those things.”

His shy smile peaking out, Phillip reached for Mom’s hand, pointed to the sky and exclaimed, “Look! A penguin!”

When Suicide Touches The Family

On By mdannels3In Thinking about Family, Thinking about RelationshipsLeave a comment
My big brother, Frank, telling us goodbye after a visit to Colorado from Alaska.
My big brother, Frank, telling us goodbye after a visit to Colorado from Alaska.

This little rhyme (in its many forms) has a lot to say to us about consequences….

For want of a nail, the shoe was lost;
For want of the shoe, the horse was lost;
For want of the horse, the rider was lost;
For want of the rider, the battle was lost;
For want of the battle, the kingdom was lost;
And all for the want of a horseshoe nail

For a year we have lived with the consequences of a decision that was a result of even more decisions…

For want of resources, he was denied help….

On Saturday, February 8, 2014, my brother, an honorably discharged veteran, died from a self-inflicted gunshot wound. Frank was a tall, kind, and funny man. He wore creativity like a cloak, was inventive and talented beyond description. His love for family caused him to be, at times, protective and over-bearing. Then suddenly, 12 months ago, this enigma of a man was gone and our family is heart-broken.

Two weeks before he chose to end his life, Frank went to the emergency room seeking relief. He had been on an anti-depressant for an extended period of time, yet suicidal thoughts continued to plague him. He sought a change in medication, or to be hospitalized until he could better cope – anything. He asked for help, but help was not to be found. The mental health facility was filled to capacity. Frank was sent home without receiving the help he sought.

Someone somewhere failed to help my brother.

For want of help, hope was lost….

You see Frank was and is a statistic:

• In America, according to CNN, veterans commit suicide at the rate of twenty-two per day. That is one every 65 minutes. My brother was a Vet.

In addition, according to the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention:

• Using firearms is the most common method of suicide with 50.6% of those who choose to end their lives using a gun. My brother chose a shotgun.
• White men are 4x more likely to die of suicide than white females who attempt it. My brother was a white male.
• Of the 38, 364 people who successfully committed suicide in 2010, the highest percentage of suicide victims were between the ages of 45 and 64, and 78.9% were men. My brother was 56.
• By state in the US, the second highest suicide rate is found in Alaska with 23.1% of its population committing suicide in any given year – it is barely beaten by Wyoming at 23.2%. My brother had lived in Alaska for more than twenty years.

He was a statistic.

For want of hope, a man found no way to cope….

The question that plagues me is, how do we as a nation, as a country of caring people, prevent this from being the only option that a person feels he or she has left?

For want of a way to cope, a man sought relief…

While “suicide prevention” seems to be the obvious answer, it does not work when help remains unavailable. So what can be done about the ones who seek help and find that help is not available?

The system is broken. There are suicide prevention hotlines, but a person who goes to the source of medical care and cannot be cared for should be able to ask, “Why not?” In my mind and heart, I want to find the doctor who saw my brother and ask him why he didn’t help.

However, the real question is, what can be done to enhance the effectiveness of a mental health program that sends a suicidal man home with the advice to call his doctor? How will we address the needs of veterans — and others — like my brother?

For want of relief, a good man died….

I understand that resources are limited. Even so, it is time to evaluate where money is spent. Before someone says it, this isn’t an issue of gun control; this is an issue of healthcare – mental healthcare, to be exact.

How can our nation reform healthcare and fail to address the availability of resources? We must evaluate the resources that are available, address the needs – meet them. We can’t simply reform one kind of healthcare – we must address mental healthcare as well. Systems need to be in place to prevent the tragedy that is now our family’s reality. The lack of available resources must be addressed.

It’s time to fix a broken system.

All for the want of resources to help….

I doubt that the person who told my brother to make an appointment even knows the end result of his thoughtless statement. Our family is living with those consequences every single day, and we will for the rest of our lives.

 

MEMORIES: Terrible, Wonderful Memories

On By mdannels3In Thinking about Communication, Thinking about Family, Thinking about Love, Thinking about Relationships2 Comments
My family at my Aunt Sally and Uncle Bud's wedding. I was the flower girl. L to R: Charlotte, Me, Dad (Emory), Frank, Mom (Jean), Gayla
My family at my Aunt Sally and Uncle Bud’s wedding. I was the flower girl. L to R: Charlotte, Me, Dad (Emory), Frank, Mom (Jean), Gayla

We all have childhood memories. I have many — some when I was quite young, maybe three or so. Probably my first memory was when I was the flower girl in my aunt and uncle’s wedding. When we practiced, someone tore up some paper (I think it was an adult Sunday School paper) so that I would have something to drop as I practiced walking up the aisle. I don’t remember the wedding, but I remember that rehearsal and the person (I seem to remember that it was a man in our church) who took time to make me feel special.

Memories. They can bless and they can hurt. Honestly, I’ve been pretty emotional since Thanksgiving. It was hard to be away from our oldest son and daughter-in-love, parents, sisters, brothers. It was hard to know that Thanksgiving and Christmas would never again include that phone call where we passed the phone around and everyone talked to my brother. And it was hard to have new traditions and new friends and new jobs. It was good. Still, it was hard.

I’ve been thinking a lot about memories — the wonderful ones, the terrible ones, and the terrible wonderful memories.

Does that make sense to anyone but me?

There are memories that are wonderful. They are precious, heart-warming, comfort-giving, and even life-affirming. Playing in a park in Paonia, Colorado with cousins. Driving my Grandmother to a retreat center in the mountains. Being trusted to take my Dad’s truck to fetch a load of coal — and being reminded to pay attention to the speed limit signs. (Now why would he feel the need to do that?) Sitting in a restaurant with my Mom watching swans on a lake in Carlsbad, NM. Being called a “little Gayla” at the Montrose High School. Getting my first turquoise necklace from my oldest sister. Watching my brother box. Learning to sew from second Mom. Seeing a fast white car and noticing the red-headed, bearded guy who owned it. Holding three baby boys in my arms. Dear friends, loved ones, laughter, travel, successes.

Other memories are terrible. They are painful or embarrassing. Some of them are of times when I really wished I would have shriveled up and vanished. Misspeaking and saying the totally wrong thing — and then having people repeat it. Playing the piano for the 9th grade choir during the school Christmas concert, having the gym door open and all of the music blowing off the piano and all around the gym. Being told that you weren’t “good enough” to be a member of a school club. Crying when you try to read 8th graders a story about the Civil War. (They aren’t empathetic, nor are they tolerant of emotion.)

And then there are the terrible, wonderful memories. Those are the ones that have been causing me to be so emotional during the past two months. They are the special memories. They are memories that I treasure — but they are tinged with regret… We should have hugged tighter and said, “I love you” more; I should have listened better — I wonder what I missed; I should have let him have one more sip of water; One more story before bed wouldn’t have hurt anything; We should have jumped on the trampoline in the rain; There should have been more museum visits — even tough we visited hundreds; I wish we would have gone Christmas caroling more often and had a few more snow ball fights.

Terrible wonderful memories are a fact of life. We do things and we build memories that are precious and treasured. As our children grow older, as we lose loved ones, as we move away from a long time home, or change from a career we loved to one we merely like, we come to realize how very important the memories are. But even more, we realize the importance of making more of them. And hopefully, we understand that people are more important than schedules or cell phone minutes or muddy finger prints or appointments.

I wish I would have remembered that more often… And, by God’s grace, I will remember it in the future.

How about you?

 

A Year of Change

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An amazing Colorado sunset captured from our old back yard.
An amazing Colorado sunset captured from our old back yard.

It wasn’t the way I wanted the year to go. You know, you make plans. There are things that you want to do — things that you want to accomplish — goals, dreams, and plans… And then it happens.

Life, that is.

Recently, we watched THE MUPPET CHRISTMAS CAROL. (My favorite Christmas movie.) In one part of the movie, Bob Cratchett (Kermit the Frog) is talking to his family after the death of Tiny Tim, he says, “…Life is made up of meetings and partings. That is the way of it. I am sure we will never forget Tiny Tim… or this first parting that there was among us…” (Script-o-rama.com)

That line captivated me. I’ve probably seen the movie a few hundred times (literally), but that line really touched me this time. This year, my immediate family experienced it’s first parting — if you’ve read my blog before, you know that. In February, my brother went home to Heaven. As much as I miss him, I would not bring him back into this world for anything, for he is HOME. He is pain free. He is tear free. He is content and complete. And he is in the presence of our Heavenly Father.

I like to remember that he is there with our great-niece, Alorea, with his son, Michael, with my nephew, Chris, with my former student Reid who is not resting in peace — he’s playing in paradise, with our Grandmother who took 100 years of wisdom with her to Heaven, and with our daughter, Jessie, who we never got to meet. His parting was hard on us. But we are moving forward — NOT moving on, but moving forward.

Then, life happened again…

People made decisions that they needed to make. Their choices had lasting impact on situations that affected others around them. And our life has changed as a result.

We quit jobs we loved, left a church we loved, said good-bye to family we love and moved to Wisconsin. It was a big change. And honestly, it has been a hard change, but it has been a good change. I cannot believe how easy the transition was from the Rockie Mountains to the Upper Midwest.

When God is in it — we stand in awe at how difficulties can be simplified.

And once again, life happened…

Our oldest son has been a weight lifter and an MMA fighter. He is a body builder. But he got sick — really sick. And we are 1000 miles away.

And God showed, once again, that He is faithful. His people — our family, colleagues, and friends — have surrounded them, loved them, provided for them, and been there for them when we cannot be.

And we are thankful.
Our son and daughter are blessed.

So…it wasn’t the year I planned — it wasn’t the year that I wanted…but it was the year that God gave to us. It was the one in which He knew He would need to show us His comfort, His compassion, His provision, and His love.

And He has.

A Musical Christmas

On By mdannels3In Silliness, Thinking about Family, Thinking about GodLeave a comment

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Okay, who is your favorite musical artist? Now, the tougher question, who is your favorite Christmas musical artist? Hmmmm… I wonder who I should pick?

Mr. Gorgeous and I have been married for 28 1/2 years, making this our 29th Christmas together. As newlyweds, we decided to buy one Christmas CD every year, we started with Mannheim Steamroller. (Thank you, Jerry Dannels, for introducing us to their amazing music!) For years, we would always buy the newest Mannheim Christmas CD. Yes, we have them all.

Of course, we couldn’t stop with synthesized, contemporary versions of Christmas carols, could we? Enter Amy Grant… and Alabama… and The Carpenters… and Big Bands… and the Rat Pack… and Michael W. Smith… and Jim Brickman… and the Trans-Siberian Orchestra (Shhh! Don’t tell Phillip!)… and a Spanish Guitar Christmas… and a Steel Drum Christmas… and A Cow Christmas (yes, it’s a real CD and I love, “The 12 Days of a Cow’s Christmas!”)… and Third Day… and Selah… and… and… and… and the list goes on and on and on.

To be honest, there simply aren’t enough days to listen to all of the amazing Christmas music on my I-pod, let alone in the basket that holds the Christmas CDs. Piffle!

I do believe that we could start listening to Christmas music in June and still not repeat a CD in December. Okay, that may be a slight exaggeration… but only a slight one. Seriously, we’ve spent a ton of money on Christmas CDs and I don’t regret it a bit. Granted, there have been a few CDs that have been disappointing, but truthfully, very few.

I think it’s the content and the message and the reason for the music that makes it special.

After all, the carols and hymns and ballads follow the pattern set for us by the angels as they sang, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to those upon whom His favor rests.”

Christmas music: synthesized, sung, played, classical, country, Christian. Whatever form it takes, it brings us to a reminder of this season. No, not every song talks about the Christ child. Some of them talk about snowmen and Santa Claus and reindeer. Even so, can’t we allow God to redeem the secular things of this world and to use them as reminders that it is a special season?

When I hear a Christmas song — any Christmas song — I remember WHY it is Christmas. That’s why we collect Christmas music. It reminds us that in Bethlehem a baby was born and He came to be the Savior of the world. But even more, He came to be MY Savior. I pray He is your Savior too.

Thanks be to God for His indescribable gift!

Thankful, Grateful, Blessed

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Five Kernels of Corn
Five Kernels of Corn

Last Sunday at church my pastor, aka Mr. Gorgeous, told the story of the Pilgrims. He told about the horrible famine and lack of resources that they experienced. In fact, at one time the situation became so critical that food was strictly rationed. For a brief period of time, every person in the colony was restricted to five kernels of corn per day. FIVE KERNELS… Can you imagine living on five kernels of corn a day? I cannot.

As things continued with the terrible drought, the Pilgrims gathered for prayer. They prayed and prayed and begged God for rain. He answered and gave them two weeks of consistent, gentle rain. The crops were revived and the harvest was plentiful. They gathered for a feast to thank God for His bountiful provision. As they sat to eat their meal, someone placed five kernels of corn at each place setting to remind them of how very far God had brought them.

Before John preached, he gave each of us a small plastic container holding five small kernels of corn to remind us of the journey of our relationship with God.

Five kernels.

I have to confess that I often look at the blessings and the things that He has given me and I forget how far He has brought me. I forget the journey.

There are times that I look at my life and I think about the things that we haven’t done or haven’t done well enough. You know, we should have more in savings than we do, our retirement fund should be larger, we should be able to do more to help those around us. And even though all of those things may be true, I need to see the journey — I need to thank God and acknowledge Him for how very far He has brought us. I need to be thankful for the travel from point A to point B.

What did we learn from the journey? We learned that choices today have consequences tomorrow. We learned that it really is best to pay up front — whether it be financially or with work and effort. We learned that following God’s plan takes us to places and provides us with blessings we could never imagine — even if the journey isn’t always the most pleasant. We’ve learned that the journey is something to be grateful for.

I’m thankful for being the youngest of four: for two precious older sisters — as different as night and day — and an amazing big brother with whom I fought and who I miss terribly. I’m thankful for five parents — Mom, Dad, Momma (2nd mom), Mom-in-Law, and Father-in-Law — and numerous adopted parents who thought I was worth loving and investing in. I’m grateful for the love of a Godly man who welcomed me into his life and heart and made me his wife. I’m thankful for three sons, a daughter in heaven, and a daughter-in-love who are all amazing, gifted people. I’m grateful for nieces, nephews, aunts, uncles, and in-laws (and a few out-laws — smile). I’m grateful for work: store clerk. janitor, legal secretary, corporate writer, recreation director, day care worker, pastor, teacher, and now an insurance claims processor. I’m grateful for friends and former students and neighbors and houses and beds and clothes and shoes and dishwashers. And I’m blessed by so much more than just these things.

Most of all, I’m blessed by the journey to reach, to achieve, and to gain. Journeys teach us and help us to become who God has called us to be.

Five kernels in a small plastic jar — I have one in the living room, one in our office, one on my nightstand, and one on my desk at work.

You may wonder why they seem to be everywhere.

It’s because I never want to forget how far God has brought me . . . and I want to remember that I still have miles to go.

Hiding Behind A Mask

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A group of favorite Halloween costumes from 1997: Nate -- an Iowa Hawkeye football player; Phil -- a puppy; and Ben -- a fireman.
A group of favorite Halloween costumes from 1997: Nate — an Iowa Hawkeye football player; Phil — a puppy; and Ben — a fireman.

Well, it’s Halloween. I’m looking forward to what I hope will be an entourage of silly, scary, and strange creatures showing up on our porch tonight saying the words, “Trick or treat.” In fact, John has worked diligently to fix the electrical connection and replace the porch lights at our house so that trick-or-treaters would know that they were welcome and would come to our home.

You see, for the past 12 1/2 years we lived behind a church, out in the country in Colorado. We knew a family with adorable little boys and basically, they were the only ones who ever trick-or-treated at our house. Now we live in a city and I’m looking forward to kids knocking on the door again.

I have great memories of our boys and their Halloween costumes: boxers, a pumpkin, an Indian, a hockey player, a fireman, a pirate, a spider, a puppy, a football player — all of them were hand made except for one year when Ben wanted to be Steve Irwin and we bought a costume. Of course, even it had the “mom” touch when Ben had me hot glue plastic spiders all over it.

Their costumes had one thing in common — they never wore masks. We always used make up to create a look.

I know that many Christians don’t celebrate Halloween, and we don’t decorate for it or do anything beyond giving out candy. I guess one of the reasons we allowed our children to dress up and to get candy was because it allowed us to see faces we wouldn’t normally see. K-Love radio shared a thought this morning on their Facebook page that actually explained what and why we celebrated Halloween, “Halloween shouldn’t be feared. It’s the one night the world comes to your door. What an opportunity to be the Light on a dark night!”

It is true that what man has meant for evil, God can use for good. He can redeem anything — and anyone.

Even when it isn’t Halloween, there are many in this world who hide behind masks. The masks are many and varied. Some wear masks of anger, greed, or hatred. Others show humility, kindness, or caring. But if they are masks rather than the true character of a person, they are still false — even if they are positive in appearance.

It concerns me that so many people choose to present a false front to the world around them. God has called us to let our light shine. How can we do that if we hide behind an attitude or a behavior that does not reflect Him. Even if the behavior seems positive, if it doesn’t come from the heart, if it doesn’t show who we are — inside, deep in the core of our being, it is a false front, a mask.

When God comes into our life, He starts at the core of our being and begins to change us into the person He knows we can be — the person He made us to be. He strips away the mask and the bitterness, pride, hurt, loss, false-security, and the “stuff” that keeps us from experiencing Him in a real and personal way. Then He starts to build and create and make us into a new person — a new being. When He works in our lives, the masks in our lives become unnecessary because finally, we are who God has made us to be. Even then, He continues to shape and mold and lead and guide. As we live our lives, we become more and more like Him.

I remember watching THE JETSONS as a kid. Do you remember that show? They had video telephones — and to think, we now have Skype and Face Time! In one episode, Jane, the mother received a phone call early in the morning and she pulled out a mask, put it on, and took the call. (Why on earth do I remember that?) The caller did not know that Jane had just cleaned house, or crawled out of bed, or had the measles, or whatever it was that she was hiding — all they saw was the perfect Jane — the face that she presented to the world.

It’s time for us to stop presenting masks; it’s time for God to shine through us — time for the world to see Him as He transforms us into His image.

My mom always told me that my life may be the only Bible that some people will ever read. It’s time to take off the mask and let Him, His love, and His light show in my life. How about you?

Distance

On By mdannels3In Thinking about Family, Thinking about God, Thinking about RelationshipsLeave a comment
The detail in the close view -- near to where we are -- serves as a frame for the colors and layers that are in the distance. Each contributes to the beauty of the picture just as relationships -- distant and near -- add to our lives.
The detail in the close view — near to where we are — serves as a frame for the colors and layers that are in the distance. Each contributes to the beauty of the picture just as relationships — distant and near — add to our lives.

It was bound to happen. After all, we now live nearly 1000 miles from the place that was home for 12 1/2 years. I just didn’t expect it to happen so soon — and I didn’t expect it to make me so sad.

The distance has been magnified by circumstances. We’ve been in Wisconsin for nearly two months. In the past ten days, my dad (we use to live less than an hour away from him) had surgery, a dear friend’s son was in the hospital (I worked with his Mom), and our son became ill (we were 15 miles away). I’ve felt the distance — the literal distance — between us in profound ways. On the other hand, since we’ve been here, my father-in-law was hospitalized and our nephew-in-law became ill and is hospitalized. Granted, my second dad and our nephew are five hours away — but it isn’t 18 hours.

As a teenager I was told to bloom where I was planted. I’ve always tried to do just that. But really, what does that mean? Does it mean settling in and becoming a part of a community? Could it be working hard at the job you have and doing it to the best of your ability? Is it simply learning, as Paul said, “to be content in whatever situation wherein I find myself?”

Wherever we’ve lived we have “settled in” and made a life for ourselves, for our children, and we’ve ministered. We’ve interacted with communities. We’ve found jobs and worked hard to do them well; we’ve made friends and been involved in their lives. We’ve tried to show others who Jesus is. As we all do, we’ve loved people and we’ve been blessed to be loved by amazing, wonderful people.

When you move away from those special folks, it’s hard. Honestly, I make friends fairly easily. But it is still hard to be away from old friends, to be away from family members. And it is especially hard to be away from them when they are hurting.

Distance is difficult. It isn’t impossible to overcome, but it’s hard. In the world in which we live we are able to remain connected in so many more ways than ever before. I don’t “tweet” (I’m too verbose), but I do Facebook. I use Instagram, email, text, and of course I use the phone. Oh yeah, did I say that I blog? For the past seven weeks, we’ve been trying to communicate and stay in touch, but we didn’t have internet — we’re back on line and it’s just in time. The distance seems smaller for the simple reason that I can pick up my computer and check Facebook and email everyday once again.

I understand the concerns that people have about the overuse of technology — I have many of those same concerns. However, today, living 1000 miles away from Dad, Nate, and Carson, I’m thankful to be able to know what is going on in their lives.

Distance means we have to work harder to stay involved in each others lives. It means that the relationships are different — but they aren’t gone; they’re not lost.

As a fourth grade Girl Scout I sang a song that said, “Make new friends, but keep the old, one is silver and the other’s gold.” That’s where we are. We are living a great distance from many people we love and care for. Yet, there are amazing  “new” people that we’ve already learned to love and care for. They are silver; they are gold. They are treasures in our lives — distance or not, we treasure the gifts of the people that God has brought into our lives.

In fact, in spite of the distance — or perhaps because of it, I can join the Apostle Paul in saying these words to my friends and family who are everywhere from Alaska to Vietnam and all points in between:  “I thank my God every time I remember you. 4 In all my prayers for all of you, I always pray with joy 5 because of your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now,6 being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus. 7 It is right for me to feel this way about all of you, since I have you in my heart.” (Philippians 1:3-7a, NIV)