Two months.

Two months doesn't seem like much time. Only eight weeks; just 60 days. And as I get older, the months pass without so much as a wave hello or goodbye. Summers were long and luxurious when I was a kid. Now, I blink and seasons have passed.

But not these last two months. No. I have felt the full 1,440 hours of these two months. Not each hour bad. Certainly not all of them good. But it seems as if every hour has meant something. And somehow, these two months feel like they may have been a decade in and of themselves.

Today marks two months since my Grandmother slipped away to spend all eternity with her Forever Love. And today, that moment is as fresh in my heart as it can possibly be, regardless of each hour that has passed in between.

I sat this week and listened to the words she wanted all her family to hear and believe about her walk through cancer. Words she recorded just seven days before she passed away. She told us she, "found out His Word is true. He will keep me. I have no fear. He will carry me through this end." How gracious is our God? And what a treasure to have these words, these memories, to keep and to cherish. They sometimes cause phantom pains; where that which you ache over feels present, but it is gone.

I have wondered why our Christian world seems so uncomfortable with "death". We much prefer, "went home to be with Jesus", "passed away", "graduated to Heaven", "promoted to glory". As if our faith will be shaken because something "bad" has happened so we endeavor to make it sound as "good" as possible.

While all of these things may have happened for my grandmother, before she experienced that, there was a very real, finite moment. A moment when she died. Death is swallowed up by life in Christ. Death is a whole new birth. But death is. It is. It may be a gateway - but it is.

I sat with my sister just before Gramma passed. As she struggled so for breath and the minutes felt like days, I told Lisa it felt like labor before childbirth. Like we were in the delivery room suffering through the hardest part before new life could be embraced. She labored and struggled and then, release came. And with it, life.

But it doesn't negate the pain. And while I'm sure that pain is such a distant memory for my grandmother, it isn't for me. I didn't "graduate", or get "promoted" to Heaven. For me...she died. She is gone. For me, she is no more. Not right now.

"Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints." Because it means "together". It means no longer do we imagine Him and all the expressions on His face. Or what it might feel like for Him to embrace us. That death is as precious for Him as the moment of birth is for us. We've imagined this child. We feel so close to them as they grow in the womb. But then...finally...we see them. Our arms hold them. Our hands wipe their tears. We are "together".

My grandmother has been experiencing that togetherness. But the rest of us "groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies" (Romans 8:23). This is why the Spirit intercedes for us. We cannot even express the depth of our longing to be close to Jesus. We groan. We wait eagerly. We experience pain as we are separated from loved ones. We have pangs of hunger and desperation as we await our Hope.

But we have this Hope. And, today, I'm grateful I don't have to grieve without Him. I tell Him all I know how and, beyond that, the Spirit within me makes my heart known. And, soon, I will see Him.

But not yet. Now, there is much to be done...

I Feel it in the Atmosphere...

God does such profound things in our lives. I'm grateful for constant evidence of His leadership of and involvement in my journey. In these past few weeks, it feels like everything has shifted. Ever have a moment like that? It's like you wake up and somehow, you've got new eyes. You're looking at the very same things but seeing things you never noticed before...

That "shift" is part of the deal when we surrender our lives to Jesus. As the "Author" of your faith, He's takes creative liberty to throw twists and turns in the story whenever He sees fit. Such an incredible adventure! Any other path must be so very dull.

I really believe that being sensitive to even the smallest tweaks and turns from the Holy Spirit is an irreplaceable part of Christian living. Those "small" adjustments can have immense implications, just a the slight shift of the rudder on a boat can change its course entirely.

Part of the shift right now for me is simply a new level of surrender. Maybe a little more than a year ago, Molly Buccafurni shared the letter below with our congregation. Such truth in these words. Heavy truth; but truth that has come back up in my heart these past few weeks as I've asked, "What am I really willing to do?"

If God is speaking to you about small changes (or even big ones) take courage, friend! Step out! He will not leave you without support!

THE HIGH CALLING

If God has called you to be really like Jesus in all your spirit, He will draw you into a life of crucifixion and humility, and put on you such demands of obedience, that He will not allow you to follow other Christians, and in many ways He will seem to let other good people do things which He will not let you do.

Other Christians and ministers who seem very religious and useful may push themselves, pull wires, and work schemes to carry out their plans, but you cannot do it; and if you attempt it, you will meet with such failure and rebuke from the Lord as to make you sorely penitent.

Others can brag on themselves, on their work, on their success, on their writing, but the Holy Spirit will not allow you to do any such thing, and if you begin it, He will lead you into some deep mortification that will make you despise all your good works.

Others will be allowed to succeed in making great sums of money, or having a legacy left to them or in having luxuries, but God may supply you daily, because he wants you to have something far better than gold, and that is a helpless dependence on Him, that He may have the privilege of providing your needs day by day out of the unseen treasury.

The Lord may let others be honored and put forward, and keep you hid away in obscurity, because He wants to produce some choice fragrant fruit for His coming glory, which can only be produced in the shade.

God will let others be great, but keep you small. He will let others do a work for Him, and get the credit for it, but he will make you work and toil on without knowing how much you are doing; and then, to make your work still more precious, He will let others get the credit for the work which you have done, and this will make your reward ten times greater when Jesus comes.

The Holy Spirit will put a strict watch on you, with a jealous love, and will rebuke you for little words or feelings or for wasting your time, which other Christians never seem distressed over. So make up your mind that God is an infinite Sovereign, and has a right to do as he pleases with his own, and He will not explain to you a thousand things which may puzzle your reason in His dealings with you.

God will take you at your word; and if you absolutely sell yourself to be His slave, He will wrap you up in a jealous love and let other people say and do many things that you cannot do or say.

Settle it forever, that you are to deal directly with the Holy Spirit, and that He is to have the privilege of tying your tongue, or chaining your hand, or closing your eyes, in ways that others are not dealt with.

Now, when you are so possessed with the living God that you are, in your secret heart, pleased and delighted over this peculiar, personal, private, jealous guardianship and management of the Holy Spirit over your life, you will have found the vestibule of Heaven.

No matter what scales we use, we can never know the weight of another person’s burdens.

Given to Molly Buccafurni by a missionary – 1986.

"Feel Good" File

By the very wise admonition of a former boss, Pastor Chris Daniel, I keep a file in my desk at work that's called my "Feel Good" file. It's full of notes, cards, pictures, sermon notes that inspired me...whatever might be a pick-me-up for a rough day/week/month...year. Yesterday it was imperative - I had to bust out the feel good file. It'd been months since I perused it, which always makes for great surprises and warm tinglies.

I found childhood pictures. Notes from old college friends. Birthday cards. Quotes that re-inspired me. It was a good moment. And it reminded me how very important a little encouragement can be.

None of these little notes had a check for a thousand dollars in it. None of them came with a gift. They weren't flashy or neon or unforgettable. In fact, most of them I had forgotten about. Encouragement is a lot like that. Easy to forget. Even the greatest moments of comfort and encouragement from the Lord can be washed away by troubles if we allow it.

Words have always been so important to me. I forget birthday gifts. But the cards? I'll keep forever and read over and over and over. So I've made it a habit to keep words of encouragement and comfort before me. In my home, on my desk, through the music in my car. And, in moments like these past few weeks, those words from God and from others, have made ALL the difference.

Want to encourage somebody? Do it! Whatever it is may sound insignificant in the moment, but the "feel good" file (whether mental or literal) can be referenced in the most necessary of times.

Thank you to my "Barnabas" friends...

"I don't know what to do."

I recently perused the book "Eat, Pray, Love" and Liz Gilbert's straight-talk in the memoir was moving. I am a firm believer that anyone who is honest and sincere in their search for God deserves our attention. And Liz represents thousands of people seeking God and, instead, finding "god" or "Buddha" or "Allah" or "themselves".

A portion of the beginning of her story really affected me. She writes about being in the middle of a difficult situation and she finds herself on the bathroom floor, sobbing, when she decides to pray. "God, I don't know what to do. Tell me what to do. I'll do it. Please. Just tell me what to do..." and then, she listens.

She really didn't know to Whom she was speaking. But her rock-bottom transparency and honesty are a hallmark of real searching. And she heard an answer; though I believe she attributed it to the wrong person. But discrepancies aside, this part of her story felt far too familiar for me to ignore.

As a believer in Christ, I find myself quite often in a puddle of my own tears saying, "God, I don't know what to do. Please. Tell me what to do. Please, tell me what to do." And He is faithful to lead me. Even if I simply walk forward quietly and blindly, just following His whisper.

The key is, I must come to Him and admit that I don't know what to do. When I've pressed on every door. Tried to pry open every window. Pounded on every wall for a soft spot that I could possibly break through. And...nothing. I glance around the room half a dozen more times. "Perhaps the solution is right in front of me and I'm missing it." But, nothing. So finally, my hands drop to my side and I look up..."I don't know what to do..."

When I was in elementary school, a teacher sent a note home with me for my parents. This was never to tell them you were bright or exceptional or something else favorable. And I was nervous. I had never brought one of these home before! I racked my brain; what had I done?! Did I talk too much? Not work quickly enough? Didn't pay attention to some rule?

I got home and handed the note to my mom. "What's it say mom? What did I do?" "Well, Amanda. It says, "Amanda needs to learn to ask for help when she finds a problem she can't solve. She refuses to ask for help"."

I'm not going to say that note changed my life. I'll still carry a dozen Wal Mart bags up to my apartment by myself. I'll still take care of myself when I'm sick. I'll still find my own solutions before I consult anyone. Before I consult...Anyone.

I remember a lady showing up at my Gramma's door a few days after she'd gone to be with Jesus. She talked about having come to Gramma's house because she, "didn't know what to do. I didn't know where to go. My mom said, 'Just go see Ora Mae,' and so I came to see Ora Mae." She had knocked on the door with confidence that this lady could do something about her situation. Maybe she pictured Mrs. Clause. Or some fairy godmother doling out the goods. Or maybe just a sympathetic and kind woman who would find some way to help her. Whatever the case, she felt like an answer was behind the door.

Bottom line? This woman had more faith that a total stranger could help her than I sometimes have that God can help me. She got desperate and, "being a burden" or "admitting helplessness" weren't obstacles for her any longer.

That's how I knock on the door today. Today, I just sit and whisper, "Jesus, I don't know what to do", and wait...

commitment crisis.

So...remember a few weeks back when I said I was going to start raising questions? And some of these questions might be a little uncomfortable or seem combative? (Well, if I left out that last part, I'm saying it now.) I've been asking this question for a long time...

"What is the deal with those in the 18-30 age range and commitment?"

Now look, before I launch into this let me say that I do believe I work with some incredible young adults. And, I do believe that most of them are ahead of the pack and shouldn't be lumped in with a 'culture of convenience'. They work full-time jobs. Or they're full-time students. And they find time to serve at this church one or five nights a week. They lead small groups. Lead worship. Lead youth. Lead events. And they're like the sunset - consistent.

However, I have been alarmed by the trends of church-hopping and consumeristic worship among this age group. If "I don't get something out of it, it's not for me". I am relieved to find that many people are becoming aware of the crisis of commitment. Those responsible, self-motivated, handle-my-own-life sort of young adults are a minority right now. And they live in a culture that bathes them in consumerism, individualism and entitlement. One student, when asked what church he attended, said, "I attend church in my bedroom. I put on worship music and sing along to that and then I listen to a podcast sermon." Couldn't be more contradictory to what the Biblical Church should be.

Many are avoiding life decisions using perpetual schooling or "learning" experiences: "I don't know what I want to do with my life so I think I'll travel for a while." "I can't pay rent until I find a job I really, really like. I'll just stay with mom and dad." "I can't decide I want to marry you until I know our relationship will be fool-proof. Let's just move in together for a while."

(Disclaimer: there's nothing wrong with travel. Or education. Or multi-generational homes. Relax...)

Young adults are crazy about community. They love being together and they yearn for closeness and partners for their life journey. But so many fail to realize community cannot really exist apart from commitment. And neither can true intimacy or fulfillment in relationships.

So how do we teach faithfulness and commitment in a culture where both are unnecessary and cumbersome? The Church has always been God's channel of hope, power and truth to the world. And she has stood counter-culturally through the ages. But how does she teach truth and lead people toward Jesus when they're too busy (or self-focused) to really hear any message?

Adventures in Leftovers...

Yesterday was a great day. Until...it became a very, very bad day. If you've ever had food poisoning, you know it's a bad day like none other.

Every once in a while in our office, we do our best to be good stewards by packing lunches and bringing leftovers (often, our lives are too "on the fly" to be so prepared :). But yesterday was one of those days. We had leftover turkey from an event on Friday and so Pastor Sheri, Kristin and I decided we'd make some sandwiches and have a quick lunch together in the church kitchen. Great idea...for a moment.

We finished lunch and later, I headed to the polls to cast my vote (and ensure job security - but that's for another blog). When I returned, I found my generally poised and prepared "Pastorette" slumped in her office chair and holding her stomach. It was clear things were not going her way (refer to the link above for her account of the day). I started grabbing things off her desk and stuffing them in her briefcase between, "No...I have too much to do..." and "I think that may have been the last of it...".

We managed to get her to the car but she insisted on driving herself (Pastor Frank was working the polls and I would be the only office personnel; someone had to get some work done around here!) A while (what felt like a very loooong while) later, she arrived home and let me know she was safely embracing her very own porcelain friend.

I called Kristin, "Hey, I know you have a dentist appointment. But you may want to nix that and head home. Your mom's like, super sick and I can't leave the office."

"Oh no! Ok, going home now. I'll call her on my way."

I went back to my desk, trying to get a a mailout to the box before 4. "Eww," I thought, "I'm pretty queasy..." But I dismissed it as sympathy sickness and kept working. Eyes watering, stomach groaning and pain mounting, "This is serious sympathy sickness". Until, I was propelled out of my office chair and food poisoning was confirmed. I tried to finish what I could between episodes and finally called Kristin and said, "Girl. You better get ready. I'm sick now too...and this stuff is violent..."

"Nooo....I thought I didn't feel good but I'm trying to just breathe..." Kristin said. I could hear the dread in her voice.

I drove myself home, barely making it up my stairs and in the door. I created my own "yuck-bucket" and got myself to bed where the violence continued. I text Kristin, "Are you still ok?" "No," she answered, "I'm on the side of the road but Dad's here." Awesome. All three of us. Sick, in various locations.

I laid in my bed and felt, with each experience, that my ribs might crack or maybe my eyes would burst out of their sockets. And then, a knock came on my door. Meagan, my frister and Pastor's youngest daughter, said, "Come on. Dad said to bring you to the house with mom and Kristin." It was a looooong drive. But at least now I was in good company.

We spent our evening together, sprawled from one end of the house to the other with Pastor Frank and Meagan changing out buckets and helping us from bathroom to couch. The house was relatively silent between groans and other sounds (of which I'll spare you description). It was a great time of bonding. I'm hoping we scrapbook it sometime.

Today, we're achy and sore but not running to the bathroom...so I think we're all pretty grateful for that fact. And...I'm hungry.

Back to "Reality"

One of my very favorite things about blogging is that it gives a space to be more honest than you might in face-to-face communication. When I try to have these sort of conversations (like I'm about to have with you) in person, there are a very few people that I don't feel I've accosted and they would almost rather hear anything else!

But you, friends, take initiative to find this page and then, furthermore, take time to read it! A blessing beyond my imagination! And that is something that makes me comfortable to tell you how I really feel. I'm telling you how I feel today 1) as a method of catharsis 2) because it helps us know one another (even if we've never met) and 3) in the hopes that something I say may benefit you in your own personal journey.

Today is Wednesday. Twenty-one days ago at this time was a very hard day. For some reason, each step since then has grown more difficult and more burdened - a scenario I did not expect after hearing all the "time heals all wounds" talk.

Here I am, back in my reality, but being "present" feels more impossible than roping in the moon. Last week, as my plane took off from Phoenix International, my heart was more overwhelmed than perhaps ever before. It was the most final moment of this whole process for me. The realization that I will never fly back into the desert and see my grandmother.

Arizona has always meant "Gramma Ora" to me. And, with my family living there, I'll visit quite frequently. Which I am happy to do. But each visit from that moment of departure will be very, very different. That knowledge overtook me as the engined revved and there was no turning back: no more sitting in her room for a while, no more touching the things on her dresser, no more being in her "space" even with her gone. No, this was the real "goodbye". (I'm sure the girl in the seat beside me wondered if I had severe anxiety issues about flying when I broke out sobbing.)

God's presence is the sweetest gift I could ever ask for. C.S. Lewis said of the death of his wife that her absence was "like the sky, spread all over everything". And, while that rings so true for me right now, I am walking through "everything" with my hand in His. And I'm so thankful He understands every, little bit. Every fleeting thought, every memory, every sadness for what was and even for what was not. All of it.

We got a letter from a precious family friend who reminded us of how well Gramma always listened. He'd call her and say, "Got time for dinner?" And she'd meet him and listen to whatever he needed to say. We're all going to miss that so much...

Thanks for "listening"...