Thankful for Him

"All things denote there is a God; yea, even the earth, and all things that are upon the face of it, yea, and its motion, yea, and also all the planets which move in their regular form do witness that there is a Supreme Creator."

A week ago today, I heard the voice of God.

Rest eternal grant them,

Lord our God,

we pray to thee:

and light perpetual forever shine on them

It came to me in a concert hall, during a dress rehearsal for my chamber group.  Dancers, singers, orchestra, and soloists, had all prepared for weeks and months, and as I found, lifetimes for this night.  I hoped that it would be enough, hoped that the music would be done justice.

The orchestra was good!  My heart went out in gratitude to them for the countless hours of preparation they invested to master their instruments. The amount of time and talent and God-given goodness sitting in those chairs blew me away.  

Lord Jesus Christ, thou that rulest in majesty,

O free the souls of they faithful departed

out of the lion's jaw...

Grant them, Lord, 

Grant them deliverance from death unto life,

We pray thee, as of old thou has promised to our fathers

The vocal soloists were masterful, tender, fervent, and sweetly floated their voices fifty feet to the ceiling on their own power.  My heart soared with those voices in the praise of Him who made them.

Light perpetual shine upon them, shine upon them, Lord, we pray.

With all thy saints in endless glory, for thy tender mercy's sake

My favorite piece of the work, "Sanctus," features a violin obbligato of such tender sweetness, words completely fail.  Give it a listen:

I was overjoyed that the violinist did it absolute justice.  How could I be so lucky, to be sitting in a room with so much beauty, all devoted to the Master of the universe?  It was as if He was there in the harmony, there in the dance, there in the perfect sweetness of the violin and the voice.  It was as if He was showing me His greatness through all this beauty.  

Heaven and earth are full, 

Full of thy glory, O Lord.  

Hosanna in the highest!

Hosanna, indeed!  The God of creation has endowed this earth more beauty than can be seen, more loveliness than can be heard or felt.  He is in the taste of a perfect mango.  He is in the joy of a happy marriage.  He is in the great bodies of knowledge to be found in libraries all over the world.  He is in the majestic power of waves breaking on the shore.  He is in the works of masters like Gabriel Faure, and he is in the work of the musicians who work to bring it to life.

I am grateful for who He is.  I am grateful for what He has done for me.  I am grateful I can see and hear him when I'm looking and listening.  Not only is he the Great Creator, but he loves me enough to make himself known to me.  

2016 can die.

And don't tell me about the law of attraction, because this year was a disaster right out of the gate.  I gave it plenty of chances to reform itself, but it continues to break my heart.  Every couple of weeks brings a new crisis, and I've pretty much stopped fighting it.  2016 is a black-hearted villain.  This year our extended family has dealt with serious illness, abuse, loss of faith, addiction, betrayal and divorce, and depression.

Lately more than ever I have felt that my "adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour."  And I have had the deep grief of seeing him rip and tear at my family.  He is the master of chaos, filth, and despair, and he has surrounded me in a whirlwind of his finest work.  I have seen so much evil this year that I never wanted to know about, and sometimes it has threatened to extinguish my hope.

But you know what?  Bring it.

I am not afraid of the darkness anymore, because the darker it gets, the more Christ shines by contrast. All the ugliness and pain of this year have given me a clearer view of the One who has already conquered it all.

"The future of this world has long been declared; the final outcome between good and evil is already known.  There is absolutely no question as to who wins because the victory has already been posted on the scoreboard.  The only really strange thing in all of this is that we are still down here on the field trying to decide which team's jersey we want to wear!"  -Jeffrey R. Holland

I don't know Him as well as I someday will.  I have been showered with evidences of His love for me all my life.  But this year, when other helpers fail and comforts flee, I am amazed to find I believe in Him even more.  I don't see Him in the light, I see Him in the dark, fighting my battles and vanquishing my foes.  And the darker it gets, the more I marvel at his might.

Evil as the world is, He is that good.
Disloyal as the world is, He is that faithful.
Brutal as the world is, He is that tender.
Selfish as the world is, He is that generous.
Hurtful as the world is, He is that healing.

The louder the lion roars, and the more power he displays, the more I glory that my Lord has already defeated him.  Christ must be pretty amazing if he has already conquered 2016 for me.  I praise Him.

To the Healers

Ahem.  After that last post, I feel a little bit exposed, and feel the need to crack some jokes or maybe do a little soft-shoe.  But I know you're not here to read about some mythical perfect person, so again I say, thanks for reading, warts and all.

This week, I'm hugely relieved to say, has been progressively better.  Every day, the kids and I get more into our new routine and as stress levels go down, my mood improves.  But mostly I must give credit where it's due.  I know my loved ones have been praying for me, and my Father in Heaven has showered me with blessings.  So, status report on Woman of the House reads Normal this week. Hallelujah.

One of our family members (who shall remain nameless) required a trip to the E.R. last night, and there we stayed until 2 AM.  Flu-like symptoms were seeming less and less flu-like as the week wore on, and a chat with a our family nurse raised the specter of bleeding ulcers due to stress, diet, or (cue horrific music here) cancer.  I felt dangerously close to tears on the way to the hospital because of the C-word and a lifetime of premonitions that something like this would happen to me or someone I loved.

I'm happy to report that all these lugubrious possibilities were dispelled with a few simple--though tediously time-consuming--tests, and we were sent home with a prescription for nausea pills and a new perspective on life.  I'm also happy to report that at no point did I break down and cry.

We joked a lot about the dissimilarities between the ER of reality and that of the TV drama I used to love.  None of the doctors or nurses seemed unusually good-looking.  George Clooney was nowhere in sight.  And if he had been, I suspect he would have been bored.  There were no loud alarms indicating impending death, no paramedics bursting on the scene with gunshot victims, no heated arguments or passionate proposals between the staff.  And as our five hours there will attest, there was no sense of urgency, although once I did see a nurse running, and that made me feel better.

Still, it was real enough for me.  What is it about a trip to the Emergency Room that instantly snaps life into perspective?  I experienced such basic human desires and feelings while I was there.  Need. Helplessness.  Fear. Humility.  And above all, I felt a surge of gratitude toward the brave and patient men and women who work there, day in and day out.

Healers remind me of Jesus Christ.  They take all of humanity, regardless of virtue, status, and even ability to pay--take us at all hours of the day and night--see past our collective ugliness, addiction, and general pitiful state--and they do everything they can to help.  They dig deep, calling not only upon their knowledge and experience, but on their compassion, their humor, and their love.

I said thank you to each individual that took part in the parade through our hospital room last night, but I know that many healers work out of their homes or even just in their families.  If you are one of this noble race, I just want to say: you're amazing.  Thanks for being such an inspiration and a help. You truly make this world a better place.      

Morning Gratitude

I'm on my knees in the dark of the morning, trying to squeeze in a morning prayer before the boys find me.  I can hear that Isaiah is waking up sad, and needs either a banana or a hug from me.  His cries come closer to the bedroom door, and soon his pitiful wail accompanies his tiny-fisted knocking.  I crawl to the door and meet his eyes.  I can't resist a hug and kiss, but then I am firm:  "Isaiah, I need to pray.  Go get a banana and I'll be in in a minute."  He is reluctant, and here comes Paul in his wake.  Maybe my prayer will have to wait. But Paul puts an arm around his little brother, with and says with tenderness and older-brother wisdom, "Isaiah, come with me and I'll get you a banana.  Mama needs to pray."  Isaiah lets Paul lead him back down the hall toward the kitchen, his arm still draped over his shoulder.  And I kneel again by the bedside and start with gratitude for loving brothers.