There once was a generation

Jay will be getting out of the hospital on Tuesday after 23 days. The man (who always speaks of himself in third person) has spoken, "Jay is ready to go home."  We are ready for Jay to go home.  The other night - one of the hundred nurses who has just fallen in love with his compliant, over-greatful, not-quite-demanding-enough personality, offered to take him home with her.  I about jumped over the counter to strangle her.  'Cause you see 3 weeks ago I thought we had lost him.  And I guess - maybe I'm still a BIT touchy about losing him.

You see my parents did something right 32 years ago when they invited him into our family.  They invited the embodiment of consistency into our home.  For the week that Jay was on the ventilator and could not breath I could eerily hear his voice whisper to me - his pat phrases - his life long quotes of confidence.  Jarod said one night that when he spoke to Jay he could imagine his responses perfectly.  Dad just said that Jay was his best friend.  And I just kept thinking over and over again of the prayer he repeats - morning, noon and night, "Thank you for this good morning we're havin' - everyone of us - everyone of us - thank you for this good mornin'."  At dinner.

My life - no matter the twists and turns has been blessed with the constant optimism and good will of Jay.  When he had been moved to the second floor surgical unit and we had various people sit with him on a rotating 24/7 schedule - he would often comment to the outgoing friend, "You had a good time with me here. We had a good time."  Yep - check those vitals, change that ostomy,  hear that dangerous wheezing for breath, unkink the tubes.  Thanks for that great time we've been havin' Jay.  And in Rehab "I'm gettin' better - you know Jay's gettin' better. Stronger."  Putting forth more effort and willingness than any nurse has ever seen to overcome his new limitation, and demonstrating a surprising level of comfort with awkward things like new CNA's spilling the ostomy bag all over him.  And why am I surprised?  His whole life has been filled with gracefully overcoming obstacles and adjusting to the limits pressed upon him.  He was made by God to overcome insurmountable odds with grace and humility.  He was meant to show us the way.

...
So I was at a meeting the other day and they were all talking about the overall "aging population" of the DD community (people like Jay).  And they had their theories on why.  And I have mine.  But there are factually fewer people like Jay in the world.  In the 1980's they were released from institutions into our communities. Now there are just fewer.  In effect our society got one generation of Jays.  There are not enough of him to go around.  Not enough of his humor. Not enough of his consistency.  Not enough of his genuine gratitiude for each morning ... that lasts all day. Not enough of his generosity and his innocence.   Some people will give you the shirt off their back - but Jay will give you much more.  Once when we had been camping for three days Jay asked my cousin if he could borrow his toothbrush.  My cousin and I couldn't stop laughing because - "why would someone ask such a thing?"  The answer is simple:  Jay would have loaned his to anyone - had he remember to bring one.

Jay will give us more than a toothbrush in the coming months - he will give us grace as we move from fellow farmers into the role of nurse.  He will give us humor as we fail at that role again and again.  He will give us insight as he more than "manages"  - just like he has his whole life. And I can't wait to bring him HOME.

Thoughts on Grandma

Psalm 116:15-16

Precious in the sight of the Lord

is the death of his faithful servants.

Truly I am your servant, Lord;

I serve you just as my mother did;

you have freed me from my chains.

I guess when someone lives to be 97 they naturally become larger than life. Their fingerprints manage to work their way all over every house and article owned by a family. Somehow though, I think Grandma Stafford may have started larger than life. Somehow, I believe had her life been only this last decade, not all 97 years – she would have changed us each forever. I have thought much and written much about my Grandmother over the years. The self-educated woman - “from the cotton patch – to the pentagon”- the source of our entire family's sustenance (whether she was feeding us, financing us, advising us or disciplining us).

But this morning... on the morning where she FINALLY left us to be with Jesus... I want to record what she has given to me in the past decade. The years after grandpa. The years since we knew something was wrong because she ate all 5 quarts of Jarod's fudge in one night.... because - let's face it – if every piece seems like your first – “Why not?” Alzheimer is a terrible disease. And though she ate plenty of peanut M&M's and fudge for her reward of a life well lived... it is not the slow and horrifying way anyone would choose to go.

So why was she here this last decade? Moving from house to house. Walking my Aunt through cancer, Paul back to Kansas, my parents through transitions, me through the first years of motherhood, living in each of our homes, surviving surgery after surgery, and then finally living the day-in-day-out at a nursing home – locked in her own little world? Why did she repeat story after story to caretaker after caretaker until we thought we couldn't listen to the story one more time? And then, just like the seasons of the year pass, with a favorite fruit that you have eaten to much of... it is gone. But unlike the season of the year... each story was never to return... and somehow – beyond all fathoming – I couldn't remember it word for word like I swore I could. And I would wish for each story back so I could REALLY LISTEN.

But there was only silence. Listening to the last years of silence from her. The woman who after school would drill me on what I had learned and lecture me on what I hadn't. She had no more words for me. But she didn't leave me. Sometimes when I would be feeding her one side and Lucy on the other - she would reach for a spoon and try to feed me. Until the end – she would sometimes try to feed me. These last years she has physically lived the reality that I don't really want to face, but yet through her I have come to love and accept.

In life, no matter how we want to impact the lives of others, in the end – all we can really do is BE THERE for one another. Often in silence. Watching one another muddle through our own battles and lessons. James 4 says, “Now listen, you who say, “Today or tomorrow we will go to this or that city, spend a year there, carry on business and make money.” Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes. Instead, you ought to say, “If it is the Lord’s will, we will live and do this or that.” In the end, after the example has been set and the advice has been dispensed and the goal has been established, we just get carried along by the quick vapor of life together saying... “as the Lord wills”. Or in my language, “I didn't see that one coming.” So – grandma and I were just there for one another. In the end, neither of us really having anything to offer the other – at all. Both of us learning that THAT was truly ok. It was the final lesson she had to teach me... and I hope I really listened.

Grandma... I am sorry it took me so long to listen in the silence. I'm sorry it became the joke among us all that you would “Never die.” But the truth is … you will NEVER die. For you will always BE with Him in glory. Thank you for learning to BE, here with me, on earth. I will TRULY, TRULY miss you.

Until we meet again...

P.S.  Grandma... I am not going to spend much time this week on funeral plans... I am going to work on getting all the money to the kids in Honduras for their schooling.  I know you are good with that.  Thanks for changing ALL our lives.

Good Friday

Well. 

 I had different plans for this week. 

 For this beautiful 80 degree weather... these days before a big beautiful Baptism of our children and a nice Easter Celebration with everyone we love. But with Lucy and now Jude running a constant fever – the plans for the week changed... and the weekend is looking a little bleak. I woke up this morning after another short up-and-down night of sleep and my devotional read, “Jesus, you are doing it all wrong.” I laughed. Because it just seems so stupid when you say it like that. But my moments of worry, frustration and confusion over little things like a worrisome long-lasting flu virus and changes in plans are nothing less than a rejection of how God is choosing to work in our daily lives. Like a senseless child banging on pots and pans - I take issue with His masterful orchestration of symphony of the universe.

But how it must have felt for the disciples that day – to look upon the One they followed as King – the One they expected to right all wrong – to overcome all injustice and evil. To hear Him say, “It is finished” and give up His last breath. This was not their plan and they saw no beauty here – only death and hopelessness. Hopelessness caused by the One they had placed all of their hopes in. And their thoughts as they looked on in disbelief... perhaps only fuzzily formed like my own, surely must have encompassed:

“Jesus, this is not a good plan.”

“Jesus, this is not how it is supposed to go down.”

“REALLY?..... REALLY?”

“So... this was all a WASTE?”

“Now what?”

“Jesus, you are doing it all wrong.”

“This... this is a VERY BAD Friday.”

And so today, as I sit with my measly little problem – sure to be resolved by Monday... I think of all those I love who sit at the foot of the cross each day. Those who have lost loved ones, suffer painful broken relationships, lost jobs, dashed dreams, chronic illnesses, ministries short on finances or careers short on purpose: my friends who have reason to believe that Jesus is doing it all wrong. And I want to say: this is not the first time it has looked that way. Not the first time it has looked that way to those who love Him dearly and follow Him faithfully.

But if Easter is true... if Sunday has come and the Resurrection is sure – then all the World is to be righted through darkest day, and the light of hope is only possible on the other side of Jesus' “worst idea.” As my friend said the other night, “Well, WHATEVER else does or doesn't happen... there was still that ONE Miracle.” That's the point of Easter. Because of Easter we believe any miracle is possible. But because of Easter we believe no more our necessary. If we believe there was ONE Good Friday – we believe that ALL days are Good in Him. However "all wrong" it looks.

Blessed Good Friday

I am praying for you

Philippians 4:7-11

But whatever were gains to me I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them garbage, that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ—the righteousness that comes from God on the basis of faith. I want to know Christ—yes, to know the power of his resurrection and participation in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, and so, somehow, attaining to the resurrection from the dead.

goodbye 4,685 photos

So what does one do stuck in a house with sick kids for a week?

Apparently delete 4,685 unneeded photos and videos from our computer.  It was cheaper than buying a new computer and now I have space to download my measly 350 photos off my phone.  I guess... I have moved away from OVER capturing the moment.

But here are the moments I have captured in no particular order:

So here is the winter view from my bedroom window.  I love this view... even if we are all getting a little anxious for spring.

We found 7 old mental chairs badly in need of welding and painting stuffed away in the shop.  It made for a nice winter project and a very fun front porch.

I noticed that a large portion of my pictures are old junk we are trying to sell on on-line classifieds.  Old Pin Ball Machine. Any takers?

My friend Kate and her sweet girls came for a short visit... after Lu's illness kept us from our trip to Denver.  I love these ladies!!

Again.... why am I tired of winter when it brings sights like this?

The girl's had their ballet recital.  Sometimes I wish my daughter wasn't so little and cute because she gets away with murder.  Notice - smallest child - one step ahead :)

So - this photo from mom's birthday cracked me up.  She has A LOT of random men in her life.

Our Spring Break trip to California to visit Allen and the Bernard family was AMAZING - with friends old and new!!

And now - we are sick - and getting our blood drawn

And - we have a duck. two ducks.

And they built a Pergola in Joan and Bob's back yard...

before it snowed AGAIN.

And that's what I've got. More is less. Goodbye 4,685 photos... I still get the picture.

Dear Someday Self

Dear Someday Self,

This season of life is full.  Too full for blogging.  That's ok.
And whatever season of life you find yourself in. That's ok too.
Even if you have NOTHING to do.  It balances out.

If you have a million close friends.  That's awesome.
Because there was a season when you felt very alone.
If you don't have any friends. That's ok too.
Because once upon a season you learned that Jesus was enough.

If your children are amazingly content with life and living their full potential.
AWESOME. It was worth it.
But don't get cocky - 'cause you know it was grace...
There was a season of every morning melt-downs and knock-down-drag-outs just to eat breakfast
All before breakfast.  Everyday.
That's THIS season... and it isn't my favorite.
If your children are still a mess... keep praying and loving (and I'll throw out any more tips if I have'm).

Dear Someday-self
I'm pretty sure your marriage rocks.  Because well... once upon a time God gave you a good guy
And good guys CAN'T run away.
And I chuckle about that.  I hope you still chuckle about that.
What a blessing.  Treat him well for me... He's been through a lot.

And someday self
I don't know if your house is still full of people and all the men are still alive
but if you sit alone - be happy - because you spent a lot of good time with a lot of amazing people
If your house is still full and the men are still alive...
Go in a room and sit alone for a bit - because you spend a lot of good time with a lot of amazing people
BUT they are still people
You know what I mean.

Someday self
Maybe you are reading this 1 month from now or 30 years
Either way - your parents and Jarod's parents could be gone
I hope that the seasons from here to there were an ever growing -
exponential recognition of how amazing they all are
and I hope that somewhere between here and there you had a chance to let them know

And finally, Someday self
Whatever the house of your life looks like  -
Please remember this,
Proverbs 14:1 says, "The wise woman builds her house."
So, that was kind of the plan. For the hours. The days. The seasons.
Build a good house.
But Psalm 127:1 says,
"Unless the LORD builds the house, the builders labor in vain."
He has his own plan...

Please let me know how it turns out.  Some days my faith is pretty wobbly.

And yet, "Jesus please build this house..."

The Blue Horse:

Bare with me.

On Wednesday night I have the greatest group of prayer partners. They are all under 10 years old. I often have to explain what we are praying for and we do a lot of jumping, yelling and laughing during our prayers. They NEVER pray about stuff they don't care about. They don't care if they should care about it or if I have told them to pray about it 10 times. They always pray what they do care about – even if each other child has prayed for it. TWICE. They go ahead and cover it again. Cat health over presidential elections. This last Wednesday night I mentioned that a friend of mine was having trouble with schizophrenia and he really needed our prayers. Blank stares. Quick definition pulled out of my ear: When your brain tells you horrible lies again and again and you can't make it stop – like “nobody loves you, your life is terrible, people want to hurt you, God can't forgive you, and you should just die.” This prayer request got covered TWICE by EVERYBODY in our little circle. This is serious business – you know – when your brain gets out of control like that.

So last night our family was reviewing our verse for this year, “Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.” Phil 4:8.

Jarod pulled out the command: Do NOT think about a blue horse. Immediately Jude began to giggle. Then Jarod said it again and Jude got very serious for three seconds and then began to giggle. Jarod asked what he was thinking about and Jude totally shocked said, “A blue horse. I CAN'T stop thinking about it.” Three minutes this went on – him trying to control his mind as Jarod told him to STOP thinking about it. Our 7 year old came to the stark realization that you can not focus on NOT focusing on something and was a ASTONISHED by this truth. Few moments are as rewarding in parenthood as when you see your small child grasp a large truth. We began to focus on thinking about a sunset (all-be-it a blue horse galloped across it at first.)

February 2011 Andrea challenged me to write down 1000 things I was grateful for. I finished this morning. It shouldn't have taken 2 years. (Especially since I wrote the last 46 this morning in 12 minutes.) But you see... I spend a lot of time listening to the blue horses in my head and then focusing on NOT thinking about the blue horses. I forget to focus on the fullness of the sunset – I forget the truths – I forget to take time to count. I'm a little spiritually mentally ill. A little bit of a child. I am thankful that the mentally ill and the children are willing to teach me. These things need double prayer to heal. SO I'll keep counting...

P.S. Jessice Poundstone – the big black blank book gifted to me over 8 years ago. It is full. Thank you for having faith that God would fill my life with thoughts for that great blankness that sat in front of me. 

It Takes a Bucket of Salt

So a modern virtue – only to be rivaled in popularity by tolerance – is diversity. This week FHSU will have it's annual “Celebration of Diversity” - which in actuality is nothing more than Chinese New Year celebrated on the High Plains. Now don't get me wrong, I love this celebration and I love that Hays now has Chinese people to put it together – it's all very marvelous.

However, I think if we re going to tout “diversity” as a virtue, we need to recognize the degrees of diversity which may or may not exist in our lives. Going to a Celebration of Diversity is embracing diversity about as much as a 3^rd grader passing out an “I love you” sweet-tart is exemplifying love. Eating Sushi and Gumbo do not make us cultured individuals anymore than a mouse in a cookie jar makes him a cookie. Same goes for loving “cute little African babies” or marching for some under-served, marginalized, or neglected group of persons. Marching is good. Also I love babies with wacky hair – of all races.

However, I have been thinking so much lately about how these warm-fuzzy-feeling demonstrations of our “diversity” virtue may be a nice cover up for the true virtue that is much more difficult to embrace.

Because here is the thing. Actually adhering to a virtue – I find – seldom makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside. Mostly it makes me cry. Mostly, I am CHANGED by the virtue to which I adhere... (adhere – like glue – like stick myself to it and then hold on for the ride.) I think God is all about diversity because it HUMBLES us. (Well, that and because He talks about it a lot in the Bible – in ways that make people feel REALLY uncomfortable.) Other people may be changed by marches, donations to causes, demonstrations of culture, etc, etc. But I am changed when I asked people VERY different from me INTO my life. Like to participate with me in education, work, family, and cooking. Really – especially with cooking – and recycling – and grocery shopping. It gets tricky.

Because people who are DIFFERENT from us DO things DIFFERENT – THAN us. It's profound. I know. And when they spend their money or time differently than everyone else we know (including ourselves) it removes a blind spot – it removes a, “That's how it's always been done.” And eventually – all these blind spots are opened and you experience disequilibrium because all this time you thought there was only one way to eat a grape and one way to use the restroom. But then you find out you are wrong. And then you cry. And then those other people who are being diverse with you cry. And then you tell each other all of the millions of things that you see each other doing every single day. And it hurts.

It hurts to have someone point out how you waste perfectly good pineapple cores and your kids dump milk out EVERY SINGLE DAY, and you probably shouldn't have waxed your eyebrows that way, and you really could eat healthier, and you really could be more intelligent in your uses of modern technology, and, and, and....

And then you realize that the reason people only SAY they like diversity but avoid people of different age groups, disabilities, religions, economic status, childhoods, education, political thinking, race, and personality type – is because it is honestly VERY uncomfortable for the status quo.

Every word and action of those VASTLY different from us must not be taken with a grain of salt but with a whole bucket. I dump buckets of salt on myself every night when I go to bed. It is called grace and it's called prayer, and this is how the bucket goes,

“Wow God, a lot of crazy stuff went down today. I said a lot of stupid things. I did a lot of stupid things. Some pretty amazing people in my life called me out on a lot of them. Thank you for that. Please give other people the grace to hear the heart behind all that I say and do. Please give me the grace to do the same. Thank you for revealing new blind spots in my life... give me the courage to change based on the new info. Thank you for this salt to heal the wounds... but ummm... it's kinda slow – old-school medicine. Could we try something a bit quicker? Just a thought.”

So – do not fear the diversity... just make sure you have plenty of salt.

Also, I recognize the irony that I am writing this in Hays, Ks.

You need not point it out.