What I Meant to Say Was...

Today was a big day.

Today, the high school ministry at my church had "Graduation Sunday." A service to honor and celebrate the seniors and bid them adieu as they graduate and move on.

My student lifegroup girls are seniors. I've been working with some of them for seven years!

[Seems like I've been calling attention to that seven years since January. Not doing it to brag - although I love the longevity! - but mostly to acknowledge the magnitude of that for me. Not having my own kids, to travel from playdates to real dates, from 11 year old girls to 18 year old women, has been a huge blessing and an amazing privilege. So seven YEARS... WOW.]

It's a big day for them because their world is changing. It's a big day for me because they'll be in my world differently and less consistently.

As senior leaders, we got to record a few minutes of memories and advice for a video that would be played during the service.

We also had the opportunity to contribute photos for a slide show.

I excelled at the slide show contributions. The recording, well, I made a good start.

I encouraged them to keep seeking to understand how much God values them. He values them enough to send His only son to pay the punishment for our sin so we can have a restored relationship with our Creator.

But I didn't explain why.

BECAUSE - if we can begin to grasp what that sacrifice means, we'll understand a little better the enormous love God has for us, and how far He was willing to go to cover our sins. How much He was willing to give to fix our mistakes so we could have a relationship with Him.

AND THEN - if we start to understand how much He loves us and how much He gave to prove it, won't we begin to love and appreciate Him more? When someone does something huge for you, don't you feel closer to them and want to give love back? I have an example (trivial in comparison of course, but you'll get the idea): when I was going through cancer treatment, the people who brought dinner or walked my dog or sent cards and flowers... well, even now, I get emotional thinking about how their small gesture was so helpful and so encouraging to me. Their loving deed increased my love for them and made me feel closer to them and I value their friendship more.

So my theory is: seeking an understanding of how much God loves you will blow your socks off and increase your desire to know, love, and follow Him more and more.

And following Jesus has made me a better person, and made me live and love better. (Loose quotation from Andy Stanley, an Atlanta preacher - I've claimed it because I can't say it better - especially not in so few words!)

The better person part? That means God's done a lot of work in my life, replacing my sins and bad habits with love and light and all the good qualities you see in me. I'm not perfect, just growing.

So, my dear young friends (if you're still with me), keep seeking God because it will make you better in success and victorious in challenges.

I also want to say...

High school guys: thanks for being good friends to my girls. Sure, you weren't perfect and messed up big time once or twice, but once everyone got through those awkward middle school years, it was a joy to see all of you hanging out as a big group.

Ladies:

• I consider you my friends.
• Call me for coffee.
• Send me Christmas cards.
• Invite me to your college graduation  and house warming parties.
• Invite me to your weddings and baby showers.
• Never be shy about calling me - you are permanently etched on my heart - I won't forget you and will always welcome you warmly.
• I am so proud of you!
• It has been a privilege to have shared these years with you.
• I will miss seeing you every week.

I love you.

End of an Era

I almost titled this post "End of an Experiment."

Because that's what I've been doing for the past seven years: trying different things, with varying levels of success, all in an effort to create a community where a small group of girls can learn more about Jesus, themselves, each other, and how to function well in this crazy world of ours.

Tonight was bittersweet. Our last official meeting. EVER. After seven years of weekly meetings, winter retreats, and summer camps, they are graduating. And I'm planning to go back and pick up another group of sixth grade girls in the fall (stay tuned for my shell-shocked post about THAT next September!).

I'm so excited for them to graduate and go into the world and find their place - and hopefully have great adventures along the way. So tonight was a "launch party." And I think we did a pretty good job of celebrating each other and our time together, and looking forward with hope.

But it was also an ending. These ladies will have a place in my heart and life forever, so it's definitely not a good-bye, but it won't be the same again, and that makes me at least a little melancholy.

As this ending loomed, several panicked thoughts have flown through my mind. Mostly things like, "But we should have talked about...!" Those topics range from proper tipping habits to going over one more time - THIS time certainly most effectively - how much God loves them and what that really means and how it can shape their view of themselves, their circumstances, their world. I can't imagine being a parent - parents must think these thoughts a thousand fold. Or maybe a million fold.

I've been reminding myself over and over that I certainly didn't know everything I needed to know when I graduated from high school. (Although I thought I did!) Nor did I learn everything from a single person. These ladies I've had the privilege of leading are quite outstanding, and they will continue to grow and learn and mature as the years go by and their knowledge and experience grows.

And I will be here, cheering them on as always, just from a different seat.

I am so proud of them, and so blessed to have shared this time with them.

Rising Up and Blessing

It's Mother's Day, and I'm going to join the rest of the world in celebrating my mom.

[Please forgive the quality of this photo. I love it because it captures my mom's happiness so well. And it's in one of her favorite restaurants, which has some of the best chocolate cake in the city.]

I'm standing while I write this. 

Why?

Because my mom occasionally references this Bible verse:

"Her children rise up and bless her." 
That's Proverbs 31:28a, from a section titled "The Virtuous Woman."

So, Mom, here I am, standing up and blessing you. Because you've earned it and because I love our story of struggle and restoration; a story that would have ended so differently without God's grace.

Let me tell you why my mom is amazing.
[Note: this is all from my perspective... and the early childhood stories may be more legend than fact. But this is my story, and the happy ending is 100% true.]

1) I wasn't easy to love when she came on the scene, but she decided to love me anyway.
You see, I was four. My other mom died when I was three. I spent a lot of time with my grandparents in between moms. My grandparents were all godly men and women, but I bet they gave a lot of leeway to the little girls who lost their mom so early in life. My new mom missed out on the sweet, helpless baby me; she met me at the strong-willed, somewhat spoiled, pre-schooler stage. But I never, ever, remember hearing the term step-daughter. I don't think it was even a concept at our house, because I never remember thinking of her as my step-mom.

2) She gave up a great career as a teacher to be a stay-at-home mom for me and my sister - and later, two other siblings.
I believe her initial theory was, "If I can handle a roomful of fourth graders, a two-year-old and a four-year-old should be easy enough." Well... let's just say it was NOT an even exchange. Especially when I was clearly upset about sharing my dad... I did charming things like try to push them apart when they hugged.

3) She never gave up.
Clearly, we did not have an easy start. And it took us decades to learn to understand and enjoy each other. But, in the meantime, she worked really hard to raise me into a decent human being. I made her work for it, too (did I mention a strong will?). I wasn't a bad kid by most standards, but I wasn't very communicative at home. When I was in trouble, my tactic was to listen silently and then disappear to my room. Mom's tactic was to explain the issue until I responded with understanding. As you can guess, no one was a winner, and I can't even imagine how exhausting those encounters were for her. I think most women would have caved in and stopped fighting for correction, response, and relationship, but if she ever forfeited on an issue, I don't know about it.

4) She cared a lot more than I thought she did.
Often in the car, after some difficult encounter between us, I'd hear her mouth make a clicking noise. I always thought it was disapproval. Until one day I made that sound - because I was trying really hard not to burst into tears. Boy, did that open my eyes!

5) She made church and camp a priority.
With four kids and one income, we didn't have much extra money. But we always got to go to camp for a week or two in the summer, plus spring and fall retreats. We went to church every Sunday, and our parents drove us to and from youth group every Wednesday. And when I wanted to do Bible quizzing (sounds dorky, but it was so much fun!), they drove the extra trips for that, too. This ended up being critical for me, because church and especially camp were pivotal in mending the broken parts in me. And it probably provided some needed respite at home!

6) Her counsel is always Biblical.
When I was displaying unacceptable behaviors (like lying, for example), she had me research what the Bible had to say about the topic. Which I did with a terrible attitude, but, "bad-itude" or not, I learned Biblical truths that undoubtedly shaped my thinking in spite of myself. Today, she's a valuable resource for me when I am wrestling with a problem, and I've applied many of her thoughts and ideas, particularly in situations with the teens I work with at church.

7) She was willing to keep working on our relationship.
After high school graduation, I ran away in the most respectable way by leaving the country to go to college (actually, it's "university" in Canada - a very important distinction there!). It took another ten years or so before we started to find comfortable ground, but I never sensed that she held anything against me. At one point, my husband and I took a trial run at moving back to Minnesota. We ended up back in Seattle, but the biggest gift of that six months was having the time to build a new relationship with my mom.

8) She's an amazing woman.
I'm so thankful she didn't give into frustration and give up on creating a healthy relationship with me. That took a strength of will that is incomprehensible - a God-given endurance, no doubt. I think there's a longing built into all of us for a strong, positive friendship with our mom. I think that's why the messages we get from our moms are so influential. Over the years, God worked in both our hearts, teaching us to forgive, refining us, and changing our outlook from adversarial to harmonious. And now... now is beautiful. Now I can see a woman who loves and follows God, overcomes challenges, encourages others, gives wise counsel, and brings great joy to my life. We still have long talks, but now they're two-way conversations that I look forward to because they are uplifting and one of my great delights.

Mom, may you be greatly blessed, because you are a blessing to so many, including me. I love you. Happy Mother's Day.

Sometimes I'm a Little Slow Putting All the Pieces Together...

You know how, sometimes, the same thing comes up from several different sources? How does that happen? Where does it come from?

People explain it differently: coincidence, the Universe sending a message, or, in my case, since I believe in a personal, involved God, I would say those are purposeful, divine promptings. Regardless, the repetition is a call to pay attention and learn something.

Last week, it happened to me.

First, a friend said, "I have no idea how you maintain a positive attitude." Given that my primary challenge is physical (nasty cancer, but currently not detectable) and hers is relational (a huge, complex challenge within her family), I think my struggle is minuscule compared to hers. But I also think we should spend less time comparing and more time loving and supporting. Trials should not be a competition. But that's another post.

Second, my student small group's lesson last week asked "Does following God make life easier?" The standard answer is no: being a Christian is not a magical Get-Out-Of-Trials-Free card. In fact, it can make life more difficult because following Jesus means shedding selfishness and making decisions based on truth rather than feeling. HOWEVER, when I stand on the firm foundation of an unchanging God and his promises, the storm can swirl around me, but I have peace, strength, and joy because I believe there is a divine plan and purpose for those trials. And, since I've been alive for a few decades, I have the luxury of hindsight on several challenges, and I see how I've grown through them and how those experiences have been beneficial to me and to others.

My third source was a sermon (aka lecture on a segment of the Bible, if you're not comfortable with church lingo. And, yes, I'm a dork and listen to podcasts like this instead of pop music. I'm  hopelessly lame when it comes to current music - feel free to give me a flash drive with a playlist if this distresses you!). Anyway, the speaker asked, "Are you safest when you're in the center of God's will?" Well, that depends on how you look at it. If you like planning and control, being in the center of God's would seem like the most unsafe place, because you'd be trusting - and following - God instead of your carefully structured plan. But there's tremendous freedom in letting go of that. I love to make plans! I like to know what's coming next. But MY path through nursing school included staying for several years in a career I no longer enjoyed so I could save the money to go to school. God's plan included me being downsized from my company, starting school earlier, getting contacts and experience in oncology by being a patient, and a dream job that I thought I wouldn't achieve for many more years.

Today is Easter, and this morning I was thinking about this theme of joy and peace and purpose in the midst of suffering, and realized Jesus is the perfect example of this concept. He KNEW exactly what was going to happen on Good Friday, and he fervently asked God if there was another way. But he already knew this was their plan from the beginning of time, and that it ended in victory over death: resurrection. He loves us enough to want to redeem us from the punishment for our sins, and he was willing to endure the unjust trial, the mocking and beating, the painful death, and the separation from God because he knew what it would accomplish: redeeming us from sin, restoring our relationship with God, and demonstrating God's glory and righteousness. His death and resurrection is the climax of God's love story with us.

(While I'm writing this, I'm looking out over my brother's back yard, and two cardinals swept through! They're fairly common in the upper Midwest, but pretty rare in my backyard, so it was a treat to pause and watch the bright red birds flit around. In the midst of trials, little things like that are treats - a mini oasis to pause, enjoy, and give thanks. They are easy to miss if you're not watching.)

Whatever you're going through these days, I wish you peace and purpose, and the presence of mind to find those mini oases. Most of all, may you grow to love and trust God more and more, and see the purpose in your challenge. If you don't have a personal relationship with God, ask me - or anyone! - to tell you more about it. For me, it is why I am positive and upbeat instead of sullen and depressed (truly a possibility! But that is another blog post).

Happy Easter, everyone!

I Mowed The Lawn Today!

Why, you may be wondering, is mowing the lawn worthy of a blog post? Especially after such a long hiatus, you'd think I'd have content that was better than a bad FaceBook post.

You have a very valid point.

But here are some reasons why mowing the lawn makes the cut:

(Did you catch the pun there? You're welcome.)

1) I love mowing the lawn.

2) I haven't mowed the lawn in a few years. Between the ban on inhaling extra bits of nature while having chemo and being fatigued from treatment, Mike took over this chore. And for awhile we spoiled ourselves by hiring someone to mow for us. That was like magic: three guys swept in with their big mower, edger, and muscles, and the yard was done in minutes.

3) We live in the Pacific Northwest. That means it usually rains until late June. Sure, it's lush and green here, but by the time it's dry enough to mow, the grass is brushing our big dogs' bellies. This is another reason why paying someone else to mow was magic: their professional mower could handle our grass, no matter how wet. That still amazes me.

4) Last fall we finally spent the money to put in better drainage. Today: proof it works! Our formerly swampy corner was as dry as the rest of the lawn! Yippee!

5) Our mower worked! This is not a minor thing. We bought it in 1998. By the grace of God and a generous friend who took it for a long overdue tune-up (I was in the hospital after a surgery and he volunteered to mow for us - he was so appalled by the state of our mower, he took it in - on his dime), it still works. But not usually well. There have been summers when I fantasized about parking the mower in the middle of the road and taking few high speed runs at it with our big truck. But today, it sprang to life - On The First Pull! And I cut the whole yard without having to stop and empty the bag. That is no small victory, I tell you!

6) The rocks and the poop our dogs leave all over the yard? I found all but one before I mowed, and I saw the pile of poop I missed before I stepped in it. Always a bonus. This mowing gig is risky business.

7) Finally, perhaps most importantly, I did it. I wasn't in top physical shape (no where near, honestly) BEFORE cancer treatment, and I haven't made a big effort post-treatment to restore what I lost, so I was a little worried about whether my fitness deficits would severely humble me today. But, no! I showed that mower who's boss without a huff or a puff.

So, thank you, Lord, for sunshine when there should have been rain. I'm so happy to be back behind the mower - I think it's going to be a great summer.

Immune to Seahawks Fever

(Disclaimer: I'm not a hater. I'm happy for you crazy Seahawks fans. I don't begrudge the festivities. I just don't get it. I hope this post entertains you. But mostly, this is for the minority who didn't catch the fever. For my friend who's sitting on her party's sidelines right now, working on report cards. For my other friend, who is shopping and cleaning today - what a great day to shop, right?! She'll have the store all to herself - brilliant. Please just enjoy my report from the sidelines.)

The other day, I wore my navy pinstripe pants and a light olive green shirt to work.

"You've got your Seahawks colors on!" one of my colleagues cheered.

Actually, no.

I just have a LOT of blue and green in my wardrobe.

I really tried to become a sports fan. Growing up, I don't remember having sports on TV at home. When things got serious with my husband - an avid sports fan - I tried to watch all the sports he was interested in (which was most of them). I understand the games (well, the basics, anyway). But five years later, I was still commenting on hair, uniforms, and fans and wondering why everyone was cheering.

So I gave up on being a sports fan and embraced my lack of interest. I still go to the occasional sports event with my husband, but for me it's all about the food and the people.

Which is also why I look forward to the Super Bowl party every year: friends and food.

Today I'm blogging during the game because I'm at a party where everyone wants to WATCH the game. I don't want to get thrown out for talking. Or worse - yellow-flagged.

I'm not sure why I'm immune to Seahawks fever. Seattle has gone crazy and it seems everyone is infected. People who never cared about football are watching, cheering, and outfitting themselves from head-to-toe in Seahawks gear. In church today, the lady in front of me was praising God with her hands raised and her blue and green curly hair ribbons bouncing away. Even corporations have gone mad. Buildings figured out which offices to light to create a multi-floor "12" at night. And I'm certain I was the only person not in a Seahawks jersey at work on Friday.

My main proof of the madness is found in the halls of my respectable hospital. There's a "hall of heroes" I walk through every day. It has life-size cut-outs of hospital employees, pledging to continue pursuing excellence. Well, this week, those cut-outs had blue and green Mardi Gras beads draped around their necks. And their faces were covered with photocopies of Seahawks players' and coaches' faces. Hm.

What's a non-fan to do? Keep a low profile, that's for sure. I waited to come out of this closet until Super Bowl Sunday, in hopes that, once the final game is over, I won't be driven out of the city.

It occurred to me this morning that this might be what it's like to be Jewish in American in December. Almost everyone is excited about Christmas, and the world seems to be flooded with tinsel and carols. You kind of envy the celebratory spirit, but don't really get it - or want to embrace it, either.

But really, this is a great way to watch the game. Snacks are within reach, I'm happily occupied by my iPad, and I know exactly when to look at the TV - like just now, when all my friends jumped out of their seats, yelling and cheering. One of my friends has a HUGE voice and very entertaining (and family friendly) commentary. And I earned some goodwill by prepping dinner so my hostess, who is also the birthday girl today, can enjoy the game.

As usual, I'm happily entertained by my people. I'm thankful I'm not immune to that!