With great trepidation I’m going to try to step back into
things here. I’ve renewed my self-promises to not let this happen again. It’s been about two and a half years
since I’ve shared.
I wasn’t doing all that well.
Since my last entry I’ve since lost my father, struggled to maintain my dwindling graphic design business, approached the brink of losing my home to foreclosure, and most recently have been dealing with a week’s hospitalization due to blood clots traveling from my lower legs into my lungs. Substantial clots, the doctors said.
However, I’d be in terribly misleading error if I stopped there with the short version of the past two years’ recap. I’ve also been blessed with my third grandchild, Micah, who is quickly attaining my best friend status. And there is a fourth grandchild on the way, a certain young Miss whose name, of course, escapes me just now. Business-wise the Lord has given a bit of hope, as we’ve (my wife works with me again) been given an exciting opportunity to display and sell greeting cards in a local store. I’m also finally getting around to designing a website for myself.
If I were painting a picture, or more appropriately, creating some glorious digital montage of the past couple of years, these mentioned occasions would anchor the visual. But of course there would be so many more ‘in-between’ details accenting, in an attempt to complete the picture. Life is so much more in the details than the red letter dates.
A part of me also feels it is very important to apologize to anyone who may have begun reading what I’ve shared and was confused about my absence.
“The only one who’s been waiting for your next entry is me.” The anticipated voice came. The little girl, there behind me. I spun to face her.
“This was even longer than last time,” she said. “And you promised back then to write more often.” She wouldn’t look at me. It was as if I didn’t deserve her glance. Eyes down, she pretended to be checking her black patent leather shoes. She had a jump rope. We stood there silently, wrapped in our separate and binding feelings. She seemed obviously hurt, and her pain both tugged at my heart in regret that I had let her down, and at the same time lifted me in the sense that she needed me.
Our ages didn’t matter. We were easily fifty years apart. But at that moment we were both—
“So what are you trying to do with this blog thing anyway,” she looked up finally and asked.
“Well,” I had to think. “Best case scenario, I thought I could encourage people.”
“About what?”
“Life. Like where we’re headed, what tomorrow holds. Just give folks a hope.”
“What makes you think they need encouragement?”
“Because I know I do. Sometimes. Sometimes it feels like there is no hope. Like there’s nothing to look forward to.”
She went off into her contemplation. If anything, I appreciated that she at least, was considering what I was saying. “Is this about the ‘Lord?’ I heard you mention him before."
“Pretty much.”
“Is he like your imaginary friend? Like my ‘Cindy’?
“No, not imaginary. He’s very real.”
“To you?”
“To everyone,” I said, declaring it once again for the thousandth time to myself. “He’s real for everyone. Even you.”
“Then how come I can’t see him? A person can see real persons. He sounds imaginary.”
“Well,” I thought. I wasn’t especially eager to get into theology—nor did I feel necessarily capable. “He wants to be sought. Diligently. You’ve heard of ‘seek and you will find’...? He shows himself in many different ways.”
“What’s ‘diligent?” she asked.
“When you work hard at something. When you’re serious and don’t give up.”
It occurred to me that I had never spoken to my own children—my daughters—like this. I never told them about searching for the Lord, about being diligent and persevering. I'm not sure I ever even shared my personal testimony with them, if they knew after all these years of my own struggles with my faith. My seeking and finally beginning to walk with the Lord was not, nor had been all mountain-top experiences. I wondered if it was ever too late to share those types of feelings.
“Well, where do you look for him?”
“The Bible. In prayer. You can ask Him to help you find Him. Once you begin to recognize Him, you’ll discover He’s all around us.”
Again, she seemed to be taking it all in. A half smile—or half grimace—I couldn’t decide which, crossed her lips. Maybe she wanted to know more. I took a chance and offered, “if you’d like me to help you look, I will. Every once in a while I lose track of Him too.”
“Mmm, I don’t know... maybe.”
“Does your Mom or Dad ever talk about God?”
“Only when they’re mad at something. Then they say God—”
I wasn’t doing all that well.
Since my last entry I’ve since lost my father, struggled to maintain my dwindling graphic design business, approached the brink of losing my home to foreclosure, and most recently have been dealing with a week’s hospitalization due to blood clots traveling from my lower legs into my lungs. Substantial clots, the doctors said.
However, I’d be in terribly misleading error if I stopped there with the short version of the past two years’ recap. I’ve also been blessed with my third grandchild, Micah, who is quickly attaining my best friend status. And there is a fourth grandchild on the way, a certain young Miss whose name, of course, escapes me just now. Business-wise the Lord has given a bit of hope, as we’ve (my wife works with me again) been given an exciting opportunity to display and sell greeting cards in a local store. I’m also finally getting around to designing a website for myself.
If I were painting a picture, or more appropriately, creating some glorious digital montage of the past couple of years, these mentioned occasions would anchor the visual. But of course there would be so many more ‘in-between’ details accenting, in an attempt to complete the picture. Life is so much more in the details than the red letter dates.
A part of me also feels it is very important to apologize to anyone who may have begun reading what I’ve shared and was confused about my absence.
“The only one who’s been waiting for your next entry is me.” The anticipated voice came. The little girl, there behind me. I spun to face her.
“This was even longer than last time,” she said. “And you promised back then to write more often.” She wouldn’t look at me. It was as if I didn’t deserve her glance. Eyes down, she pretended to be checking her black patent leather shoes. She had a jump rope. We stood there silently, wrapped in our separate and binding feelings. She seemed obviously hurt, and her pain both tugged at my heart in regret that I had let her down, and at the same time lifted me in the sense that she needed me.
Our ages didn’t matter. We were easily fifty years apart. But at that moment we were both—
“So what are you trying to do with this blog thing anyway,” she looked up finally and asked.
“Well,” I had to think. “Best case scenario, I thought I could encourage people.”
“About what?”
“Life. Like where we’re headed, what tomorrow holds. Just give folks a hope.”
“What makes you think they need encouragement?”
“Because I know I do. Sometimes. Sometimes it feels like there is no hope. Like there’s nothing to look forward to.”
She went off into her contemplation. If anything, I appreciated that she at least, was considering what I was saying. “Is this about the ‘Lord?’ I heard you mention him before."
“Pretty much.”
“Is he like your imaginary friend? Like my ‘Cindy’?
“No, not imaginary. He’s very real.”
“To you?”
“To everyone,” I said, declaring it once again for the thousandth time to myself. “He’s real for everyone. Even you.”
“Then how come I can’t see him? A person can see real persons. He sounds imaginary.”
“Well,” I thought. I wasn’t especially eager to get into theology—nor did I feel necessarily capable. “He wants to be sought. Diligently. You’ve heard of ‘seek and you will find’...? He shows himself in many different ways.”
“What’s ‘diligent?” she asked.
“When you work hard at something. When you’re serious and don’t give up.”
It occurred to me that I had never spoken to my own children—my daughters—like this. I never told them about searching for the Lord, about being diligent and persevering. I'm not sure I ever even shared my personal testimony with them, if they knew after all these years of my own struggles with my faith. My seeking and finally beginning to walk with the Lord was not, nor had been all mountain-top experiences. I wondered if it was ever too late to share those types of feelings.
“Well, where do you look for him?”
“The Bible. In prayer. You can ask Him to help you find Him. Once you begin to recognize Him, you’ll discover He’s all around us.”
Again, she seemed to be taking it all in. A half smile—or half grimace—I couldn’t decide which, crossed her lips. Maybe she wanted to know more. I took a chance and offered, “if you’d like me to help you look, I will. Every once in a while I lose track of Him too.”
“Mmm, I don’t know... maybe.”
“Does your Mom or Dad ever talk about God?”
“Only when they’re mad at something. Then they say God—”
“I gotcha, I gotcha,” I cut her
off though judging from her reaction it seemed she really wanted to say it. I figured I should steer this conversation away from calling
on God’s name. Besides, I had to get going. “Listen,” I said. “The next time we see each other, I’ll
have a Bible verse for you, or we’ll say a prayer or something together to get us
started on our ‘diligent’ search. Deal?”
She measured me again. “How long will it be before I see you, a couple more years? I might be grown up already.”
I smiled. “I promise that won’t happen.” I offered a subtle wave goodbye with my fingers, turned and headed away wondering what she indeed would be like when she was all grown.
She measured me again. “How long will it be before I see you, a couple more years? I might be grown up already.”
I smiled. “I promise that won’t happen.” I offered a subtle wave goodbye with my fingers, turned and headed away wondering what she indeed would be like when she was all grown.
