Courage

"Grace" may be my word for the year 2020, but "courage" is without a doubt my word for the decade of the 2010s.  By nature I am not brave; I always identified with Piglet, the Very Small Animal of the Pooh stories. Through the many dangers, toils, and snares of the decade nearing its end, however, it seems that God intends to teach me courage if it kills me. (Kidding. Kind of. Maybe not.)

In a recent Joni and Friends podcast episode, Joni Eareckson Tada commented that you don't learn to swim on dry land, and you don't learn patience without something to endure. Similarly, you don't learn courage in green pastures and still waters. You learn courage in the valley of the shadow of death, with the wolves howling nearby. You learn courage in the middle of the sea with waves swamping your boat and no land in sight.

You learn courage in the days when you wake up thinking, "I can't keep going. I have to keep going. Lord, keep me going. Courage, dear heart."

And He does.

I am learning that courage is foremost a person, specifically the person of Jesus Christ. He faced down fear that caused Him to sweat blood at Gethsemane. He could have destroyed the Roman and Jewish leaders without strain, but He displayed the courage to submit to flogging, mocking, a crown of thorns on his head, nails in His hands and feet, stripped-bare humiliation, and the agony of death by asphyxiation on the cross. He chose all of that because it was the only way to wipe out the sins of wretches like me. And that supremely, sublimely courageous one dwells in me and in all who trust Him. His courage is my courage.

I need to read that again: He who is courage lives in me. His courage is my courage.

I am learning, second, that courage is rooted in the promises of the God who cannot lie. The God who reveals Himself in the Christian Scriptures does not change His mind. He does not make promises and then forget them. He does not give up when He realizes I'm not worth it. (He knows I'm not and loves me anyway.) His promises light up like neon signs when we go to His Word in desperate need. If you don't know where to go, try Romans 8, Psalm 23, 27, 46, or 91, Isaiah 40, Isaiah 41:10, Isaiah 43:2, Ephesians 1, John 10, 14, 15, and 16, 2 Corinthians 12:7-10, and on and on. In 33 years of walking with God, I have yet to find a need without a promise to match it.

I am learning, finally, that courage is a plodding path forward in the will of God, no matter how much my knees and ankles tremble in my hiking boots and braces. As the saying goes, it doesn't have to be a big step; it just needs to be a step in the right direction. "Courage is not the absence of fear; courage is fear walking" (Susan David). What is my next right thing? What is yours? Lord, grant us grace to do that, knowing You go with us and dwell in us to enable us to do Your will and be conformed to the image of Christ (Romans 8:29).

Lord, it feels like You are inviting all of us in this storm of a year to grow in courage. In some area or other, or maybe many at once, I suspect that everyone reading this feels a Very Small Animal. And sometimes we feel ashamed of that fear. Thank You for being our Very Big God, for being with us, for being for us, for empowering us to walk in Your will even when we're afraid, for picking us up when we fall, for wiping our tears when we fail miserably and come running back to You. Strengthen us with Your Spirit to become more like Your Son in every way, including His courage. When we feel afraid, let us trust in You. Mark our lives with Your fingerprints, that the watching world may see Christ in us and want to know You. In Jesus' name I pray. Amen.

Bereavement {a poem}

In one swift stroke

The sharp scalpel of sudden loss

Slices away soul calluses,

Exposing quick and tender heart beneath.

Laughter and tears alike

Bubble over more quickly now,

And keenly.

Her glad tidings, his courageous witness,

Every family celebration,

New thorn of affliction,

Persistent pierce of the old

That had become normal—

All sting as they prod

That raw place

Left by loved one lost.

Each "first" passes with wistful weeping

And the ache of remembrance.

Slowly, inscrutably,

The soul accrues fresh calluses

To shelter the quick and tender heart

From the vicissitudes of postlapsarian life,

Until the scalpel strikes again,

Until the woman's Seed shatters it in pieces

And wipes away all tears,

Our hearts made whole.

The long night shortens.

Soon we shall weep no more.

Sermon on the Sofa {From the Archives}

Lately this poem from the early days of this blog has been coming to mind. I need to remember to rest, to lean in, to fret not. Perhaps someone else needs that today, too? The concept and rhythm of the following come from Matthew 6:25-34.

Consider the canine of the couch,
How he sleeps:
Stretched out under the wing of the girl he loves,
Head pillowed on her knee.
Does he fret or worry
Over his next meal,

Next walk,
Next vaccine?

Feel the rhythm of his sleeping breath
As he leans in.
For him there is no next,
Only now;
And now is good.

Consider him:
Lean into your Master,
Your Father,
Your rest.
He knows the now and the next.
Fret not.

Memorial Stones: Words Like River Boulders

When Yahweh parts the flood and a nation walks through on dry ground,

nothing wet but the priests' feet,

When granola bars and sardines become a feast with 12 doggy bags,

When stone and slingshot slay a giant,

I heap up words like river boulders,

memorials of God's mighty hand and outstretched arm.

His love endures forever.

I heap up words to remember,

Lest, not remembering, I forget

And, forgetting, drift

Back to slavery of burdened unbelief.

When God's people are the giants put to flight by few,

When the handful of flour and bit of oil run out, yet famine does not lift,

When waves swamp the boat and still He sleeps,

When very God bleeds on a cross and angels of deliverance do not come,

Those heaped-up words like river boulders,

memorials of God's mighty hand and outstretched arm,

they remind me:

His love endures forever.

from the archives, March 2011

2016: The Fellowship of His Sufferings

Last year held much change and many widespread health trials for our family. Existing conditions advanced, and new diagnoses came seemingly out of nowhere. At least 2 of those situations have the doctors baffled. Sisters moved locally or internationally. Two extended family members came to require residential nursing care. Employment situations changed, for better or for worse (although, for the Christian, even for worse is ultimately for better).

It was the year of the brace for me. With an even dozen joints giving me difficulty, my orthotic braces reached a high of 9 last summer. Today's count is 7. This has taken away my piano and yarncraft and limited my reading (page-turning), walking, photography, typing, and writing by hand. When our youngest nephew asked for crocheted shark slippers for his birthday, I had to put the yarn and pattern away and order the finished project from Etsy because my wrist and elbow couldn't handle crochet. (That cost some tears.) The first new medicine didn't help, so we're trying a second one, but these are the kinds of medicines that require 6 months of steady use to know for certain whether they will work. Cold laser treatments have seemed to help some. Formal physical therapy created new problems, and at this point, the exercises any particular joint requires make one or more other joints angry. The medical appointments totaled 56. The doctors still think this is a temporary state of affairs, but they can't know for certain. The situation is so complex we're still praying earnestly and taking one step at a time as the Lord shows us what next.

The dermatologist gave me a new scar for Christmas, too. Actually, right now it's still a wound, not a scar, but that will come. A new mole appeared underneath one of my braces, on skin that hasn't seen the sun since my last skin cancer screening. It only turned out to be dysplastic, not cancerous, but its sudden appearance raised suspicions and called for removal just in case.

From those bare facts, you might think it was a horrible year, but you'd be wrong. That is not to say it was my all-time favorite, but the blessings were abundant, especially the family times. We celebrated 10 family birthdays in person on the actual day. Amore and I had a special symphony date in January and one night away for our anniversary. Seven of us met my uncle and aunt for a summer day at the science and nature museum. The boys created outlandish birds and fought robot wars with Grandpa and Uncle. Another family outing took us to the aquarium. A cousin Mom hadn't seen in years but was very close to in childhood came for a family dinner and lots of stories while he was in town on business.

We are stockpiling memories like people between famines. We have known the separations of distance, illness, and circumstance that hinder those kinds of together times. We have said good-bye to my grandmother and the end of new memories with her. These seasons of memory-making are temporary, fragile, and precious, so we cherish them and try to do so with hands open to the Lord, who gives and takes in wisdom for our good.

The Lord gave enough strength at the right time for us to spend a week with Amore's parents in central Texas and for me to help my parents care for my nephews for a week. Even 2 days before both those events, my participation was in doubt, so we knew with confidence that the strength was God's power made perfect in my weakness. The Lord also provided sufficient grace to continue in ladies' Bible study at my church and even to serve as a table leader for a six-week study in late spring. Amore had 5 journeys planned without me. Three of them came to pass.

Cedar waxwing, its wing injured by the first hailstorm

Two severe hailstorms struck our area, rendering 2 cars, our roof and shed roof, and various other items a total loss. We are thankful no one in the family was caught out in the storms or hurt. We received excellent help from our insurance company, and the storms replaced one car with a better one. My sister's insurer helped me through a two-month claim on her car, which was hail-damaged in our driveway while she was out of the country and couldn't manage that herself. (Wits' End lived up to its name.)

Having so many joint problems at the same time means I take ordinary blessings less for granted than formerly. Driving myself to appointments, cooking for our family, doing the laundry or dusting, walking to the park, writing a birthday card... all of these are blessings of God's grace, which sometimes were disguised by their ordinariness. When I couldn't drive myself to appointments, my parents or husband blessed me with extra time together. When I grumbled to myself about imposing on them, the Lord convicted me of ingratitude and reminded me that our time together was a blessing, whatever the reason.

Audiobooks to read to me and Amazon's Whispersync for Kindle to turn pages screens for me allowed me to stay engaged with my beloved books when my shoulders wouldn't let me turn pages beyond my day's Bible reading. My youngest nephews, Terza, and I immersed ourselves in the world of Hogwarts, the Burrow, and No. 4 Privet Drive for months on end and talked of dementors, charms, and what our patronus would be. It was not uncommon to enter their house to the greeting, "Expelliarmus!"

On seeing this at the science museum, Thunder said, "Look! It's Hedwig!"

My mother's lifelong dream to see the Emerald Isle was fulfilled. She traveled there in late spring with Dad and Mezzo to visit the land from which some of her forebears immigrated, and it lived up to  their expectations.

While they were gone, Amore and I watched Lightning hit a home run and slide under a too-late tag by the catcher. We sent the video to Grandma, Grandpa, and Aunt Mezzo across the ocean, and they watched it on a long train ride, cheering and clapping, much to the confusion of the people around them.

The birds and butterflies came in abundance, bringing cheer and distraction on many a discouraged day. We enjoyed a visit from a blue parakeet and raised monarchs from caterpillar to adulthood and release.

An adult niece and nephew on Amore's side began new lives and households with their respective spouses. We hope and pray the very best for them and are thrilled with the new additions to the family.

We laughed heartily as well as wept. It was a hard year, but certainly not a forgettable one.

In the midst of the persistent and even increasing trials, I have sensed the Lord's invitation to press on through perseverance toward counting the losses and pains as nothing compared to the worthiness of Christ, toward treasuring Him more than what has been taken, toward believing in and cherishing the fellowship of His sufferings even when I can't sense it.

Elisabeth Elliot said, "The deepest things that I have learned in my life have come from the deepest suffering, and out of the deepest waters and the hottest fires have come the deepest things that I know about God." Perseverance with joy (Col. 1:11) comes, through God's supply of strength, when that deep knowledge of God grows more precious than the things taken by the deep waters and hot fires of suffering. I want to grow in treasuring Him that way, though my soul shrinks back from the process.

Trials are worth it because He is worthy. His plans are good because He Himself is good. May the year 2017 draw us deeper in treasuring Him. May none of our sufferings be wasted, but all serve to increase our growth in knowing Christ in the power of His resurrection and the fellowship of His sufferings (Phil. 3:10).

Fairbanks and Home {Lone Star to Last Frontier, 2015}

For the backstory, please see the post, "Courage, Dear Heart!" This post includes many photos (sorry, not sorry), so e-mail readers may prefer to view the Web version of Fairbanks and Home.

Our last day in the last frontier was largely spent in a bus, enjoying the beautiful fall color on the drive north from Denali National Park to Fairbanks.

We drove past a government satellite array important during the Cold War for keeping tabs on our northern Pacific neighbors.

We stopped in Nenana and heard the story of Balto, the most famous of a team of sled dogs who managed to navigate through white-out blizzard conditions to deliver precious cargo of diphtheria medication from Anchorage to Nome. The human drivers couldn't find their way, and no planes could fly, but the dogs saved numerous lives and stopped a potential epidemic.

Nenana hillside cemetery

The odd structure below is transferred to the river surface after it freezes over for the winter. People all around the world compete to guess when the ice will thaw enough for it to fall through. (We didn't attempt that.)

These are reindeer kept by a university agriculture program. If the same animals were wild, not domesticated, they would be called caribou. We're not sure if they're Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, or who. I didn't see any red noses among them, though. ('Tis the season!)

When we arrived in Fairbanks, we explored by foot and ate lunch at a local shop. Along the river we found a pretty plaza with a sculpture commemorating the first people of Alaska and their traditions.

Repacking, weighing our suitcases, resting, and showering consumed the rest of the day. We ate a lovely, hearty dinner before our midnight trip to the airport for the long trip home. We were disappointed that the skies were still too overcast to see the Northern Lights, but the Lord gave us a sweet parting gift after our layover in Seattle.

This is Mount Rainier in early morning, as seen from my window seat. My mathematically minded dad observed that from this same flight altitude, we would still have been looking up at Denali.

We returned home that evening to near-100F heat. Due to fatigue and the lateness of the hour, we postponed our reunion with Ebony until the next morning. This journey was the longest he and I have ever been separated since we brought him home. He was beside himself to see us again. (The camera was having trouble focusing with such quick action, but this video makes me happy, so I'm including it anyway.)

In conclusion, dear Crumbles, these are my memorial stones of a great adventure I couldn't have enjoyed without the Lord's power and grace. Is there some hard thing, some God-sized task which you know the Lord is nudging you toward today? If so, I pray that having read the story of His victory for me would give you courage to move forward in faith, giving glory to Him. What He has promised, He is able also to perform (Romans 4:20-21). Where He calls, He enables. Impossibilities are His specialty.

Courage, dear hearts!

McKinley Explorer {Lone Star to Last Frontier, 2015}

For the backstory, please see the post, "Courage, Dear Heart!" This post includes many photos, so e-mail readers may prefer to view the Web version of McKinley Explorer.

From McKinley Princess Lodge in Talkeetna, we took a double-decker train, the McKinley Explorer, north to Denali National Park. (The President had visited Alaska less than a month before we did, and at that time he officially announced that the name of the mountain would revert from Mount McKinley to the original Native American name, "Denali," or "Great One.")

We rode upstairs in these cars and ate lunch on the lower level.

The conical structure is a beaver lodge.

This is Hurricane Gulch, the most dramatic view we had, since it was too cloudy to see Denali from the train.

Hurricane Gulch again

Eagle's nest

Beaver dam in progress

Completed beaver dam

The highest point of our rail journey, approximately half a mile above sea level

Not in Texas anymore!

Home away from home for two nights

In one of those unexpectedly lovely travel serendipities, we went to the pizza place on the lodge property for supper after checking in and unpacking. It was Sunday evening, and the Dallas Cowboys were playing their season opener against New York back home. We asked a waiter if he minded changing one of the televisions to that channel so we could see the last quarter of the game. (Ironically, if we had actually been in Dallas, the last quarter of a Sunday night game would have been past our bedtime, so we'd have had to record it and watch it the next day.) Romo led the team in one of his signature eleventh-hour comebacks, and the Cowboys won in the final play of the game. It later proved to be the most exhilarating game of the whole season.

We were surprised to hear one other family in the restaurant cheering and celebrating, too. It turned out they were from San Antonio, and the common sports allegiance led to a pleasant conversation about places back home.

It wasn't a dramatic photo op or an amazing glimpse of wildlife, but it was a sweet little gem of a moment all the same. Coming as it did in the final days of our journey, we welcomed the connection with home and an opportunity to share an experience with our family members there watching the same game at the same time.

Whittier to McKinley {Lone Star to Last Frontier, 2015}

For the backstory, please see the post, "Courage, Dear Heart!" This post includes many photos, so e-mail readers may prefer to view the Web version of Whittier to McKinley.

On the morning after our 2 days among the glaciers, we disembarked the ship at the port of Whittier and boarded a bus north to McKinley Princess Lodge near Talkeetna, Alaska.

The long drive began with a one-lane tunnel; it was not for the claustrophobic, but by the time that discovery were made, there would be no help for it. The direction of the traffic in the tunnel changes approximately every 20 minutes. Our driver helpfully (but not so reassuringly) pointed out to us the recessed niches in the walls of the tunnel where we ought to take refuge in the event of earthquake, landslide, and/or fire.

Suffice it to say, the expression "the light at the end of the tunnel" took on a much more vivid meaning for us after experiencing this one.

Our driver told us many stories about life in Alaska. He drives this bus route in the summers and withdraws to his home in the bush country the rest of the year. Living in the remote Alaskan wilderness is both physically and psychologically rigorous, and because of the community's interdependence for survival in the long, cold winters, the entire group decides whether a prospective newcomer may move there.

We drove alongside Turnagain Arm in Chugach State Park. Turnagain Arm, a branch of the Cook Inlet, is famous both for its beauty and its treachery. Lives are lost every year when hikers walk along the water's edge at low tide, become mired in the quicksand-like mud, and cannot be reached by help before high tide rushes in.

Yes, really: moose crossing.

Other than our driver's fascinating stories, some beautiful autumn color, and passing within a stone's throw of Sarah Palin's childhood home, the only notable occurrence of the drive was seeing the great mountain briefly known as Mt. McKinley and now called again by its Native American (or First Peoples) name of Denali.

At the time of these photos, we were still more than 200 miles distant from the mountain. There was no opportunity to stop and leave the bus to fight the rain for a better photo, but at least we saw it, or rather its base.

After unloading our bags at the hotel, we explored the grounds a bit and enjoyed the beautiful,oversized flora and bronze sculptures of local wildlife which were scattered throughout.

Rose hips

Foxgloves

Only 50+ degrees cooler than North Texas that day!

Then the men left for a lakeside hike and discovered sunshine along the way, while Mom and I enjoyed the lodge's coffee and a crossword puzzle she'd brought from home. The following photos are from Amore's snapshots of the hike.

I don't know what that sign is talking about. This looks totally safe to me. {Kidding!!}

When Mom and I ran into the brick wall of our ignorance and gave up finished our puzzle it looked like the sun might be peeking through for us a wee bit too. Mom indulged me with some photos of the mountains beyond the lodge's viewing deck while we waited for Denali to show its lovely self.

Denali is right behind her in that last photo. Do you see it? No? Completely underwhelmed? Here's the map to give you a hint:

Do you see it this time?

What, you still don't see it? I don't either. How could we not see the biggest hunk of granite in the United States, a mountain with net base-to-summit elevation greater even than Everest?

Two words: cloud cover.

If you will bear with another stupid question, here it goes: do you believe Denali is really there?

I do. The testimony has been confirmed by too many different sources who have seen it when clouds didn't "veil its lovely face." Plus, I did see it once. I saw it from a great distance as we drove. A mountain that big doesn't just cease to exist. At least, outside the events of Revelation it doesn't.

We were disappointed not to have a better view, but that in no way diminished our belief in its reality.

In ladies' Bible study right now, Mom and I are learning about and discussing perseverance in hard times, especially the relationship between perseverance, character, and hope. The study highlights the need to "look for lovely" to fuel our endurance. One way we do that is to fix our eyes on God's character, ways, and Son. In the second surviving letter to the Corinthians, the apostle Paul says it like this:

Therefore we do not give up. Even though our outer person is being destroyed, our inner person is being renewed day by day. For our momentary light affliction is producing for us an absolutely incomparable eternal weight of glory. So we do not focus on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal (2 Cor. 4:16-18, HCSB).

In the same way that we persisted in believing in the truth of Denali though we couldn't see it, we may persevere through affliction by persisting in belief in that incomparable eternal weight of glory ahead. We may also persevere through affliction by recognizing that the very affliction which seems to destroy us is producing the glory awaiting us. Instead of focusing on the clouds, we (I) need to focus on the reality beyond them. We have an abundance of reliable, inspired, inerrant testimony in the Scriptures as well as our own less reliable but real memories of God's glory in our past experiences. Flipping through the pages of Scripture and our own mental photographs of spiritually sunny days can provide just enough help to focus on the unseen and experience renewal of our inner selves when all outer circumstance may look dim or even bleak.

It is my closing prayer for you and for me that these middle verses and the refrain from "My Hope Is Built," by Edward Mote, would become our testimony, too:

When darkness seems to hide His face,
I rest on His unchanging grace.
In every high and stormy gale,
My anchor holds within the veil.

His oath, His covenant, His blood,
Support me in the whelming flood.
When all around my soul gives way,
He then is all my Hope and Stay.

On Christ the solid Rock I stand,
All other ground is sinking sand;
All other ground is sinking sand.

Courage, dear hearts!