WHEN LIFE GIVES YOU LEMONS

I love the Scripture that talks about how good and pleasant it is for God's people to live in unity! I have stood at several altars with arms entwined around each other while the congregation sang:
            "You're my brother, you're my sister,
              So take me by the hand,
              Together we will work until He comes;
              There's no foe that can defeat us
              When we're walking side by side,
              As long as there is love, we will stand."

Ahhh, there's a catch, though. We must continue to stand together in love. And I think that's what I'm struggling with these days: feeling loved by, and together with, my people.

I guess I allowed myself to become a little disillusioned over the past few years. Notes/comments on social media have been quick to proclaim that our family is loved and missed and should come "home" for a visit.

Then I did. And precious few of those note writers observed my presence. And so began my feelings of disillusionment. Had I really invested 15 years of my life in building community with so many people who couldn't - or worse, wouldn't - spare 15 minutes?

And then I came back to my new home, where I have found my stride in life. I felt blessed to be covered in the love and prayers of new friends as I journeyed back East, and couldn't wait to return to open fields, open skies and open arms.

Except the arms I expected weren't open. It was coworkers who asked the details of my dad, my mom, my gay boyfriend and the ocean. The prayer whisperers were absent in the aftermath.

I chose to count myself doubly blessed: I had friends for praying and friends for staying. Those people who need only interact Monday through Friday during business hours have become woven into the fabric of my heart. They choose to care at all hours.

I spent the next three weeks fielding questions about my daughter. My first baby who is about to give birth to my first grandchild. "What does she need? Is she getting excited? Will there be a shower? I have stuff for her! Tell us when and how we can help or drop things off!"

The baby shower was advertised on flyers around town. It was posted liberally on social media accounts. And it was attended by exactly two people who were not family. One of those two makes no claims to Christianity. Again, though, coworkers came through with a stroller/carseat combo and numerous items of furniture and clothing.

My daughter lives directly across the street from my church. Many from the congregation nod, wave, or even chat with her each week. Still, the day after the unattended baby shower, several watched her excuse herself from the dinner-on-the-grounds lineup when she didn't have enough money, as she assumed it was the price of a donation. And my heart shattered.

When did we, as the family of God, forget how to be family? When did we stop linking arms with the sad and the poor and the loner and the weak? When did we begin to believe it was OK to offer lip service but be of no actual service?

I am challenged by these events: to be better, to do more, to love harder. To see a need and meet it. To bind up the brokenhearted. To stand in the gap for someone who has no one. To take every thought captive and stomp out the root of bitterness. We are better together.

If I have ever neglected you, please accept my heartfelt apologies. If I have disappointed or made you feel less than, I am so sorry! If it's not too late, I'd like to be better at being part of your community. If there are specific ways I can help, please don't hesitate to ask!

When life gives you lemons, I would like to be the shade for your lemonade stand. Because sometimes the best thing is just to show up and stand.

Together.

Heart Hugs,

V.

YOU'VE BEEN GOOD

One week ago today, I flew across the country to say Goodbye to my Dad. It has been a whirlwind of activity and emotion; my heart is full, and my pen is unsteady.

As with any situation in life, my family has not disappointed in the drama department during my father's illness. I have struggled to get updates on his condition, and my arrival on site taught me that while a picture is worth a thousand words, it also covers a multitude of truths.  This was clearly our last visit.

I am weeping as I write this, and I realize this is the first time I have given my tears permission to flow this week. Crossing 6 times zones in 4 days is a terrible idea, and having something scheduled every evening could be positive or negative, depending on what you wish to accomplish. While it may result in snoring at your desk, it also gives the heart time to ponder without really processing.

My Dad has had Multiple Sclerosis for a number of years. Sneaky disease that it is, it allowed him to have normal and lengthy telephone conversations that gave life the illusion of normal. Until the Congestive Heart Failure jumped on board a few weeks ago, I did not know that he had not spent any pleasure time outside in over a year. I could not hear him shaking in a manner similar to Parkinson's, could not see his tongue thick and on the verge of escaping his lips in moments of stillness, and could not see the scoliosis they've now diagnosed. He says he didn't realize anything was wrong; he's just sitting how he always sat while driving truck. 

He dropped other tidbits, too - stories told twice in ten minutes. A neighbor of several years mistaken for a high school friend. His line in the sand - he wants to be "in the ground at 70" - and he's already 68. "Don't forget, Vic - I wanna be buried upside down." Yes, Dad - so the world can kiss your ass. "You got 'er," he says, laughing.

Laughter is my Dad's legacy. Despite how little we have known of each other through the years, we share this gift of humor. It turns these 2 days together into a lifetime of memories. His video chat with my middle son makes me roar laughing - until he refutes the offer of a visit saying, "You've been a good grandson; I could at least make fun of you." The threat of tears prompts a hasty end to the phone call because this, too, I share with my Dad: say it quick, move on, and avoid the depth of it.

It is quiet from across the country upon my return to the prairies. Today I sent my mom a text message - just a silly Snapchat photo of myself with kissing lips. "Tell Dad I say hello; he's been awfully quiet." She responds that he sometimes has a down day, but it's been 3 days - the lowest she's ever seen him. My heart breaks as I realize my Dad actually knows I'm gone. And then he wakes from his nap.

"He says it's an improvement on your looks," the text reads.

"I wouldn't expect anything less from him," I respond with a giggle.

"He says he is glad you're not disappointed. He is laughing ... nice to see."

Awww Dad. You don't disappoint. You've been a good dad; I could always have fun with you. 

Love,

Your #1 Youngest Daughter