Memorable Days

Two decades separate my little brother's wedding from my own, but

they share the same building, 

same pews, same aisles, and many of the same people ... even the same pianist. 

But, the old ring bearer ...is the new groom.

The new groomsman ... is the old groom.

The old groomsman ...

... is the new pastor.

And the old pastor is ... missing ... and missed.

Dad died the year after he walked me down the aisle. James was seven.

Life moved on from there ... 

... and then sort of returned again. 

During the weekend of James's wedding, bits of dad's handsome character permeated the places of our togetherness:

All three of my brothers were in the same room with me several times. 

Bliss.

I could see traces of Dad.

Tim's individuality and passion for the Kingdom, 

and his ability to tell the perfect story - 

"enhanced" in just the right places to pique interest and produce laughter.

Josh's mannerisms - the way he looks through his glasses at you with kind sincerity; 

and his humility - 

he knows so much and is so very smart, 

but he is quick to listen and slow to speak, choosing to respond with more questions than answers.

James' confident smile that brightens rooms and lightens moods; 

and his love for people - 

he consistently chooses to put others first with generous grace and subtle style.

There were other reminders, too.

During the ceremony, my oldest son was an usher - and wore my dad's black Rockport dress shoes. 

The symbolism was sobering and sweet ... of filling shoes and walking paths ... legacy, heritage, and honor.

The day before the rehearsal, I looked in my closet and found Dad's black silk bow tie.
I rushed it through the dry cleaners, boxed it up, and sent it with the groomsmen on Saturday
to offer James as he dressed for the big day.
James wore it so well! There were no big acknowledgements ... it was our quiet, happy secret. 

Dad's signature touch was sweetly in our midst.

As the service concluded, the pastor blessed us with a wonderful gift. He said:

"James, twenty years ago I stood on this stage in your sister's wedding. 

In that ceremony your father shared some words that touched me so deeply. 

In fact, they had such an impact on my life,

 that I have shared his words in every wedding I've officiated over the last twenty years. 

I want to share his words with you now. 

In the few moments we've shared together tonight, 

you've made some very sincere and challenging promises to each other. 

But every day after today - you must choose to fill up your words with Christ-like actions. 

As you make your words come true each new day, in each new way, 

God will be honored and you will be blessed."

Mom couldn't have Dad by her side at James' wedding.

But how precious to have [almost] half of his grandkids on every side!

The Lord gives and the Lord takes away.

Blessed be the Name of the Lord! 

I will sing of the Lord’s great love forever;
    with my mouth I will make your faithfulness known
    through all generations.

Job 1:21, Psalm 89:1-2

God is with us and He is for us.

And He promises as we journey through happiness and sorrow,

that not a tear is wasted. In time we'll understand.

He's painting beauty with the ashes.

Our life is in His Hands.
Casting Crowns, THRIVE

*Photo credit:

Jeannie Walker Gaut

Fitty Phil

Philip is FIFTY today.🎉

I wanted to write a bunch of wonderful words about him, but his life already speaks abundantly and clearly of generosity and joy . . .

Speechless. 😍

Except for how grateful I am to be his friend. 🙌🏼

Celebrating half a century of greatness.

That face. Cutie. Pie.

Colorado 2018

A random Sunday enjoying a full house.

The main man and his crew of kiddos.

For the love.

Night to Shine

His happy place.

"Mercy, we survived [covid &] 2020."

Fave.

Prayer for Families

Faithful Father, thank You for Your love that cannot fail.

With divine wisdom, You have carefully established the importance of family and belonging – themes of heritage, tribes, generations, and lineages drive Your story of sacrifice and promise.

And with divine grace, You have radically expanded the opportunities for family and belonging – themes of courage, commitment, adoption, and freedom blaze a trail through Your story toward a place where promises are sure, and sacrifice is an abundant way of life.

For those of us who happily know the safety, identity, and joy that are birthed in a family who is marked by Your presence, we thank You. We praise You for Your good gifts.

For those of us who have had to venture out, and move beyond our beginnings to know unconditional love and security, we thank You for never leaving us. We praise You for Your loving presence, and for the supreme sense of family made possible by Your Son, our Brother and Friend, Jesus.

We commit to seek Your face and to seek You first because Your grace is more than enough.

Over every home represented here, we ask Your blessing. For every marriage, for all kinship and friendship, and for every soul in need of acceptance and belonging, we ask that You fill us with Your Spirit and hold us fast. 

Turn and shine toward us, Lord. 

Hear our prayers, and give us peace. Amen.

Comfort of Home

*The following is the very first article I ever had published ... in our monthly church newsletter in 1998. My heart can't allow myself to make the edits my brain sees as necessary. It is the faith-filled little flagship in my fleet of developing essays, and I love it just the way it is.

It was a beautiful spring day. I loaded the little ones into the stroller and headed up the road. As we topped the hill, I decided to stop and visit with a friend. We approached her front door, and I heard what seemed to be her voice cheerfully saying, “Well, hello!” I waited for the door to open … nothing.

“Well, hello!” I heard once more.

“Good morning?” I called out – making sure to be heard. “We were just walking and …”

“Praise Jesus! … O Lord, do have mercy on us. … Praise Jesus! Glory!”

At this point, I felt as though we might have come at a bad time. I wasn’t comfortable posing as some sort of peeping-tom-eaves-drip-intruder during a sister’s devotion!

Just as we were turning to leave, my elderly friend came around the outside of her house from the side yard and greeted us. I looked at her, then at the front door, and then again at her. Not knowing whether to be amazed or frightened by her seeming ability to be two places at once. My thoughts were interrupted by the voice calling out again, “Well, hello!”

My dear friend rescued me from my confusion as she giggled, “Oh, that’s my parrot. He’s saying hello.”

“It sounds exactly like your voice!” I marveled.

“Yes, I know,” she replied. “He gave the delivery man fits last week. After I signed the receipt and closed the door, my bird just kept screaming, ‘Bah-bye! Bah-bye!’. That poor fella stopped every two steps to turn around and wave goodbye again!” She cackled at the memory.

We continued to chat as we made our way indoors. The kids loved seeing the enormous birdcage and hearing its very verbal tenant. “Pretty bird!” the parrot pronounced. In a playful reversal of roles, my kids squawked back, “Pretty bird!” My friend and I sipped some lemonade and caught up on all her recent gardening adventures. I soaked up her wisdom, slurped the last of my drink, and told the kids it was time to go.

We hugged our goodbyes and headed back out to the stroller. As I fastened the straps, my friend waved her weathered arm and wished, “Bah-bye!” I could already hear that silly bird with an identical voice bellowing, “Bah-bye! Bah-bye!”

We left her driveway and headed home. I kept shaking my head and smiling as I remembered my friend and her bird. What a testimony of Ephesians 4:29! “Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen.”

That bird had enthusiastic praise sputtering out of its mouth. It was merely repeating the overflow of its owner’s heart. Greetings, well-wishes, and lots of Godly praise. I am ashamed to imagine the vocabulary of a strategically placed parrot in my home. All the critique and commentary that so often spew forth from my mouth would be exploited by a mimicking pet.

I do a decent job editing for church and company … but in the comfort of my own home? Do my words and tones of voice edify others and glorify God? A lot of the time, yes. But very often, my utterances are less than exemplary. I know this, because I’ve heard my own little parrots – these children I’ve born, with whom I live and breathe and speak every day. They can be heard huffing at one another with impatience. They bicker with one another without kindness or restraint. Sadly, they probably heard it first from me. I wonder if I possess comparable power to affect their words positively.

If I concentrated on filling my heart with Truth and focusing my mind on good things, would the overflow of my heart bring healing to those around? Would my little ones emulate my attitudes of praise? In the comfort of my own home, I must work toward consistently benefiting those who listen.

Due Honor

I believe Motherhood in its truest meaning is a glorious collective of bright and beautiful women who actively promote health and well-being in the lives of those around them.

It is the verb-mothers who deserve honor today. These women who - with or without children of their own - care deeply and pray tearfully and give graciously and invest selflessly in the lives of those around.

For example ...

The woman who invited me as a young girl on adventures and made the most delicious picnic lunches imaginable.

The woman who opened her heart and home to me when I was an immature, slightly obnoxious pre-teen.

The woman who listens as I process my crazy thoughts.

The woman who hosts huge lake days for my family with sunscreen and floaties and several sleeves of buttery crackers.

The woman who offers my kids yard work, the chance to earn some money, and loads of affirmation.

The woman who sends mobile updates and photos of my kid's game to me across town, because she's where I [also] need to be.

The woman who works the hardest and cheers the loudest for the ball team.

The woman who teaches my kids.

The woman who listens to their [super important] stories.

The woman who tells them their mom is doing the best she knows how, and encourages them toward honor.

The woman who makes much of them when my attention is spread too thin.

These nurturing, protective women indeed have children firmly placed within their care. To us, they are friends, teachers, aunts, and sisters who share the spirit of maternity.

And so on this Mother's Day weekend, let's broaden our span of attention and make a suitable fuss about (and send a thank-you to) these prized and precious souls!