Juxtaposition...
Small pile of Christmas cards neatly stacked for the postman... table cluttered with the remaining. Trees decorated in winter bliss while my kitchen looks like it's been hit by a spring tornado. Christmas gift list tackled while the Gospel of Luke remains unruffled.
Chaos...
This year's Christmas looks nothing like the previous. Knowing that I would be celebrating solo, I focused on nothing but Jesus, but this year, filled with family and friends, I've slipped back into the temptation of should.  I should send a Hallmark to everyone, I should have wrapped the very last present weeks ago with Pinterest execution, my house and front yard should invite friend and stranger alike with twinkling lights and wafts of cookies baking in both ovens. 
Failure...
The joy I felt last year is replaced with tension and guilt, emptiness and longing. 
I've failed; I can't serve two masters: the Christmas of expectation and the Christmas found in a feeding trough.
I hope I've learned my lesson, even if only a few advent days remain.
I'm packing up should, unwrapping linger.
Linger...
Sit a long spell with Jesus who shines throughout the Holy Scripture, write that long letter to my late husband's frail aunt, pray for the friend who can't call her Christmas merry, share the story of great rescue with a lost soul.
Linger with one Master.

It just so happens, I write this reminder to myself on the winter solstice, the very day of the year with the fewest hours of sunlight. Light increases with each day forward. That's my desire for the rest of the season.
May the Son increase.

 “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.” John 8:12 ESV

On the eve of Rob's third year in Heaven, I've been thinking about how much he loved Christmas music. How fitting that tomorrow my church will be filled with carols from young and old. Rob accompanied the littlest voices to some of the finest soloists I know. Our home was filled with the wonderful sound of his piano throughout December and he made sure the students took time to carol for nursing home residents and staff. He'd drag an old piano or keyboard to each wing to make sure the kids were accompanied. I was in charge of making sure he remembered his readers, but really, he knew them all by heart. I don't know if he is playing an instrument (I hope so!) but I know he's singing with the choirs of angels, singing in exultation! Make a joyful noise, my love.

Music wove through our relationship like a golden thread. 
Like many couples we had our special song while dating: Rob, the musician, deemed it Chicago Transit Authority's Beginnings. To this day, I can't help but smile when I hear the brass chime in.
We'd spend hours in my parents' basement, listening to Rob's Columbia Record collection; we almost wore out the grooves of Deja vu and Abbey Road. My mom would finally yell down, "It's a school night!" and Rob would pack up his vinyls...and my heart.
We were married in 1976 when contemporary Christian music was still obscure, so we had to search for a current song that complimented the likes of Trumpet Voluntary. That was no easy task for two 21 year old's with unsophisticated taste, but we were pleased with Cousin Kathy's rendition of Here, There and Everywhere. Would I ever guess the line, "watching her eyes and hoping I'm always there," would send chills through me today?  

As poor newlyweds, our date nights usually found us in the aisles of Sound Warehouse on Westheimer and Voss. Rob studied the back of record jackets for hours, polishing his trivia skills, while I grooved, much to his embarrassment, to whatever was playing in the background. Then, we'd cap the night with a midnight run to House of Pies, where he'd try to dazzle me with his new repertoire of bass players and backup vocalists.
We were always late owls. Some nights we lay in bed until wee hours, playing our own form of Musical Jeopardy or Name that Tune, all the while laughing and robbing each other of much needed sleep.  "Just one more song," he'd say and I would give in.
In the later years of our marriage and with the onset of texting, we found ourselves a new love language. Rob would frequently send lyrics to express his affection or communicate whatever was on his mind. I soon began to deliver back my own, although, they were never as deep as his or as plenty.
 I might have texted the following much too many times.
They don't know how long it takes
Waiting for a love like this
Every time we say goodbye
I wish we had one more kiss
I'll wait for you I promise you, I will.
I'm lucky I'm in love with my best friend...
(They did score me birthday tickets to the songwriter's concert, though... Mraz on a hot August night.)
Yes, sweet texts bridged the many miles when he was working far away and we sorely missed each other. Sometimes, they spoke deeper than the nightly phone call.
 There are still things we shared that I can't enjoy ...some restaurants and other places are taboo to date, but music keeps Rob's memory and our love alive. There are few Saturday nights that I don't turn on Austin City Limits or pull out an old vinyl, but I also try to broaden my playlist with new artists because...well, that's what's Rob would be doing.
Grief is a very individual thing; each of us must find a cord that keeps us connected to our loved one. For some it's travel or sports or a particular hobby; for me, it's music.

Today, I miss Rob insanely! I'd give anything to shoot him lyrics and wait for him to respond with the correct group or the next line.

To Rob from Robin

"We sat on a roof, named every star, shared every bruise and showed every scar. Hope has its proof, your hand in mine. Life has a beautiful, crazy design. Can there be breaks in the chaos sometimes? Oh, God must have heard when I prayed cause now I always want to feel this way."

"People will be able to tell where our hope is by how we react today.  If you celebrate Trump more than you’ve ever celebrated Jesus, both online and in person, people will know which is more important to you.  And if you act like all is lost, people will suspect our confidence in Christ is more of a coping mechanism than an anchor for the soul." 

 John McGowan

I confess; I give most of the credit for this post to John McGowan, the lead pastor of Restoration City Church just outside of my beloved D.C.

But he got me thinking...

Perhaps most of us are still waking up from the long election night, the shock of the victory is softening. My guess remains that all parties were not expecting the outcome. The streets and news feeds have filled with First Amendment chatter, emotions still run raw, and the peaceful passage of power has begun.

It's a historic time for the world, so how do I, as a believer in the gospel of Jesus Christ, react?

In Kindness

I honestly can't fully identify with minority groups. I've lived a safe, privileged, "in the box" life, but because of Christ's love inside me, I can show empathy for those who fear the future. I can respect the passion behind another's platform.

I will look outside of my tidy life and offer a hand, a smile, an encouraging word. 

Speak words of life; someone may be dying to hear them.

 My social media must be filled with hope and love!

In Prayer

If this election season has taught me anything, it's that repentant prayer undergirds everything!

I will pray for the incoming as well as the outgoing.

Not occasionally, but daily.

Change will be difficult for everyone.

In Unity

Throughout the weeks leading to November 8th, I heard many comments linking our worth to a party, to a particular race and gender.

Our worth is found in only One! No president defines me, only my identification with a Savior.

Did you catch 'in only One?' Unity in One!

People are watching; do they see believers unified or will fragmentation over a fleeting presidency cost souls?

 So I will speak good news that binds every tribe and nation, every tongue and people.

"Your love for one another will prove to the world that you are my disciples."        John 13:35 NLT

How will you respond in the days to come?

A friend messaged me this morning, "Don't tell anyone, but at the last minute I voted for Trump."
I whispered back, "It was a really hard decision." 
Yesterday, I confessed to a friend that I was feeling less than love for friends with conflicting values. I needed love to overwhelm me.

We are a broken people!
No time for celebration, gloating, blame...
We are a broken people!

Recently, trusting God over my bank account, I chose not to enter a financial agreement with a company that tithes their profits to a church I consider dangerous and very misleading. One of my advisers treats me differently now. He sees me as bigoted; I see him as blind...a friendship stands in the balance. 
We are a broken people!

We whisper our concerns of unborn babies, dead end poverty, crippled economy and healthcare because we fear transparency and the backlash of our complicated humanity.
Oh courage and compassion, where have you gone?  

Yet hope remains...
I stand on the promise that
My God reigns on the most high throne.
His truths are unshakable.
He sheds his Grace.
He is the Way.
He heals.
He is love and a powerful teacher of it.

We hurt today. We hurt big.
We pray today. We pray big.
We hope today. We hope big.

Plan-C
I mentioned in my last post that it was not my first or even second choice of how I wanted to live my life. 
It got me to thinking...Does God keep switching the plan? 
I think I almost immediately heard God chuckle, Oh dear daughter, there is only one plan, MY PLAN. Stop counting, get up, and join me as I unfold it.
Somewhere along the way, I decided this season of loss would result in a greater me, maybe even a new me and yes, a new improved purpose. POOF! One day I'd awake and realize that all this rotten pain culminates in some grand, glorious calling, an earth-shaking destiny. 
What if the real calling is long, faithful obedience to his one perfect plan? And what if this calling draws more attention to Him than me?
Beware! Me always wants the starring role.

Singer/songwriter, Babbie Mason, suggests "living to please God is the primary reason you were born." I would add the words of Isaiah 26:8 to this highest calling: "Yes, LORD, walking in the ways of your laws, we wait for you; your name and renown are the desires of our hearts." Born to please and make God famous!
In both declarations, GOD/me. GOD over me. GOD is whole, I am fractional.
A long, pleasing obedience of making Him, not me, well known, while He reveals his plan to give me hope and a future...worth repeating.

Can the earth shake in the unfolding?
It sure can! 
A few months ago, I began serving in the newborn ministry at my church again. We no longer make home visits, so my role is less defined and visible.  I'm the prayer warrior for our new babies and their families and oh, boy, have I had a front row seat to God's seismic answers. 
He's called me to intercede for my own children and young grandchildren on a daily (sometimes hourly) basis. Knee-wearing work with rippling effect!  
Encouraging young families as they dedicate their homes to our loving Father may seem mundane, maybe non-essential in the grand scheme of things, but don't be mistaken; it's gloriously pleasing to God.

Remember your first chapter books? 
Did you enjoy watching the plot develop or did you race through the chapters to see how it ended? Maybe even now, you read the last page first, robbing yourself of the dramatic twist and turns.
I'm choosing to stop counting, to get up and take the next small step of obedience while He turns the page. 
How about you?

You ask where the blog posts have gone.

I'm walking through a season of sadness and frankly, just weary of words.

I'm sad that our country is polarized, but even sadder that the values I hold dearly seem to be wasting away in the hearts of our people.

I'm sad that my life is no longer filled with children and grandchildren. The loss is so devastating that I can't risk spilling it on paper.

I'm sad that my children grieve harder than me.

Sad that Plan A is erased, Plan B-unlikely, Plan C-still to be determined.

So I cling to the wise, healing words of others for a while.  Courageous women and men, having also walked the road of suffering, lend a stronger voice than I can muster.

Listen in...

You don't think you'll live past it and you don't really.

The person you were is gone. But the half of you that's still alive wakes up one day and takes over again.  

Thanks for hope, Barbara Kingsolver

Believe me, every heart has its secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad.

Interesting, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 

No matter how deep the pit into which I descend, I keep finding God there...he is vulnerable to pain, quick to shed tears, and acquainted with grief. God is a suffering Sovereign who feels the sorrow of the world.

Very comforting, Jerry Sittser

There is no straight path leading you out of the valley of that shadow. That shadow world became home to me, just as it has to anyone who loses a partner. Partners without partners understand; partners with don't.

I understand, Rob Gieselmann

I wait expectantly for a bumper crop of fresh thoughts.