Best Birthday Gift Ever; A Letter from My Brother

My brother @1965 at approximately 6 years old.
Picture Day.

 

After the email exchange of a few days ago, I didn't hear from my brother. But, he posted this photo on Facebook, indicating he did that for me. Then, I woke up to find the following had been emailed late on my birthday yesterday.

 

Hi M,

Hope it's been a great day with JE's family, grandkids must be a blast. Looking forward to it. I'm sure they take a lot of energy to keep up with.

I wanted to wish you a very Happy Birthday, and yes, I screwed up on the card thing, and no, this is not in lieu of. I just felt the need to express what a great big sister you have been to me. For as long as I can remember you've been doing things for me to make my childhood and beyond a little richer.

I remember you making it possible for me to attend basketball camp at Wheaton College, and taking me horseback riding for the first time. I still have vivid memories of both, and I'm sure I'm leaving out more. Words can't express my gratitude for what you did last year, all the time on the phone, trying to help me keep it together. I was so conflicted in my mind I didn't know what was real. I'm so sorry for what I put you and the rest of the family through, especially last winter. Then when you stood in the gap between hospital and home, well, that was just over the top. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

The email you sent about the picture and my growing up was spot on. Although, I wasn't really raised by wolves; Jesus had a hand in that. Through Sunday School and Christian Endeavor, Bible Club and Vacation Bible School, good neighbors and teachers, He provided just what was needed. Mom instilled a conscience in me that guides me to this day, although I have chosen to ignore it at times it's always there.

I wrote another poem yesterday, a somewhat fictionalized version of some of what I've come through in the last 2 years. I'll share it with you later and you can critique it for me. Part of me has wanted to try my hand at song writing, (country of course) but I'm not sure how my style matches up with how they do it. If nothing else, it seems to be cathartic for me (pretty fancy word for a redneck wanna be, huh?). Hahaha!

Well, (as mom would say) well, thanks again for everything, and HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!

 

My response? A simple, "I love you."

P.s. He ALWAYS sends great birthday cards.

A Birthday Letter to My Brother

I was surprised at how much you hate this photo. I find it winsome and touching.

You were a little boy. A much longed-for and loved little boy. Unfortunately mom was not up to taking care of you; keeping track of all the things mommies do for their little boys. That doesn't lessen her love of you, nor does it excuse their lack of attention to your needs.

You were raised by wolves, yet you've managed to become a worthwhile, charming, intelligent, loving man. Good for you. Bad on them.

I think when you see this photo you don't want to feel that pain, suffer those memories again. I do not enjoy strolls down memory lane re: my growing up years, either. When I see this photo, It reminds me of your sweetness and the fun we had with you. I love your innocence, and a couple of my grandkids look a bit like this photo of you.

Everyone has a story. It's what you do after that counts. (Sue Miller's For Love.)

We write our own stories. (Don Miller, et al.)

Sometimes you need to let go of your old stories to make room for the new ones God is writing with you.

 

We mostly weren't beaten or ever locked up, so its hard to allow ourselves to acknowledge there was emotional abuse and certainly neglect. Yelling, empty threats, shaming, rage, embarrassment, disappointment--plenty. Yet, we had grandparents and aunts who loved and trained us, and they along with mom covered us in prayer. God is faithful.

I think having been a part of the first 5 kids--your sisters shared and reinforced the good memories. Some of us pretend they were all good. You were just too young while your sisters were at home to remember all the love we showered on you. And, our grandparents were older and less active by the time you could have most benefited; although I know you treasure your memories of both sets.

So, I'm loving this reminder of my baby brother. You've always had to make it up as you go along. Guess what, so did your sisters.

Now write a great story with the next chapters of your life.

 

 

Real Love

... Love has to be tough and uncomfortable, and it has to sting if it's going to prove to be real and last for the long haul. Love that's too timid to ache isn't love at all.

Pg. 31

The Rook

by Steven James

 

Well said. A jewel hidden in the pages of an FBI procedural novel.

 

Not the popular culture's view of love, for sure. But in the midst of months and months of walking alongside encouraging, questionning, and challenging my brother, it's the love he needs. And, it's the only love I can offer.

 

I've grieved his circumstances. I'm angry at his choices and lethargy. I've exhausted myself emotionally, but the anger has helped me to regain the healthy emotional distance I need for the long haul.

 

I can pray, but I'm done with the advice. He's extremely intelligent. He remembers much. He's heard it all. Taking action is his downfall.

 

RESURRECTION DOUBT (The healthy kind...)

kellyolexa.com

Our son forwarded this link to us, and I love it!

This Sunday millions of Christians will raise their voices to share in the ancient Easter acclamation, "Christ is risen! He is risen, indeed!"

But what if you don't believe in resurrection, or at least aren't sure? Perhaps you've been attending church for years but feel a little left out, even guilty, on Easter morning as you wonder whether Christ was really raised from the dead. Or maybe you don't often go to church but are willing to concede a "spiritual" meaning as you attend Easter service with your in-laws. Or perhaps you flat out think resurrection is fantasy, something that just couldn't happen.

If any of these conditions describes you, it turns out you're in good company, as there is a significant feature of each of the gospel stories about the first Easter morning that often gets left out of church services and sermons. Namely, when the heavenly messengers first announced the news of Jesus' resurrection, no one said, "Praise God" or "Hallelujah," let alone, "I knew it -- just like he said!" That's right -- not a single one of Jesus' disciples at first believed the report of his resurrection. In one story the women flee the tomb in terror and silence, and in another when the women do muster the courage to tell what they've seen the men dismiss their testimony as "a crazy story." In all four gospel accounts, it appears that the natural response to word of the resurrection is doubt, fear, and bewilderment.
How come?

I'd suggest two reasons. First, I suspect that the evangelists recognized that the resurrection is, quite literally, incredible -- that is, not believable. As Matt Rosano wrote earlier this week, resurrection isn't simply a claim that Jesus' body was resuscitated; it's the claim that God entered human history and created a new reality all together. Which, quite frankly, can be frightening. After all, if the dead don't stay dead, what can you count on? Resurrection, seen this way, breaks all the rules, and while most of us might admit that the old rules aren't perfect -- and sometimes are downright awful -- at least we know them. Further, resurrection inherently threatens the powers-that-be. Think about it: empires, then and now, exist by the fear that they can take away life. When one of their "victims" goes and comes back, well, the whole power-through-fear enterprise is suddenly suspect.

Second, I think we have glamorized -- and thereby misunderstood -- the nature of religious faith. While some religious leaders may thunder that perfect faith conquers all doubt, biblical authors believed that faith and doubt are actually woven closer together than we might imagine. Doubt, questions, even downright skepticism -- these aren't the opposite of faith, but an essential ingredient. Faith, after all, isn't knowledge; rather, faith is "the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen" (Hebrews: 11:1).

Writing a half-century ago, J.R.R. Tolkien, author of The Lord of the Rings and a devout Roman Catholic, conceded that resurrection seemed like a fantasy, by its very nature almost too good to be true. For that very reason, Tolkien continued, he believed it must be true, as the story we live in needs a better ending than the one we've crafted. Similarly, W.H. Auden once penned, "Nothing can save us that is possible. We who must die demand a miracle."

So perhaps all the questions common at this time of year about whether the resurrection really happened and how, while understandable, are nevertheless a bit misplaced. Perhaps the question instead might be, "Does this ending make sense to you? Does word of God's love overcoming hate, of life conquering death, give you hope?"

Whatever your answer, know that you are welcome at the Easter feast, where confidence and mystery, faith and doubt, are mingled together. After all, if the original disciples had a hard time taking it in, I don't think there's anything wrong with a few skeptics -- and maybe more than a few! -- gathering to hear and share in the story being told. And, who knows, when the worship leader cries out, "Christ is risen!" you may be surprised by how you respond.

Blessed Easter!

David Lose
Author, Making Sense of Scripture
via The Huffington Post
4//20/2011

LOVING YOUR MOTHER-IN-LAW

Gigi reading to JA - Omaha in June

I was skimming through the Chicago Tribune today--scanning and opting not to read all the info/tributes to Michael Jackson--and read a bit of a column by Eric Zorn and Mary Smich. What caught my eye was Eric Zorn's reference to his "beloved mother-in-law." Wow! Not the descriptive usually attributed to mothers-in-law.

HURTING FRIENDS

Our friends have had more than their share of sorrow and loss in the years that we've known them. There have certainly been joys and celebrations amongst the sorrows. But, the extent of their losses and hurts is significant, and in the midst of a time of grief and remembrance another blow fell. God has been gracious and the end results are merciful and good. It's just very hard to understand how He has allowed another huge trauma to fall when they barely have their sea legs from the recent past.

WHEN YOU ASK FOR BREAD...

An entry from my journal November 7, 1994, a Monday...

A sad, difficult weekend... DM called very, very early Saturday A.M. His college girlfriend broke up with him within 24 hours of his arrival in France to visit her. He really seemed to be handling it well, but still he was very hurt, as we were for him. He was quite proactive... determined to make the trip and expense worthwhile. He had already had dinner with Frank--a French young man he met on the train from Avignon to Montpelier.

Talked with DM again this morning. JP doesn't want to proceed with the relationship because she doesn't feel he's the man God has for her long-term. Wants to remain friends. DM is cooperating--still hurt and rejected. Me, too!

I reassured him--he is the young man God created him to be--constantly evolving, but he can't change to suit JP or anyone. His heart is to please God. He's 22 years old and doing quite well--he's seeking and gaining godly maturity.

When he gets back to IL he'll have to refocus and re-establish his social life. The future is exciting.

I told him God might ask, "Can you continue to trust me now, even if I never tell you why?"And,
"When you ask for bread, will He give you stones instead?"

14 years later and so much is clear now. DM has continued to grow and to serve God in full-time ministry. He lives in Europe and has married a beautiful, intelligent, gifted, loving, sparkling young woman and has two gorgeous and vibrant little girls.

What a ride! If JP had hesitated to end the relationship, we might have all missed out on all the adventures that God has taken us on--so many trips to Europe. Experiencing and living in new cultures. The foods and markets and cities of Europe. The love and joy of doing family in two languages--finding ways to communicate without just words. We will just hang on and let God continue to take us over mountains and through valleys and across fields of sunshine and harvest. We will remember to thank Him when we are in the valley of the shadow of death and feeling there is no sunshine, only sorrow.

LOVE IS WHAT GOD USES TO HEAL US.

[Love] ...it is an energy that is manifested by a commitment and a will to extend oneself for the purpose of nurturing one's own or another's total growth, which includes physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual dimensions.

Higher Levels of Love: p.133

• caring through conflict
• forgiveness
• trust
• commitment to growth in ourself and in a loved one
• unconditional empathy and acceptance
• pure peaceful BEING

Whitfield is the very best thing that came out of my counseling sessions with JF... A close second would be making the list of "What Children Need from Their Parents..."

I think that I put the skin on love after devouring Whitfield. It began with my parents, who did love me, and then my God the Father and Jesus my salvation. And, at 20 years old I was certainly "in love" with my young husband. From the moment of birth and before, I loved our son and daughter. But during this period in my life, I learned to define love and to practice love and to celebrate love of myself and of others. My heart began to grow.

I recognized that I had much growing to accomplish--I had learned years earlier that I was a "kid under construction" and not a finished product--signed, sealed, and delivered. I began to set goals for growth and to pray for growth in my loved ones. I adopted Paul's prayer for the Philippians as my prayer for my family...

My prayer for you is that you will overflow more and more with love for others, and at the same time keep on growing in spiritual knowledge and insight.
Philippians 1:9
Life Application Bible

And, Whitfield yet again, Love is what God uses to heal us.

THE CLOSET, PART 3

This is a different closet. My grandma's walk-in closet. I didn't know anyone ever, growing up, who had a walk-in closet, but my grandma did. She was precious and cherished by my grandpa. They met when he was 25 and she 15 years old. They dated for 10 years before they married--he was determined to build her a house before they married. And, he did. When the first floor was completed, they married. They lived in that house together 46 years and raised 3 daughters and 6 grandchildren. They had 8, but the other two had responsible parents.