One Full Life

About a month ago, April 14th to be exact, my 84 year old Granny left this earth for home. I had the privilege of being asked to honor her memory with an eulogy at the graveside. I thought I would share what I said as a way of catharsis for me and in honor again of her.

For those of you who knew her and loved her, hopefully this will resonate. For those of you who did not know her, hopefully this will give a brief portrait of her life. It is good to share those you love with the others you love.

ONE FULL LIFE
Dorotha Deene (Brown) Packer
Our Mom, Granny, Granny Great, Dot

It isn’t easy to stand here today, to stand here and speak about my Granny, to speak about her and know that she is no longer here with us. It is not easy to look at all of these faces of family and friends, many of whom knew Granny better than I did, had a longer history with her, spent day in and day out with her as Mom, or even knew her as Dorotha, a friend and confidant, not just as a family member. I am not sure I am really the best to do the speaking or if Granny would even want me to do it. But here I am…

“It’s not easy” is really a phrase that could be used to describe much of Granny’s life (honestly, most of our lives). Born into a time of great turmoil, a child of the Depression in many ways, Granny saw a life of toughness and difficulty early on. Her father and mother, Carl & Lou, struggled to make ends meet and did whatever it took to keep the family going and to keep it together. Digging ditches & graves, working multiples jobs and saving everything they could muster was not only common for the Brown Family but for nearly every family in this great generation. But they had each other through think & thin. Granny and her only sibling & older brother Carl, Jr., were close and I am sure it was so tough for her to see him go into the service for WWII. Then it wasn’t easy for Granny to suffer the loss of her life, her beloved mother, Granny only 16 years young and devastated for life. But, Granny persevered while her dad remarried to a family friend Ruth, and Junior returned from the war alive. Again, it wasn’t an easy life but they had each other and they made it work.

Then at the age of 19, Granny fell in love with a childhood friend, a boy, and yes I mean a boy, 17 to be exact, who stole her heart. Or maybe better put, she stole his heart because his was just so big. John B. Packer came onto the scene of Dorotha’s life and they were happily wed on August 20th, 1945 in Columbus, KS. Granddad, Dad, Pop, Johnny as we all know him differently and just the same, was a gigantic-softhearted, small statured military man, a young military man who had faked his age to get in the service and faked it once again so that he could marry his beautiful bride. Granny & Granddad started a life together then that could also be classified as “not easy”, but it was a long love affair with many ups & downs, many twists & turns, and most importantly a whole lot of unwavering support & love along the way. They lived all over the country due to Granddad’s military commission, from California to Seattle to Virginia to Camp Crowder and eventually Webb City. And along those travels much happened and much occurred, but one thing was constant, they loved each other through thick and thin.

Oh, and also along the way, Granny & Granddad started building a family. First, came the firstborn – naturally – Loudeene. She was their beautiful daughter who shared their hearts with no one for awhile, who helped hold down the fort with Granny while Granddad was overseas, and who walked the longest with them on this journey, sometimes even acting as a second mom to the others. This, by the way, was truly Granny & Granddad’s gift − having daughters − because in what probably felt like a few short years, they next brought Debbi into the world. Debbi was a hand full of energy, often running the neighborhood naked as a baby, and quick & independent from the start. Then, Gail came into their lives. She was an outwardly shy one who could steal your heart with her smile and played mischievously even from the beginning of her life. And while Granddad pined away for a little boy, they were surprised with their youngest, Johnna (my mom), finally named after Granddad because he & Gran knew that having girls was all they did. She was definitely the baby of the family, a beautiful baby of golden curls, a smart girl with deep compassion and an iron will of her own. And these girls, all four of them, through different eras, in different ways, and on different levels became the focus of Granny & Granddad’s life. And, it wasn’t easy…have you ever met these four sisters or spent a long night with them together, Dr. Pepper as their fuel? Trust me, it isn’t easy though it is often very funny. Then again, when is family life and raising kids while striving to stay true and strong for one another ever “easy”?

Through all of this life with Granddad & the girls, Granny was not only making a life as a wife and a mom, but she was also continuing to express herself as Dorotha. She was a tough and steadfast woman, and she was awfully creative as well. She constantly created, sewing dresses for the girls and herself, selling and painting with Artex for years, writing short stories and poems, and eventually baking & decorating cakes. The cake creating became a business, as she ran Cakes By Dorotha out of their home for years. Granny was also what you might call a wee bit competitive. She loved playing games and even a few sports. Gran played softball, bowled regularly, and played so many games and card games, no one on earth could record the hours she spent generally beating the pants off of Granddad, her girls, and their friends. Granny was full of life in these areas of creation & competition, and her life was full because of them.

Another part of life that changed was the introduction of grandkids…yea!! First came Misty via Debbi, a little girl that would later in life become one of Granny’s closet friends and confidants, in some ways a mirror of Granny, a woman that Granny really and truly loved & respected, and who with beloved husband Jeff gifted Granny with her first great-grandchildren, Michael & Page, christening a new title for Gran, Granny Great. Then came Brandy, via Loudeene − apparently the “girls only” motto was contagious even with the daughters − another little girl who Granny constantly bragged about, consistently declared as so beautiful and smart, who’s talents Granny took great pride in, and who she worried over & prayed for constantly though she lived far away and traveled the world over. Next in line was me, Ryan via Johnna, the first boy to enter this whole girlie mess (Granddad finally had an ally and a namesake!). And though I only have my own perspective to draw from, Granny seemed pretty proud of me, (especially of my choice of Ashley and my little daughter, Ellie, both of whom she loved dearly), and she and I spent a ton of time together as I was the only one that lived only fifteen minutes away my entire childhood. And finally the family was quickly rounded off by surprisingly, another boy, Corey via Gail, a boy who would be Granny’s late-in-life roommate, shared countless hours with her playing cards, eating “feesh”, sharing, and arguing, but who I know Granny was so proud of and who’s singing she cherished deeply in her heart. In every way, Granny had a full family of kids and grandkids, even great grandkids, that she loved so much, each in different ways and for different reasons. It wasn’t easy to keep track of them all, but somehow she did it.

As Granny grew older and life changed all around her, it didn’t all become roses. In fact, in a couple of heart-wrenching ways it became much more difficult. On December 28th, 1993, Granddad, Dad, her husband, her Johnny left this world suddenly. It was a devastating blow for us all, but most deeply felt by Granny. For years, they had struggled and loved their way through the war that is life. They argued, they hugged, they nagged, and they cared for. Granny had taken care of Granddad for so long with his health problems, and she was so very disappointed that they didn’t quite make the fifty year anniversary mark. For the family, we obviously lost a loving, big-hearted father, a doting joyful grandfather, and a caring Great-Granddad. We would all miss his snoring in his chair, Granny’s grinding plea “John B. go to bed!” (my apologies to Corey who imitates that better than anyone), and his ever-open arms for hugging. But none of us missed him more than Granny. She had lost her partner, her lover, her friend, her husband. And for a time, she seemed a bit lost. It wasn’t easy to set on this side of eternity while John had gone on without her. But in her normal way, Dorotha found her feet. She rebounded and her life continued, though she mourned Granddad’s passing every year, to the day.

Granny’s health changed not long after his departure as well. She had the first of several strokes to plague her later years, but before you lose heart too much, this did not stop Dorotha Deene. In fact, Granny’s life continued fabulously. After finally retiring from cake decorating, Granny found a new passion – greeting cards. She made them for everyone and every occasion. She collected and purchased more stamps & supplies for making cards than any one woman should be allowed. And she spent countless hours making cards for everyone she could think of. She had an elaborate set-up and an ironclad memory of who to make cards for and when. But most of all, Granny had found a new way to show her love. At times in life, I think Granny struggled with showing her love for one reason or another. I mean, we all knew she loved us, but showing it wasn’t always her strongest suit. Yet, as she aged and Granddad passed, the loving, caring side of Granny began to blossom even further. These cards were in specific ways an extension of that new love. She put thought into each card, she put sweat into each card, and she put her whole heart in each card. If you were fortunate enough to receive one, you know what I am talking about, and you had better cherish it. Granny meant what she said in those cards, even if it was a joke or silly saying. Who knew? In some ways, Granny’s cards may be more cherished in my heart and others than even her cakes were enjoyed.

And while I’m speaking about Granny’s love, I would be remiss to mention this: Granny’s life wasn’t easy, no doubt about it, but she never stopped having time for people who had a rough go of it as well. She befriended people who had troubles from early on in her life. To hear her daughters speak about it, Granny was always reaching out to the bedraggled and beat down. And, she had real friends, too. Close friends, not just play around friends but confidants and life-sharers, some of whom simply knew her as Dot. Ruby, Esther, Carol Jane, Barb, so many I can’t mention them all. She even had a close friend that really became more than a friend, really an honorary daughter, an adopted child, Shelia Ray. She did everything with these friends, she relied on these friends, and I think they relied on her, too. Also, I can’t forget her “sons”. From John “Denny” to Rick to Steve G. to Steve B. and even Greg – Granny loved them all like her own. I only really know my dad, Steve G’s relationship with her, but from that bond I know Granny treated him as her own and he loved her the same. They all did. From friends to friends of daughters to adopted daughters to son-in-law’s, there were strong bonds present that Granny loved and appreciated; and, the objects of her affections loved her right back.

As we all aged and Granny aged, after Granddad went home and Gran’s health changed drastically, I began to notice some changes, changes that really lasted until her final weeks. Granny’s physical life became difficult, definitely not easy. It isn’t easy when your lungs and your heart betray you. It isn’t easy when your once fiercely independent spirit is dampened by the onslaught of time. But as always, Granny made a way of it. She did it with a lot more help this time around, but she carried on. And as I have said I observed her love became more outwardly expressive and evident these last years, I also noticed that her reliance on others became more evident as well. Nowhere was that open reliance more evident to me than her relationship with the Father Above. Granny consistently stated her love of God and her reliance on prayer, Christ’s compassion for her life. She said things frequently to me on the phone about how she was thankful God had given her more time. She mentioned that it was His Strength that brought her through many of these tough times. And she constantly relayed that she was praying for me. She thought of us all often, and I began to notice more and more that her thoughts turned to prayer. She was relying on her Father to take her burdens more and the burdens of her loved ones. I know because she did this for me.

As I went through a difficult time of anxiety & panic attacks, Granny called me. In fact, I talked to her several times during that period. She called me to check on me, just to see how I was doing. She was worried. She cared. She loved me. And her answer was not “tough it out” or “you’ll be fine, it will pass” – her answer was something new, “I’m praying for you Ryan. I know it’s hard. Turn to God. Rely on Jesus.” Those were her words on a hushed phone call one evening, not mine. And she followed it up with a simple gift of encouragement that I hold dear to this day. Every devotional I use has the same bookmark now with this simple scripture card that quotes Philippians 4:4-7: “Rejoice in the Lord always, I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer & petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” Granny underlined “Do not be anxious for anything” and she signed the back “Love You!! Granny, 2007”. Granny had changed lately, and it was a change for the better. Despite all of the difficulties of her health and the mileage of painful years, Granny began to truly find her home in the Everlasting Arms of Jesus. She began to relax a little more in Him. Don’t get me wrong – she was still a firebrand of independence even in the hospital these last few weeks, but her heart had changed. I think she had a real face-to-face with the Grace of Christ and the Peace of His Presence.

So, today we say goodbye to Dorotha, Dot, Granny, Granny Great, Mom. Today we pay our respects and we express our love. And it isn’t easy. It isn’t easy to let go, especially from someone we all want to hold so tightly to. But it is life − and that is the point. This IS LIFE. It isn’t easy. It stinks at points, it hurts often, it devastates you sometimes, and it grinds you under foot frequently. BUT it is also a life worth the living, really living. It’s worth it because of the love, the love that is shared in Christ’s Grace, in the embrace of a parent, the joy of a friend, the kiss of a spouse, and the group hug that is family. And, guess what? Though it wasn’t easy for Granny from cradle to grave, it was a life FULL of all of these things. ALL OF THESE THINGS. She had a great life, a long life, a GRAND life. And now her life has continued to an even better place. The morning of her passing, I had a wonderful vision in my mind of her spreading her arms in a field of purple flowers, taking a huge breath, a great breath that no longer hurt, that was full, and that was filled her with air that you and I could only dream. You see, Granny had a life…it wasn’t easy, but it was FULL of love. And she was thankful always to the Father of Life, just listen to this poem she wrote years ago:

THANKS GOD
Saying Thank You God
Seems so little to say
For all the things
We have today.

Our homes and cars
Trains and planes
All our new and modern things.

Thank You God
For the Peace you hold,
Without your love
Our world would fold.

Thank You God
For my husband dear.
And four lovely daughters
That I can hold near.

Thanks for the rain
The absence of pain,
The sun at day
And moon at night
Leaving the world so wonderfully bright.

Thank you God
For all my friends
And thank you for
Your love You send.

My small thanks will
Always ring
So I Thank You God
For everything.

I’ll miss you Granny, we all will…but thanks for letting me share in your life and for being a huge part of mine. Until we meet again, give Granddad hugs & kisses from us all.

Keep This In Mind At All Times

"Of all tyrannies, a tyranny sincerely exercised for the good of its victims may be the most oppressive. It would be better to live under robber barons than under omnipotent moral busybodies. The robber baron's cruelty may sometimes sleep, his cupidity may at some point be satisfied; but those who torment us for our own good will torment us without end for they do so with the approval of their own conscience."

God In The Dock: Essays On Theology & Ethics
1970-71
C. S. Lewis

I have nothing more to add...just listen to the wisdom of a master and apply where necessary.

Risky Business

The Storm On The Sea Of Galilee

Rembrandt, 1633

The haunt of risk is ever present. It is the specter that shadows our living days. Yet if we will but accept this ghost, then our life shall be rich with life indeed.

Risk is indeed what rules our life. Everything we do involves it, everything we think dwells on it. We consider the cost at every turn. When we love, when we hate, when we play sports as out of shape old men, when we sign up to fly half way across the world to watch international soccer in South Africa, when we drive to the store, when we love, when we lose a job and search for a new one, when we dare to enter into a relationship with the Father of the Universe. Oh, did I mention, when we love? All is fraught with danger. And yet that danger, that risk, is what makes life worth the living. Isn’t it?

The payoff of risk is prosperity and life or poverty and death. And oddly, each of these options can be both good and bad in turn. Start with an obvious example of risk. If you risk your money on the stock market (called “investing” by those wanting your money) and end up with millions over many years, you have a cushy life and a secure future. All is well and some of the worries of life are alleviated with cash. But what if those riches make you a monster, a godless man with no direction, no love, no joy. To quote P. Diddy or Puff or Sean Jean or whatever the crap that no-talent hip-hopper calls himself now, “Mo money, mo problems.” Greed and avarice are old vices that have never left the human condition and never will. Money and riches can be wonderful though, especially in the hands of one who is humble and generous. And, still it can destroy even the best of people if they serve it and lust after it and put all of their life’s blood into it. That’s risk – an easy example we all know.

Ever had a pet? A dog or a hamster or a bunny (no, cats don’t count – you are their pet). You love on that animal as a kid like you love on a silly stuffed bear. Tugging on it, riding it, petting it too hard. But amazing miracle of life, the little critter loves you back. They lick your face or nibble food out of your very hand. And at the end of a long day, they lay by you on the couch watching baseball, letting you stroke them and pick off their loose hair. They bark to tell you danger is near and they run the yard with you, playing games and just being goofy together. Then they get old and crotchety. The dog gets hunched and surly, and the hair gets white and stiff around their little eyes and lips. And one day they slip away with age, either induced by drugs or by God’s course of time. And yet, maybe they don’t make it that far. What if they die early, not long after you get them? You might have left the bunny in the freezing cold too long. Or, the gate was open and you didn’t know it – pup gone roaming forever, and not even potty trained. But was that short or lengthy time with that surprising gift of Father worth it? Yeah, I think so.

How about this one? You plan a trip to Brazil and have the time of your life visiting an amazing world of color and culture and life. You go to France and finally explore the European landscape you had always desired. Both, either/or, are great options. Simply vacations of your lives. But then you get on a plane and it goes down over the Atlantic for no apparent reason. Your life is now over. Ended. And, all of your family and friends are left holding the bag of grief and sorrow. You took a risk by simply traveling, getting out and seeing God’s green earth. And that risk has now come home to roost. The worst has happened and you are gone. Or, the most normal and typical alternative: you arrive home, safe and sound with hundreds of pictures on your camera and stories to last a lifetime. You risked travel and received an enriched view of the world in which we live (and some good old fashioned fun, too).

Or what about this scenario? You meet a kid in grade school, become best friends slowly over school, go to college as roommates, have him as your best man in your wedding, and consider him a life-long traveler on your road to the dead end. Then freakish tragedy strikes: he’s in a motorcycle accident or a car accident or a terminal disease strikes him or his breathing stops in the night because his weight has become a little out of control. He’s gone and it’s over. And now all of that time and love you spent on your relationship is a fatality. It is forever ended, stopped by the ceasing of a beating heart. And what are you left with? Longing, sorrow, grief, feelings of fear, emotions of being alone. Yes, you do. And that’s the risk. But there is another side to it. You have the memories, too. You have the shared-life that no one knows but you and no one can take away. You have a picture of existence that is deepened and widened because he was a friend. You have memories of soccer matches won & loss, new music discovered, good books reviewed, love discussed, and the problem of the universe debated. You have all of that, and you will never give it up…because you risked. It was worth it. No question - it was worth it, despite any temporary pain.

Good Lord in Heaven, what about children? Wow, what a risk and a trial and a blessing and a ridiculously amazing love affair. They come out of nowhere to possess your whole world and to take a stranglehold on your heart. They make you stay up terrible hours, wake you up earlier than you want to be or have to be, and take away your wife over and over again. The family dynamic is suddenly turned on its head and you get the leftovers. But oh what joyous leftovers: a little person that loves you for no other reason than you are there; a little girl that wants to spend time with you no matter what; a little angel that tugs your heart into realms you never knew existed. And when the first words “I love you” or “I’m glad you are my daddy” come your way unbidden, hold on because you just received a glimpse of the joy of heaven only Father can conceive. But all is not rosy, let no one tell you otherwise. Your kids will drive you nuts as well, to cliffs of anger and frustration that you never knew existed either. And, you never know what is going to happen with kids. They may show up with an incurable ailment. They may only live ten, twenty, thirty years on this earth. Maybe not even that long. They may lead lives of craziness, of lust, of pain, of teenage pregnancy, of stupid ideology, of total disregard for you. And they may be perfectly normal, adjusted and by your bedside. But you will never know how it will happen and how it will end. And you will also never know one of the greatest joys and graces of life if you don’t risk letting a little one come along and join your journey. I’ll take those odds – with fear and trembling.

Oh, and the ultimate risk: marriage. Falling in love, giving yourself over fully to another flesh-and-blood, messed-up and flawed woman who you can’t live without or stand to let out of your head. Her beauty is astounding and she is the best friend you could ever have. A perfect match, a perfect gift of grace. But that loving is tough, too. Tough because it is risk. Rejection looms, distrust threatens, betrayal is possible, and constant discovery of new peccadilloes and character traits are challenging. Your spirit yearns for her and your heart is completely and utterly caught-up, and yet with fear and trepidation every new situation or disease or circumstance brings a possibility of strain, of even outright pain. Life is long, but with another who is your one-and-only girl, it is wonderfully comfortable and true. It is pain-filled yes, and it is even scary often – but it is great and awesome and grace-on-a-stick. But it is all risk. Cancer comes and destroys, mental disease invades and takes away memories, hearts give out, and eventually all will be taken down in one way or another by this fallen world’s curse of death. And it doesn’t always come when you are old and resting in a home; it often strikes people before they have kids, right after, or when their youngest is graduating college. The communion of marriage is the ultimate experience of life, and it is not bereft of risk. Yet, it is my favorite risk to have taken, much because my wonderful “other” loves me for no good reason and took the chance “to back a horse that’s good for glue and nothing else” nearly ten years ago. (Thanks honey.) It is one of the few endeavors that I am ultimately confident in. Bad possibilities are possible, but the good is simply too strong to fail.

And so, with all of this said, would you take any of it back or never even try it to begin with? Would you stop any of the trips, stop planning for your future, stop loving on dogs, finding friends, raising babies, and making love? I hope you say no. I do. Or more truly, I am learning to. The fear of risk, anomalous scenarios, and simply death in general terrify me. In so many scenarios they rule me. But I am learning to overcome. Funny thing is I am learning to take the risk because of another risky proposition: entering and accepting our Father’s Love & Grace. I can hear a few saying here we go again, but it is simply the truest thing I can say. Not a simple salvation message or a typical God-talk – no, something much deeper. As I further my totally open & true honesty with the Father of the universe, I find myself. I find that there is no risk in some parts of this relationship, mainly because He is so good and so not human, not me. He has no faults, no errors, no betrayals, no fears. And He is Love. Amazing, terrifying, untamable, ever-pursuant, never shocked and never surprised Love. He knows me better than me, and He still loves this beaten-down, tired old boy. He even loves who I truly am, who I want to be, who He knows I can and will be. He is the irrepressible Hound of Heaven. And I am secure in Him.

Yet other aspects of relationship with Father are indeed risky to our broken perception. This is almost entirely because we are called to die. We are called to death. I don’t like that – not one little bit. Scares me and invades my ever-present need for control. He wants me to do what – die? But what does that mean, you say and I say? Well, yes it includes things such as holiness and right living and all of that good ol’ religion stuff, but I am finding that it means a whole crap-load more. He wants me to die to the personality that enslaves me: the things that are in me as a result of living in this fallen world, having on this flesh and blood. It’s more than just sins of the flesh, it is the core of who we are that he wants us to find. For me, some of this Holy Death means giving up my fear, giving up my need to perform, ending my need to succeed, trusting (oh, trusting - the hardest part) Him with my life and my family’s life, relinquishing the pressure I put on myself to be perfect, and realizing who He truly is and what I am truly am and am not. Death in God means realizing finally that the grim reaper catches us all in the end, so why not truly live, and live fully in Him, while we have a breath left in our skin? As my friend WK asks, "Are you living with a disastrous death in mind or will you die having lived a glorious life?" We obsess about the risk of death (literally and figuratively), when in truth it will all end one day no matter. But that’s okay, because I know Who is in control. And if I will just give up now, and let Him have me, then the risk won’t be so burdensome, so entirely consuming.

That’s just it, in an odd way. It all comes back to risk. Father’s graceful call to death is a call to life. We know this, Christ said it. But, we don’t know what all it means. A lot of it means what I said above. Then again, a lot of it will be totally different for you. And even more so, a bunch of it is yet to be discovered on the Road. And the Road He calls us to? To live a life full of risk and understand that it is that very risk that gives life and a life abundantly full of Grace. You must risk to die, and you must risk to truly live. This is the paradox of life in Him. And it is in the paradox that Truth resides. Life is risk and risk is indeed life.

Courage is almost a contradiction in terms. It means a strong desire to live taking the form of a readiness to die. "He that will lose his life, the same shall save it"...This paradox is the whole principle of courage; even of quite earthly or quite brutal courage. A man cut off by the sea may save his life if he will risk it on the precipice...A soldier surrounded by enemies, if he is to cut his way out, needs to combine a strong desire for living with a strange carelessness about dying. He must not merely cling to life, for then he will be a coward, and will not escape. He must not merely wait for death, for then he will be a suicide, and will not escape. He must seek his life in a spirit of furious indifference to it; he must desire life like water and yet drink death like wine.

Orthodoxy

Chapter VI: The Paradoxes of Christianity

G.K Chesterton, 1909

Quit Your BM, and P

It occurred to me many times over the past month that I had not blogged. (I didn't know it had been this long!) I thought of many things to write about, and many things on which to opine - but I never did. I'm not sure why completely, but I know one good reason...I didn't want to write another huge rant about the country, politics, or even current issues. I have grown weary of them. And yet, I continued to obsess over them. That is a real problem for me. If something, anything gets into my head, I can't flush it out quick enough. It sticks around for far too long. Presumably, one of the many reasons I blog, right? But I couldn't do it these past weeks. I couldn't continue to rant & rave, though I had much to go on and on about. I mean the election, the economy, job worries, the economy, energy crisis, the economy, bogus climate change, the economy...and oh did I mention, the economy (you know, the part of our world that is in a difficult time, but not Depression-era times or even Carter-era times despite the pundits). Anyway, I just decided I didn't want to write about those depressing & trying topics again.

And yet...I couldn't shake it. I was obsessed. I read the newspapers, watched the news (a pastime I normally hate), listened to political talk radio, and generally became either angry or sad or just plain frustrated. But then a little Voice began to talk to me. Typical. After awhile with any topic, that Voice tends to creep up and speak the real Truth I need to hear. This time it was a weird and still familiar message: Quit your BM and P.

I know, I know: does Father really talk to you like that? With a potty mouth? (oooohhh...funny pun alert!) Why yes, in fact, He does. Often. Gets to the point with me - very quickly - just depends on if I am listening. And I heard it loud and clear. But to those not initiated to my strange inter-dialogue (who is but me?), here's the translation:

"Quit your bitchin' & moanin' Ryan, and pray."

Uggghhh. I wish I hadn't been listening. I have heard this one before and I don't really like it. Not because I don't value prayer; not because I don't believe in prayer; not even that I am so consumed with life & issues that I never think to pray. The truth is I do believe it is essential & effective, and I even dialogue with Father often, conversationally. But to actually make time for private prayer, closet prayer - I have never been good at it. I have never been truly disciplined or consistent with it. I can count mere months out of my life where I was pretty darn consistent, but it always faded. And I don't like that at all. I hate failure. With all of my being. You see to me, if I don't stick to it "all of my days", if I don't give it my all, then it isn't right. And if it isn't right, then it isn't perfect. And if it isn't perfect, well then I lose my cool.

Aspects of prayer have always stuck in my crawl. I can't logically justify petitionary prayers to Father who already knows all and sees all. I love the idea of contemplative prayer, meditation, adoration, exultation, and of course conversation. But, asking for things or about things...it bothers me. No, it isn't because I think so little of myself or the act. I know better - Jesus commanded it - and, I am not so thick. It's something else. Philosophical. But I am getting older and I have learned my lessons well. I embrace mystery so much better now that I am older and dumber. Philosophy takes up less of my time. I realize I don't have to know it all. I just need to do and listen. I think that is all prayer (life with God for that matter) really requires in the end.

And I know why Father says it to me when I am on a rampage of paying too much attention. He knows what's best for me. He knows that I have to release the inner turmoil. He knows I need to cry out to someone, and the best Someone is Him. He knows that I must let go or pay the price. My mental, physical, emotional, and spiritual short-circuit-overload is His concern. And of course, He knows above all else, that He is what I need. And prayer is the avenue to Presence. It is the way to be in dependence, not independence.

And that is what the "P" He is prescribing really is: "Stop complaining and moaning and crying and obsessing and being smitten with the grief of the world. Lay down and be enveloped in Me. Tell Me your fears. Ask Me for your needs and even your wants. Shout out your complaints and your anger. I know the beginning and the end. Heck, I AM the Beginning & the End. Simply stop your mind and rest it upon Me. That's what prayer is Son: Dependence. Taking advantage of our re-established line of communication."

So I am listening, Father. I am trying. The drugs of politics, issues, and mayhem are wearing off. My rehab has begun. I have sworn off Drudge, Rush, and Bloomberg. I am trying to diligently take Your prescription. Just be patient with me...I am desperately clinging to mystery instead of an overloaded need for human reason. It's a balance, and I am searching.

And wouldn't you know it, in that searching, it is treasures that I find. Exhibit A, the monk painting above (Monk in Prayer, Edouard Manet): fortuitous, odd, and random. I simply discovered it on a google search; but you know what, I think Father let me find it. He at least gave me the thought of what it means to little ole me. The monk sees the world. He has it right in front of his face. He is not hiding his head in the sand and avoiding the truth (no one should pull an ostrich-pose). He sees life & death and it confronts him face to face, skull to skull. But, instead of obsessing or intricately studying it's imperfections or complex chemistry, this man of the robe turns his face toward heaven. He opens his hands to the One who made it all. He knows where his foundation lies. And he responds to Him not the troubles of his life. I don't know what he is saying. I don't know the man, or the French painter for that matter. But I know what is okay to say to Father in prayer: anything. Just say it. Say anything. Let loose. Father is here, and you are here. Cast your cares of the world & life upon Him. Just let loose and know. Find your freedom through your dependence.

Partake of His Mysteries often,
often as you can, for in Them you find
your sole, entire remedy...
Jesus has not
impressed this hunger in your heart for nothing.
- St. Therese of Lisieux

It is the prayer of agony which saves the world.
- St. Mary of Jesus

To clasp the hands in prayer is the beginning of an uprising against the disorder of the world.
- Karl Barth

True, whole prayer is nothing but love.
- St. Augustine

The Source

My stomach is reeling after a week of obsessively watching election coverage. I can't believe what is happening before our very eyes. Most people are worried about their money - about the stock exchanges complete plummet and abysmal credit situations. But, I am not worried about that. I find myself comfortable with economic woes as I know it will get better. This is the nature of a capitalistic system: ups and downs, losses and gains. It's natural, normal, and corrective. But, the scary aspect now - it seems the solutions being used by our government and endorsed by our majority public are socialistic in nature. Bailouts & more entitlements: we haven't learned. We don't want anyone, no matter how guilty they are, to pay for their mistakes and irresponsibility. I say let them fail, let them hang in their self-created noose (yes, even the general public), because sometimes punishment & consequences are the only real way we learn our lessons well. Been there. See, I'm not worried about the economics because I am responsible, and most of those I love are as well. We will lose for awhile, but soon we will be just fine.

My biggest worry, as you can tell from my last post, is the seismic shift I see in our governmental (& economic) philosophy. We are kissing capitalism goodbye; we are dismissing the idea of government by the people for the people and welcoming government by government for government's sake; and we are scorning our principles of liberty & freedom. Our pursuit of happiness is being replaced with the guarantee of goodies for all, at what cost? You earn what you have in this world - it is not handed to you by the all-powerful government. In part, we used to believe in effort because it weeded out the bad and encouraged the good. We also passionately defended the effort, the pursuit in order to secure an individualism, not a government figure. You see, the result of the government growing and expanding and guaranteeing is simple - rule by the government. And when that bloated government has a leader that finally decides he's had enough of his constraints, what little are left, well then he takes over. The government becomes all-encompassing, all-powerful, all-judging, and it deems the reality of our lives. This is why I contend socialism always leads to communism/fascism. They will expand now, and take over later. It seems equal and beautiful and fair in the beginning. But in the end, the historic record shows it always leads to misery.

So that is the heavy burden on my head, and many others. The junk that I can't get over at night when I lay down to sleep. My anxiety is a constant battle, and these types of situations sure don't help. But this week I have been confronted by the still, small Voice within. It has been whispering in the night, and ending the sentences of complaint during the day. It goes something like this lately:

Who is your Source? Who is your Provision? From whence does your Freedom come? Your concern is valid and your fight is noble, but do not forget your Bedrock. Do not lose site of your Battlements. Remember your High Tower and your Fortress. He sustains. He protects. He makes the worries of the world fall away by the breeze of Hope. He secures you in an embrace of Freedom. He is the Grace of each day and evermore. He is the King of the universe, everlasting, not just lifetime-long. The Sacrifice of the Son is the purchase of our Freedom. Remember your Source. Father is your Source.

Well okay then. I see how it goes. I can process that resolution. I can comprehend that idea. I can even believe it from an intellectual perspective. But the question is do I truly believe it? Does it really resonate into my very being, you know the stuff that is eternity-bound?

Frankly, I'm not sure. All I know is that I am working on it. I am pounding it in my stupid little head, and I am repeating it for perfection. I'm working out yet another part of my salvation. And the work is not easy in this world we call home. It's not really even that fun. But it is fundamental. And, when it sinks in just a wee bit - it is perspective shifting, hope-inducing, life-altering stuff.

So if the headlines are getting you down; if the news doesn't bother you but the minor tragedies of your everyday life do; if the world is crouching at your back to pounce; or if you are simply tired of the walk, take this as a reminder, (God knows I need it often):

He is the Source. Rely on the Source. Depend on the Source. There is no independence from the Source that doesn't result in death. Delve in to Him. Settle in and relax; there is nothing without a source, and Father is the Origin of us all & the Provider of the fabric of life. If the Source is for you & loves you, what can come against you and prevail? Nothing. Take heart & bear down in the Fortress of His Love & Resolve. Revel in the Source. Hope in the Source. Be still and know...the Source.

POST SCRIPT: Interesting how it all works sometimes. I wrote the above yesterday, and this morning, this is the music I was welcomed with at New Life, "Rescue Me" by Jared Anderson:
You are the source of life
I can't be left behind
No one else will do
I will take hold of You
Hmmm...interesting & compelling. Thanks for the nod up there.

The Space Between

Sometimes, events happen all at once, and they hit you in the face and remind you about life. Last month was one of those punches to the jaw. And my jaw of late has been glass.

Earlier in August there was an important date that passed and I did not comment on it. I should have, but frankly, I didn't feel the desire. I didn't feel like it, but I am disappointed in myself. That date, the eighteenth, as many of you may have guessed was the one year anniversary of Dan's passing. Dan Feather, my best friend and brother of another mother. One year ago...very strange how time passes. And how much time heals, and yet, not so much. I still miss him, I still feel pain for his family at every passing thought of them, and I still feel that Father has given me a great comfort & peace regarding him. And yet, I still miss his company - greatly.

Another event took place this year around that same day, and it was another tragedy. Ashley's & my campus pastor from college, Joe Zickafoose, died at the young age of 50 from aggressive bone marrow cancer. He left behind a wife and two boys, 14 & 16. My heart was exploding with the pain for those boys; and, although the funeral was a wonderful celebration of Joe's life and impact, it still took my breath away. It still made me wish I had known him more. It made me regret never putting myself out there to develop a relationship with Joe. My loss - he was a man worth knowing deeper.

And still another moment happened this past August. My parents celebrated their 35th wedding anniversary. This was a happy celebration, an amazing feat, and a proud moment for them and for me. It is a reminder of love and of it's importance and longevity. My parents have seen a lot of stuff in their day from happiness and tragedy, but they have stayed together through it all. Thick & thin.

So two tragic reminders of life's frailty, and one reminder of love & beauty. That's what was on my plate at the end of the month. And, not surprising at all, it began to wear at my feeble mind. The grief wore me down and the joy was somehow flip-flopped into a sorrow, as I realized that my parents were getting older. Life keeps moving, and I had a few more than subtle reminders.
So with the stress & anxiety percolating in my mind, I talked with a friend (WK) and he had an interesting thought. My friend planted the seed of an idea, but now I have taken it further.

Separation. Separation anxiety is some of what I was feeling. Maybe even all of it. But separation is nothing new for me. In fact, it is nothing new for us all. For that, is exactly what life is - separation. We are born by cell separation. We are separated from our mothers at birth. We grow up and leave our parents altogether, putting miles between us. We go to work and separate ourselves from our family, and we leave work and put space between our business relationships, even our friends. When we have kids, they grow up slowly & quickly, and the process is all about separation. And, in the end, we all die - separating the spirit & soul from the body, leaving this earth and everyone we knew behind, ending our relationship with the only reality we thought we understood. And that is what I fear. I fear that I will be separated from everything dear to me, like Dan, like Joe. I know that time keeps its steady march, and that I will be separated from even more loved ones, my parents being part of that group. I know all of these finite times will die away, and my knowledge haunts me. It puts me in a box of fear. The fear ties me up with worry. The worry can make me physically ill. But that is not how it is normally dealt with by people - it is usually ignored. I am not saying my obsession with separation is healthy - quite the contrary. But it is imperative that we understand separation is real and an ever-present fact of life. And it is not always punctual or polite. It strikes when all is well, and it hits when all is wrong.

But as I thought through this separation - I have thought about another physical principle of the universe, even the linguistic implications of the word. Separation implies a once coming-together, a joining. For two bodies to be separated, they must have once been together. And it is that together that creates the dichotomy of life. Togetherness is the other side of this coin.
To be born, our parents must come together. A sperm & egg must link. A mother & her child must link via the umbilical cord. For the separation of kids & their parents through the normal channel of life, they must come together in love & relationship. Finding the love of your life is the great coming together. And out of that love, often a new life is even born. Then, when that life comes to be in your home, you can't help but build an everlasting bond of love with them. And even in the end of this life, when separation is the focus, there is a reminder of togetherness - for if you had never been a part of this reality, leaving it would not have mattered. Together is the reciprocal of separation - or vise versa, maybe better put.

As always though, both of these principles have their beginning in one single Truth - the most important aspect of our being - our relationship with Father. Creation was about togetherness - we with Him. The creation of woman from man had separation in part, but a coming together of the purest human love in the end. The Fall was definite separation, but the promise of Abraham brought man back together with His Creator, although in a limited capacity. I won't trifle with all of the details as I am already too long-winded for most of you, but in the end came One who separated Himself from Father, so that His sacrifice, death & resurrection (separation & togetherness), could bring us fully together with Abba Father once more. Like it's supposed to be. And that's the Truth of it all - ultimate togetherness. Communion is restored.

Yet despite knowing that fact and even rejoicing in that truth, it is a struggle for us all (most principally me) to deal with separation and to live in real communion. It's our greatest task in life, maybe even the crux of life. We must learn to live with the gaps and try to grow in the relationships we have. That includes man to man relationships and Father to child relationships. That's what it is truly all about. But it is hard, and it sucks, and sometimes it seems the absence of another or the space between is far too wide, forever long. The space between appears insurmountable. It appears the space between is the only place we exist - completely separate.

However, that is not true. I can't believe I, of all people, am saying this, but it is my foothold on this slippery slope. No - total separation is not true. For because where there is separation there is togetherness. And where there is a beginning, there is an end. And guess what? I know, deep in my soul, that end equals togetherness. Communion. Love. When the space between seems infinitely wide, uncrossable, remember that fact. We will be together again. Take it to the bank. The space between will disappear into the embrace of together.

We Know Everything

"We've got everything down to a science, so I guess we know everything

We know everything
We know everything

We know everything was built to expire, so I guess we've done everything"
~ Modest Mouse ~

"We've Got Everything" from We Were Dead Before The Ship Even Sank

As always with lyrics and art, you never know what was truly in the mind of the artist when he penned his words or lifted her brush. It's something you just try to decipher or you simply apply what you conjure to what they created. It is the true magic of art, of creation - it can hold meanings deep and wide, or it can simply be a catchy tune, a beautiful decoration. I quoted Modest Mouse above because I think I know what they are saying. I think I at least know what I hear them saying in this catchy refrain. And, it is something I have been contemplating the past couple of days.

Isn't it just like us, we desperately-grasping humans? We get everything down to a scientific explanation, then we back off. Why? Because then we know it. I mean we really know it. Isn't that exactly what we were taught? Find the answer, then be done with it. Find the law of thermodynamics, memorize it, then forget about it because now you know. It's a Western European idea of Enlightenment and Industrialization. "We can discover all there is in the universe, and then we can build a machine to manipulate it and do the work for us." That truly is a familiar refrain in our society, even if we don't say those very words. Or we take up the new banner of truth today - we know it is all destined for the dirt-nap, so why do anything more?

I do it. I put everything in a schedule, in its right place, then life is okay - it is tolerable. And, most importantly, I can control it. That's it, isn't it? The conundrum of our existence - control? We want it, we need it, we will do anything to have it. That includes self-delusion and the deception of reason & logic. Reason & Logic are in fact the bedrock foundations of our society and for most, our very lives. Not that we use pure reason, no that is part of the problem. We twist it to meet our needs. We even do that it scientific circles, using only data that supports our claims; ignoring the research and ever-expanding findings of others. We do it in relationships - reasoning away what you do to others, or even reasoning the abuse of others toward you. Logic says that if not this, then that - black or white - right or wrong. If you are here, you are not there. But somewhere in my coping mind, a deeper Truth seems to be peeking through.

But before that Truth bangs out of my head, often times I answer with my generation: "who really cares?" I mean, it's all "set to expire", so what does it mean anyway. This is a convenient purpose for apathy, for inaction, for cynicism. It is the tonic that takes away our fear of losing control, of living in a world we don't really understand. Our generation has figured out many of the old lies, and we have seen that we don't know it all, but our response is in two directions: the first seems to be a return to the temples of Reason & Logic. Or, the second is to adopt an unbreakable philosophy of "who cares...we'll never know anything...just do what you want." Both are devastating, and I can give testimony.

Reason & Logic should never be the pillars, though surely they are needed. Instead, Grace should be the foundation. Grace pushes us to experience more, to be "out there, and loving it". It makes us see that there is more to this world than meets the eye, and just when we think we have it all down, Grace shows us something or someone more. Grace is ensconced by faith, hope, and love. And I submit a profound element of all of these is Mystery. Because guess what kids, we don't have it all figured out. We don't have it all down to a science that is infallible. I mean, gravity is only a theory. Quantum mechanics threw a wrench in all that we knew of physics. Evolution is only a theory, and happens to have as many holes as the best swiss cheese. (Oh and by the way, so does intelligent design theory.) And on a personal level, we think we have it all figured out and planned, then life & environment step in. Friends are paralyzed for life, family members have cancer, your job disappears into the abyss of economy, and your best friend dies suddenly, tragically. But this is not a pity party, this is just an eye opener...we can get everything down to a science. And if we do, we will stifle all that is good in life as our findings will be proved wrong and our controlled experiments will be failed by an unthinkable variant.

And if you adopt the attitude of expiration, you will miss life too. If all you see is death and apathy, you will miss the entire boat of life's enjoyment. Reason, logic, and an understanding of our finite position are all good things, but they can't be the driving force. Discovery, creation, exploring, loving, giving - those are the forces that should drive our life. Fatalism & cynicism will only choke the sometimes minute, but oh-so-good that can be found in a world of pain.

The point is, we don't know it all, and we don't need to. Whatever modicum of control we think we have, is "just blowin' in the wind". And our knowledge of the fragility of life, and our Reason & Logic, they will never provide the peace we desire. But the answer is simply surrender. It takes a lot of guts to do (and I can't do it very well at all), but I know it is the only way. It's admitting we don't know everything. Now listen, the religious will tell you all of this surrender business as well, but then they will direct you to their by-laws and their litanies of control - and yet another institution will bow you to its altar, just like science, Reason & Logic. But there is One who is bigger than us in charge of it all, and He is even outside of it all. We won't quantify Father - we won't even box Him in with theologies & dogma, biblical science. I AM has no definition within finite terms.

So the next time we think we know everything and we grasp to control the corner slice of life that we were served, we must remember - He is the one doing the cooking here. Abba chuckles as we discover His creation, and weeps when we stop trying to find more of Him. And I have found, He is frustrated even more by our wish to control, our need to play the obstinate, independent child. Trust me, I do it more than any other. So despite all of our science, Reason & Logic, pseudo-controls, and knowledge of how it all ends, Grace still abounds and Mystery truly rules the day.

Begrudgingly, Father is the only one who has got everything down to a science.
And I guess He knows everything.

Of Names & Titles

Well, why the title indeed.
It is quite simple, it is me in my full phases, waxing & waning.

Garrett being the area of my life that is normal, that is what I am and what you see. It is the mundane, the calmed, the typical of my existence.

Moony being the what I wish to be. It is the powerful and the fantastical. The me that I wish I was, the me that I wish I could be. It owes it's title to Lupin, and does imply my dual nature as well. The caring, unassuming man within me and the angry beast that lies under fathoms like the leviathan of Melville's deep.

And then JackMouth, the me that is ridiculous. In an ignorant, playful manner, and yet also a diabolical way, it is the stupid of my intellect, the anger of my mind, and even the humor of my personality. And in truth, a creation of my own dumb mouth.

In total, the names and titles are simple - they are the war of my inner being. Both my sinful and natural man, and my redeemed, grace-drenched spirit who is yet but trapped by this world of physicality and flesh. For a more clear picture, see the masterpieces of Robert Louis Stevenson & Mary Shelley. Or simply read the words of Moses, David, Paul, Augustine, Lewis or Manning. It is not an original thought, just my attempt to represent the existence I perceive and experience.

In the end, jackmouth is my silly and pain full side of true life; moony is my desire for something more and powerful; and, garrett is just simply me - the identity I claim and cling to here on this earth, because it is all I know.

Welcome to it all...my ramblings, proclamations, thoughts, fears, faiths, and soapboxes. I hope you enjoy some of it. I hope you cringe at some of it. And most of all, I hope it makes you think, reflect, laugh, and search. For the search is all we have until the ultimate adventure takes us home...