Monday, July 28, 2014

Walk It Out

I have entered that time of life when the "middle ages" have a different meaning.  I have come to think that it refers less to an era of time or a time of life than it does to the middle of the body.  All the weight that was spread throughout my body all my life, has now decided to settle on the equator.  I used to be able to exercise for a couple of weeks, eat a bit healthier, and see that weight redistribute itself to its appropriate latitude and longitude!

These days, it seems that the more I walk and eat nutritious food, the more stubborn the battle is for middle ground--if you know what I mean?  Continental drift has a new definition as well!  :o)

I have noticed the same is true for things of the spiritual life.  In the past, it seemed that if I felt I was "settling" in my relationship with God, a few days of intensified reading of Scripture and a few added minutes of prayer would set things back into proper order.  The fire would rekindle, and all was well.


Lately, I have noticed the need for my effort.  Not that I am trying to "work" to please God.  I'm just noticing that additional reading and prayer are good, but not quite enough.  There is a deeper longing in my heart to return to the intimate relationship I know God wants, and a healthier lifestyle of letting Him be God in my life as He desires.

There is a spirituality called the "Ignatian Spirituality," which is worked out in "Spiritual Exercises."  As I wrote in my last post, there can be a Christian life of "coasting along in the rowboat," but progress is made by taking up the oars.  Whether I walk the way of the Ignatians or forge along another path, the important thing is to never get settled in the middle ground.

Physical fitness requires a discipline of mind, body, and eating habits.  So too, spiritual fitness requires a discipline of mind, body, spirit, and eating habits.

Let's get moving!

Saturday, July 26, 2014

When He Speaks

The big day--June 17, 1989
Newly weds!  circa 1991

25 years and still in love



Got to meet Paula in person!  Yay!

For those who aren't aware, I was away on vacation during late June/early July.  My husband and I celebrated our 25th anniversary on June 17th.  Back in 1989, our honeymoon was spent in Westcliffe, CO.  My sister and her husband graciously agreed to host us at their vacation home in Westcliffe.  It was an amazing experience, as our two sons had never seen the mountains before this summer.

Seeing the mountains again (it had been 23 years for me!) was more than awe-inspiring.  It was more like renewing an old acquaintance, as while I was growing up, I had spent most of my summer vacations there.  There are too many memories to share here, for sure!  The smell of the sweet grasses, pine trees, and cool mountain air are indescribable!  My memories are of a young, red-haired, freckle-faced girl with braids and a sense of adventure.  This older version couldn't keep pace with that young girl, but I still loved every moment!

One of the best things about our vacation (which also included a family visit to Kansas, a stop to see relatives in Indiana, and family time in Michigan!), other than seeing family, was the time away from daily life.  It was a time to strengthen family bonds and be rejuvenated.  Though physically tiring in many ways, it was refreshing in so many other ways.

Sangre de Cristo mountains
I have found that these experiences help me tune in more clearly to God's voice, too.  Over the past month, God has been speaking some definite things to my heart.  They may not translate well onto the electronic page here, but bear with me.  They are certain to be more fleshed out in future posts.

- God is faithful in every way.  Time spent worrying is time spent not seeing His faithfulness.

- Provision from God often comes by the means we least expect, and almost NEVER comes when we think it should.  But always on time!

- God wants us to live in an active, vital relationship with Him.  It is not enough to coast along, trusting in Him to save us from hell.  Anyone can sit in a boat, and the tide will eventually take them somewhere.  But the one who takes up the oars will see the destination more quickly and enjoy the ride immensely more than the stationary passenger.

Focus on the Family!
- God wants to be pursued.  He wants us to take on the challenge.  Paul encouraged his readers to "run" the race, "press on" to the higher calling, "rejoice" always, "stand fast" (active immobility?!), "make our requests known", "meditate" on the good things of God (active mind!), and "share".  All action verbs!

- God wants us to live out our faith in the world.  This is not a secret religion.  This is good news!  Our lives and lips should be proclaiming Him everywhere and to every person!

If you're reading these things, and thinking, "Yep!  Those are great things.  Basic, but true," I agree.  Very basic.  Very true.  Very great.  As I said, there is more to the depth of what God is saying, but this is the gist.



But the bigger challenge is now this:  to pray it into place.  (Something else God has been speaking to my heart.)  Get it past my head, into my heart, and into my life.

More next time...


Friday, July 18, 2014

Let Me Tell You About a Man...

There once was a man, young in years, yet wise.  He married his true love, prepared to make a life for them on the fertile lands of the Midwestern Plains.  He knew the soil, the seasons, and the life, as it had been his way of living since birth.  They shared their love of tending the soil, for nurturing each other, and, most important, their love for God.  As they began their journey of wedded bliss, however, there were storm clouds on the horizon.

For in a far off country, Communism was dividing the land.  Brother was fighting against brother.  The domination of the many by the few was unveiling the realities of the ideology.  Women and children were suffering and mourning the loss of their husbands, fathers, and sons.  The leadership of our country decided it was time to step in.

And so it was, that the young man--though just beginning his new life, and not yet even 21 years of age--was called by his country to fight on the soil of a foreign land.  Along with thousands of his fellow citizens, he boarded a ship for that land across the ocean.

The man entered a world he had never known:  a world of mortar shells and land mines.  A world where one false move could cost a man his leg, his life, or the lives of many other men.  A world of bitter cold and wounded soldiers.

He spent the majority of his days in an area known as the Punch Bowl.  This was an area that had been taken by the North Koreans, but which the Americans had determined to reclaim for the South Korean people.  Before the man was assigned to the Punch Bowl, 160 men had lost their lives there, as an overzealous commander had been more concerned about his medals than the lives of his men.  It was there that the man truly entered into the horrors of war.

Every day, he would witness young children on their way to school, in the midst of this war zone.  He would load a trailer with provisions for the men on the front lines, and risk his life to assure his fellow soldiers had  provisions. One of those meal runs could have easily ended his life.  As he and his buddy stepped into the bunker with buckets of food, a blast hit the food trailer attached to his Jeep.  That trailer ended up being kicked into a canyon, now a victim of the war, too.  Pieces of the shrapnel ended up in both men, though the man would not have his share removed until over 60 years later.

He would use that same Jeep on other missions as well, as he would often carry the bodies of the same men [he had fed] to a nearby MASH unit for medical care...or to a camp where the body was placed in a bag.  The man learned that every day could truly be his last as well.

One day, while driving along a rim area of the Punch Bowl, known as Heart Break Ridge, he heard a mortar round aimed at the fuel barrels he was transporting.  Though he was not hit, he quickly shoved the barrels off the truck, to lighten the load and make himself less of a target.  On some of those same roads, he taxied an airplane mechanic to assist a downed pilot.  He also spent time concentrating on NOT driving in the ruts of the road, in order to avoid the tell-tale wires of  land mines.  Many times, his cargo was of the high-ranking leadership--a cargo which he transported to the front lines and back.

At a certain point during his service to his country, he was given the privilege of some R&R in the country of Japan.  There, the man handed a very well-worn picture of his bride to an artist, from which the painter was able to compose a beautiful likeness of the man's young wife.

Near the end of the war, the man was commissioned to take a commanding officer from a port on the eastern coast, through miles and miles of forest, to a city in northern Korea, where the Armistice Agreement was to be signed.  However, at an American checkpoint, the two men were refused entry, due to a machine-gun mount on the rear portion of the man's Jeep.  Though the man did his best to negotiate a compromise, in the end, they were turned back, resulting in a long drive back through the mountains and to the coast.

The man faced death and danger every day.  But one day would stick in his mind forever.  Another soldier had been shot by a sniper, and the man was sent to retrieve his body.  The sniper, with uncanny accuracy, had shot the soldier in the head, which caused his helmet to land several feet away.  The man knew the soldier's wife would want her husband's helmet.  To his horror, when he inspected the helmet, the name inside was his own:  Vernon Davis.  Apparently, the two men had slept side-by-side the previous  night.  When dawn broke, the deceased man had accidentally grabbed the wrong helmet.  The man knew that it could have been his head in that helmet, and his body being sent back in a bag.  Yet the man, in the compassion given him by his God, wrote the letter which would be delivered to the soldier's wife, explaining how he had died for his country.  The man wrote many such letters during his time in that foreign land, though he was personally experiencing the daily struggle with the mortality of his brothers and the battle for his own survival.

Then the day came:  the man had his discharge and would return home!  However, again, not all was picture-perfect, for the man had contracted malaria.  He would see his girl soon, but also spend some time recuperating in a veteran's hospital.

The man did not speak of the incidents of the Korean War for many years.  He would occasionally mention positive memories, but never anything in depth.  Until last week, when the man sat with his youngest daughter and a photo album, and his memories came out, bit by bit.  The time had finally come for the stories--hidden inside for over half a century--to be shared.

Yes, the man is my father.  He is a hero.  He is MY hero.


Update on May 28, 2016:  Tonight, my dad told me of leading other men down a road, as they headed for a location to shoot a mortar round toward an enemy target.  They had been warned that the road they traversed may contain land mines.  At one point, he spotted three wires protruding from the ground:  a sure sign of a land mine.  They skirted that point, continued to their destination, and successfully launched the mortar, hitting their target.  He later learned that many times, land mines were also hidden in the grass between the tire paths.  Thankfully, not this time...