Author: natasha

For Valentine’s Day, the three of us celebrated Family Love Day. We did the things we love with the people we love. The photo above was taken at the photo booth set up in the basement of the Art Museum where we spent a portion of our morning. It reminds me of a song that the invincible Raffi sings, “All I really need is a song in my heart, food in my belly, and love in my family.”

Yes, I just quoted Raffi. Love’ll do that to you.

I thought I had gotten used to doing things I said I’d never do, but I managed to surprise myself today.

In an act of unbridled frugality, I added fabric to the bottom of Zoe’s favorite pants. They were the perfect kind of soft and not “too jean-sy” as so many pants are dubbed. They have pockets. And they don’t fall down from her lack of waist. They were also such high-waters that I was embarrassed for her to be seen in them–and it really takes a lot to embarrass me.

When I was young and growing about as fast as Zoe is now, my mom added fabric to the bottom of my pants. Not just straight fabric either. Ruffles. NO ONE had ruffles on the bottom of their pants. There was no question as to how uncool ruffles on the bottoms of one’s pants were. I hated them. As I wore the Laura Ingalls-esque prairie dresses that went back and forth from Becki to me with ruffles added and removed to adjust lengths (see, now it’s knee-length, it’s a whole new dress!), and tugged on the pants with their unsightly hems, I stewed in my hand-me-downs and shook a proverbial fist “I will never make my daughter wear something like this! Never!”

Heh, heh. Well, I am. And I, like my mom, think it’s perfectly cute.

Mom, you may now gloat.

We were telling some friends this weekend about our church directory photo phenomenon; how in the 6 years that passed between directory photos, Zoe aged forward, Mark aged backward, and I seem to have been completely re-styled (thank you to Emily who started the arduous process soon after this photo was taken).

“The Curious Case of the Church Directory!,” our friends (who know a thing or two about movies) said.

“Aha!” I said, “a blog post.”

Here we are in 2002… And now… (you’ll need to click on them for full effect)

Mark’s performance is Oscar-worthy. Move over, Brad Pitt.

We found out at the oncologist today that the Gemzar and Avastin are still working. The nodules are still slowly shrinking. So, we’ll continue to have the same chemo treatment every other week. And I’ll see Dr. Campbell in two months to see how I”m doing and I’ll have a CAT scan in 4 months to see how the meds are working.

While trying to wipe the smiles from our faces, Mark remarked that four months is “a third of a year.” Yep, a third of a year to relax and not worry quite so much about cancer. Couldn’t really ask for more.

And for those of you who continue to petition God on our behalf. Thank you. So much.

My friend Heather is the life of any party. Outgoing and hilarious, Heather’s stories at our our lunch and coffee dates often result in me resting my forehead on the table for a while or spitting out my coffee I am laughing so hard.

We met in college where Heather would go the coffee shop for all of ten minutes during chapel break on Fridays and emerge with a detailed list of exactly where and when we would be going that weekend. Before cellphones, Facebook, heck, before the internet, Heather was and remains the ultimate social networking device.

Now Heather lives 45 minutes away in the summer. In the Michigan winters, the same distance can stretch to 2 hours away. But she works here. SO, last night, with forecasters predicting blizzard conditions, she took me up on the standing offer of guest room and morning latte.

One would think that a sleepover with Heather would mean a night out. Back in the day, we would have been raiding one another’s closets and hippy-fying our hair at 9:30 p.m. planning to meet friends at Cottage Bar or going to a movie at UICA. But last night, when 9:30 rolled around, Heather called her husband to say good night and to gloat over the good night of sleep she was anticipating while he was home with their two kids and I gleefully popped pain-killers for the cold I’ve been fighting (when I cough I feel like I’ve swallowed glass) and kicked back a shot of cough syrup. We then, sigh, went to bed.

This morning Heather was up with the birds as usual and halfway out the door before I even got a warm latte into her hand, but we had enough time to crow over how well we slept while Mark compared my medicine mixing skills to that of Jimi Hendrix (it will be the first and last time in my life that Jimi and my skills have ever been compared). It was about then that Heather and I looked at one another in mutual wonder–this is what it’s like to be 37? No weeknights out? Not even a movie? Just a good night’s sleep and we’re euphoric?

I know what Heather would say to that–her Blackberry in constant motion and her virtual Rolodex busting at the rings–“Hey, even the life of the party needs to sleep sometime.”

True. But at 9:30?

Apparently.

Zoe and her Grandma Turner have a lovely Christmas tradition: making a gingerbread house together. As Zoe has grown, so has the project. This year, Jane even made the gingerbread from scratch!

Here’s the lovely abode:

And the one they worked on two years ago:

And the ongoing threat to any gingerbread that enters the house:

I have this contractor. He works for coffee. He supplies all of his own materials. He is fastidious. He treats his clients to lunch. He babysits. He doesn’t mind if you say you’re going to work with him and then end up lying on the couch. He works in any kind of weather, inside or out. He designs, fits, paints, re-fits, and installs custom storm windows in old homes. He does everything. But, sorry, he only does it for his kids.

This fall Dad made and installed 30 custom storm windows (mostly interior) for our leaky old house. Dad is well acquainted with storm windows having hauled them around his own house every year. When Dad was painting his own windows with his perfectionist eye, I was only 4. He would pay me a nickel to tell him stories while he worked. One day, Mom snapped this picture:

Last week, when Dad and I finally put up the last of the windows here, Zoe snapped this picture:

And today, we had the family over for dinner to thank Dad, and I sang the following song. To the tune of “The Brady Bunch.” Thank you, Dad. My favorite colleague. My favorite contractor.

Here’s a story
about a man named Galen
who was busy with a “vineyard” of his own
his retire-ment meant putzing at his own house
If his youngest kid would just leave him alone.

Leave him alone. Leave him alone. If his youngest kid would just leave him alone.

Here’s story
about his kid named Tasha
who said “Dad, here’s what I think that we should do”
“we should make custom storms for all my windows,
and by “we” I guess I’m really meaning “you”

I’m meaning you, I’m meaning you, and by we I guess I’m really meaning you.

So then Galen, gave it a good thinking
Wondering if outsourcing could fit the bill
After talking to just one window installer
It was clear these shoes were meant for him to fill.

For him to fill, for him to fill. these were shoes that really only he could fill.

Here’s a story
About a ton of windows
Made with care to fit precisely to a “t”
There are 30, yes 30, altogether.
Windows must just be his special-ity

Speciality, Speciality. Windows must just be his special-ity

Here’s a story
how his daughter helped him
Doing the really really real important jobs
Like sharpening pencils and changing out the drill-bits
And pointing out the cuteness of the dog

Cuteness of the dog, cuteness of the dog. She gladly pointed out the cuteness of the dog.

Here’s a thank you
From a grateful daughter
Who still thinks her father must have hung the moon
If he didn’t, well that would be just nonsense
Have you realized there aren’t drafts in any room?

In any room, in any room, have you realized there aren’t drafts in any room?

So thank you, Dad,
For this lovely gift.
We are awed, inspired, and ecstatic
It’s so lovely but we have just one small question
What do you think of working on the attic?

The attic, the attic, shall we move on to the project of the attic?

We spent Thanksgiving at our family Happy Place this year–the Veal home. My sister’s family put us up in style. And, while we did plenty while we were there: IKEA trip, a peek at Jim’s new school, adults only dinner, plenty of thrifting, and a complete turkey dinner; it seems I only brought my camera along when we climbed Stone Mountain while our turkey was in the oven.

The kids, who had been running around the house before our departure, suddenly became fatigued when it was clear that we were planning to walk up the mountain. You’ll see them draped dramatically over rocks in the photos below. They miraculously recovered once at the top and found the descent downright enjoyable.

We simply could not have had a more lovely Thanksgiving break. Thank you Jim, Becki, Ramona, Josie, and Ike!

And thanks, Mom, for a lovely gift!

Beth and Jamey tied the knot and took up permanent residence on McCleod 9. We couldn’t be happier–and the wedding was gorgeous. A few favorite photos from their wedding photographer…

School just isn’t the same this year. My favorite colleague retired and I can no longer retreat to his eclectic room during break to listen to jazz and sip coffee. I don’t have anyone to debrief after staff meetings or anyone who will shamelessly glom on to my contribution to the faculty potluck. I don’t have a favorite monthly chapel speaker who, though his speeches contained stories peppered with the names and personalities of seniors and a recurring character, seemed to be talking directly to me.

Yesterday, when I trained some students as peer listeners, I asked them if they could think of someone who was genuinely accepting of all students. I realized as I asked that previous students had always said his name.

Sure, I still get to see my favorite colleague. In fact, I like being able to see him even more as we “collaborate” on projects outside of school. He’s darn good at the extracurricular projects as well (photos and explanation will be in a forthcoming post). However, today, after a staff meeting with no relatives in the room, I really miss working with my dad.

It’s a little long for a blog post, but I’ve returned to it so often that I thought you might want to read it as well. Dad’s graduation address to the class of 2008. Here it is…

SCHS GRADUATION 2008

TEXT:

“…but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.” (Isaiah 40:31)

MESSAGE:

The text our graduating seniors have chosen for this occasion is the concluding verse to the powerfully eloquent 40th chapter of Isaiah which begins with these familiar words: “Comfort, comfort my people, says your God.” Let’s read together out loud the text the graduates have chosen. It is printed in your program: “…BUT THOSE WHO HOPE IN THE LORD WILL RENEW THEIR STRENGTH. THEY WILL SOAR ON WINGS LIKE EAGLES; THEY WILL RUN AND NOT GROW WEARY, THEY WILL WALK AND NOT FAINT.”

To catch the full impact of this verse for the occasion we celebrate tonight, we must first recall the occasion for which the prophet Isaiah originally wrote these words from God. Isaiah began his ministry around 700 B.C. He spoke forcefully about the events in his day: Israel’s sin and God’s coming judgment at the hands of the Assyrians. The Holy Spirit also gave Isaiah a sharp, telescopic view of the future as well, when God would use Babylon to punish the tribes of Judah for their sin. It happened, of course, about a hundred years later in 586 B.C. when the forces of Babylon leveled Jerusalem and hauled off the brightest and best of Judah’s youth—including Daniel and his three friends.

But Isaiah’s vision into the future did not end with his prediction of judgment. The Spirit also gave him the light to see that Cyrus, rising leader of the Persians, would defeat Babylon some 50 years later and release all captives who wished to go back home to Judah—and this, friends, is the first occasion to which Isaiah addressed the words of our text.

The Judean captives were on the very threshold of freedom. They would be able to leave Babylon and go back to their homeland. But the trip was long and treacherous. Besides, they had no money to sustain them along the way and no military force to protect them. And even if they reached the homeland of their dreams, they would find only ruin and enemies who had already laid claim to what was once theirs. Many became despondent, convinced they did not have the strength to cross the threshold and step out on the long journey.

Enlightened by the Spirit, Isaiah saw their situation from afar, and so he wrote to them, “…those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.”

I can’t say for certain, but maybe you graduates picked these words of Isaiah as your class text because the occasion for which they were first written bears some similarity to the occasion of your graduation from South Christian. Tell me, do you feel a little bit like captives on the threshold of freedom? No longer will your days be defined by the sound of a tardy bell. No longer will you have to get a signed permission slip just to walk down the hallway or go to the restroom during class time or use the computers in the library. No longer will a dress code prescribe what you can wear and how you can or cannot wear it.

And maybe, too, you find all this new freedom from school and home to be somewhat frightening. You don’t face the same things that the Judean captives in Babylon faced when Cyrus set them free. But the fact is, you face formidable obstacles and challenges. The economy is not good. Jobs are getting scarce and energy costs keep getting higher. You may worry if there is work for you with a living wage. Perhaps you have chosen to go to college, but you’re not sure what you should choose for a major. Meanwhile, college is expensive, and you wonder how in the world you will ever be able to repay a college debt—and perhaps start a home of your own at the same time. Besides all this, we are a nation at war which is always a special burden of the young.

But these are not even the most serious challenges you face. You will find that the most serious are always within your selves: struggling with the sin that is bent on destroying you, managing the weaknesses that threaten to unravel your lives.

Life is difficult. Life is hard—even for young people. To think otherwise is to live in fantasy land. We live East of Eden in a fallen creation and will continue to do so until Jesus Christ comes again and all things are made new.

But the good news in the meantime is that God is for you. There is no greater power imaginable—and he has promised to be your strength. Listen again to some of the things Isaiah says about this great God of ours before he even gets to the text you have chosen for your class text.

“See, the sovereign Lord comes with power….”

“He tends his flock like a shepherd: he gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart….”

“Who (other than God) has measured the waters in the hollow of his hand, or with the breadth of his hand marked off the heavens?”

“He sits enthroned above the circle of the earth.”

“Do you not know? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He will not grow tired or weary, and his understanding no one can fathom. He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak.”

Isaiah then goes on to tell the Judean captives in Babylon as well as you, class of 2008, that those who hope in this Lord will renew their strength. Note well: Isaiah does not say that problems, obstacles, and anxieties will evaporate when you put your hope in the Lord, but he does promise that the Lord God will renew your strength, literally exchange your strength with his own so that you can make it through even the most challenging problems, obstacles, and anxieties.

But what does it mean to “hope in the Lord?” Let’s deal with that.

It means to put our trust completely in the Lord. It means to stake our lives here and now as well as our eternal destiny on God—and not something less than God such as our money, our talents, or health. All these things will disappear. Sometimes they disappear overnight. Only God is eternal. Only God, therefore, is worthy of our trust. Only God is the proper anchor of our hope.

What does it mean to “hope in the Lord?” It means to weave, with every deliberate choice we make, whether small or big, the fragile thread of our own will into the steel cable of his will—so that what we want is what he wants for us. And then to rest in this certainty: that what he wants for us is good and right because he is good and right.

What does it mean to “hope in the Lord?” Most of all, it means to believe the good news of the Gospel that God made us right with himself through Jesus Christ and that he implanted the Holy Spirit in us to make us over completely in the likeness of his Son. We are his children and, what’s more, his heirs who look forward to the new creation. To hope in the Lord is to rest secure in the strong arms of his grace, assured that nothing can ever separate us from his love for us.

All of us, whether young or old, are a bit like the Judean captives way back when. You young graduates cross the threshold of freedom tonight and will soon set out on a long journey, ultimately for the homeland of our dreams—nothing less than the new creation. This is your time to stretch your wings, leave the nest, and soar all over God’s creation, fallen and broken as it is now, listening for his call and searching for the role he wants you to play in his redemption of it. This can be exhilarating, but it is also tough work and it may take you on a few fruitless flights. That’s why the text just preceding the one you have chosen says, “Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall.” But God’s Word is sure. You can count on it: young people who put their hope in the Lord will renew their strength—and they will soar on wings like eagles.

Your parents generation has crossed the threshold of freedom a bit before you. They are at a run on this journey to the homeland of our dreams—this redeemed creation that is our inheritance in Christ. Their lives are often one harried race against time. If they are not dashing here to see after you, their kids, they are running somewhere else to attend an important meeting for the church or school, to take a meal to a needy family, to lead a youth group or some other mission in the church, to look after their aging parents—all while working full time. If they don’t fall asleep at night exhausted, they lie awake worrying about you. God’s promise in the text you have chosen is for them too. They may become weary, but their weariness will not bring them down and cause them to give up: “those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength…they will run and not grow weary.”

And then there is my generation. We crossed the threshold of freedom way back in the Middle Ages. We are long past those days of soaring or even running. We are on a walk, a slow and steady walk, to the homeland of our dreams—that new earth beneath a new sky. You may find it incomprehensible that anyone merely walking should grow faint—but then, you are still young. Doubts, fears, and temptations plague us too—and we have found from experience, many times along the way in this journey of ours, that it is only our hope in the Lord that renews our strength and keeps us from fainting. We have known God’s promise to be true: “those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength…they will walk and not be faint.”

As you graduates leave South Christian, test your wings, and soar—you may some day notice an old guy plodding along. It might just be me. Drop on down for a visit, and we will talk about our hope in the Lord, the hope that renews our strength and keeps us going, all the way to the homeland of our dreams.