August 21 – “Oops, a Lexus”

For the Queen and her faithful band the issue was not a place to stay.  Indeed they had not even begun to consider alternate lodging.  My own brother in fact had an empty home nearby, available for a short time.  There the group began this new twist in the already confusing scenario.  And a daunting task before them lay.  All of their belongings must be removed from castle grounds.  All of it.  Nothing could remain.  Not once-mighty, now-toppled cases which teemed with books.  Not tiny palm-sized keepsake boxes with remnants of the Queen's modest array of jewels.  Not colorful couches or piles of pillows.  Not favorite clothing or instruments of music.  All must be removed.  All must be carried, regretfully, away from the castle grounds and placed – no, dumped – all-too unceremoniously near the path of those designated to slowly remove it, to dispose of it.    The distasteful task was in process throughout Greater Island.  The diverse Islanders suddenly found that they had this one thing in common.  All have lost.  All are grieving.  But all must come together as one, already united in loss, and push on.  Move forward.  Ever forward.  Through the slime.  Through the filth.  Through the stench.  Through the memories.    I had a plan for today.  Actually the master plan was to begin last night.  I was going to take one of the new pills the rheumatologist prescribed yesterday and go right to bed.  The label on them was covered with warning after warning.  "Do not operate heavy machinery after taking."  "Medication may make you drowsy."  "Be sure you know how this medication will affect you before you do anything important."  OK.  It didn't say that last one.  But my favorite was "You can take this medication with food, but it will decrease its effectiveness.  Warning: if you take this medication on an empty stomach nausea might result."    So.  I was going to take one and go to bed.  Yesterday was one of the worst pain days I have had in a long time.  I have had nothing for pain for the last two weeks while the evil medication that worked so well but also enjoyed messing up my liver got out of my system.  As you might expect, it got steadily worse.  At least the doctor was able to see me when I was in pain this time.  I finally took one around 9:30 or so.  I figured that was long enough.    I slept OK.  For an hour.  Then I woke up and groggily looked at the clock.  And went back to sleep.  An dthen I repeated the above in an hour.  And again in an hour.  I woke up every single hour on the hour all night.  I remember it clearly.  I felt like I was in the operating room and the yhad already begun gassing me every time.  Very strange.  I was always able to get back to sleep, though.    Today the pain hasn't been all that bad.  It hs worsened as the day progressed, so I'll take another tonight.  But back to the original thought.  My plan was to stick around the house all day and take one every three hours like it said I could on the bottle.  I would begin as soon as I got back from WalMart.  But it was WalMart on a Saturday.  In Galveston.  In the summer.  On tax-free weekend.  There were one or two other folks in the store with me.  Undaunted, I plodded through the teeming masses and got the things we needed.  I even stopped to talk to a few folks I knew along the way.  Not to mention my usual people-watching.  Had to get that in.  When I went to the parking lot I chirped the alarm on our Chevy Equinox door lock system and reached for the handle.  And it wasn't our car.  I stepped back and took a closer look.  Oops, a Lexus.  That was most assuredly not our car.    By the time I got home my brother an dhis wife were here to take Mom out to eat for her birthday.  Only it was for my birthday too.  So I was invited.  My uncle even came.  We went to Gumbo Bar on PostOffice Street.  Great gumbo.  Go sometime.  And we came back to the house for some more of the great chocolate pie from Christina.    And about two minutes after they drove off Nathan and April and Cailyn came by to give Mom a pint of ice cream so she could eat the whole thing and not have to share with me.  Gotta love those boys of mine.  When they left she brought me over an ice cream cone.  Gotta love that Mom of mine.   So finally everyone was gone.  I could begin my plan for the day.  Only the day was pretty much over.  I'll wait until later and take another one before bed.  Maybe it will keep me under longer that one hour at a time.  I appreciate the freedom from pain, though, however temporary.   Psalms 33:11 says, "But the plans of the Lord stand firm forever, the purposes of his heart through all generations."   Father, I trust you to handle the details of carrying out the proper plans.  Even the ones I come up with that flutter and change.  Amen.

August 20 – “Happy Birthday, Mom”

Yet there were others.  Those who resided within the Land of the Protected Crescent Moon.  No. That was not an area dedicated to strange gods of the skies who somehow miraculously gathered the structures under a wing like a mother chicken, though the result seemed so.  The realms of those located within that land were virtually untouched.  Oh, all were rattled by driving winds, to be sure.  And some weathered the battering better than others.  I suppose the same could be said of us.  Ah.    But those within that blessed Land could point to a reason other than the skies for their survival.  They lived in the only area upon Greater Island that proved to be close enough to the Wall Against the Seas and far enough from the unchecked advance of waters from behind and just high enough to teeter on their tiny apex of security.    And good news!  The eldest son of the Queen sent word that his castle, which was within that Land was relatively unscathed.  That meant the entire family would have access to an oasis of calm whenever it was needed.   Which brought up the next crisis for the Queen and her court.  Where to stay?  Her lands were quite unlivable, but they needed to be nearby so work could begin.  Indeed work was already ongoing in earnest by even the Queen herself.  Family provided shelter initially, but it was only temporary.  Long term shelter would be needed.  But where?  How?   Again with the questions!   Just as we were starting home group last night my cell phone rang.  We had just started singing, and that meant I had to pay attention to where we were in the song so I could click to the next screen in powerpoint so everyone could see the words.  The laptop was on some kind of split screen mode with the TV screen, so I couldn't ask just anyone to take over without at least showing them how to do it.  Of course my first thought was that it might be Chris.  Now all of that went through my head before the first line of "Take Me Out to the Ball Game" had completed.  That's my ring tone. Ordinarily I would either ignore it completely or let Chris take it.  But Chris wasn't here.  And it might be her with news about her Mom.  Or maybe just her wanting to hear me say, "I love you."  I couldn't just let it pass without looking, so in between slides I popped open the phone a snuck a peak.  It wasn't Chris.  In fact it wasn't even a number I recognized.  No brainer.  I closed the phone and put it away.   But something about it kept nagging at me.  I took my phone back out and looked at the number again.  "Oops, missed a slide.  Let me get caught up.  No, I really don't know that number.  Why is it bugging me?  Maybe it's one of he new couples who visited church.  Maybe they wanted directions to home group.  Maybe someone else is calling because Chris is tied up with her Mom.  Maybe …"  Needless to say, that song was not one where I was able to lose myself in worship.  I finally put the phone on silent and put it back in my pocket.    As soon as we finished Bible Study, though, that nagging returned.  I checked the phone again, and discovered the same number had tried to call a second time.  OK.  Now the urge to call the number back was almost overwhelming.  Please understand here.  I don't usually call any number back unless they leave a message.  But I couldn't shake it.  The group was breaking up and just standing around chatting.  So I went into my office and called it back.   The lady that answered was very nice.  Seems that she had been trying to call a friend but didn't have the last two digits of his phone number.  So she had just made an attempt to see what would happen.  She was very apologetic and obviously embarrassed.  I asked if she ever made contact with the person she was trying to reach, and she said she hadn't.  I told her that I didn't think it was an accident that she "found" me.  If nothing else she met someone new and I would pray for her to boot.  The line went very quiet.  "Did you just say you would pray for me?" she asked.  "Yes, Ma'am, I did.  And I will do it."  More silence.  Then she said, "The person I was trying to call is a Godly man, and I was calling to ask him to pray for me.  You really will pray for me?"  I again assured her that I would.  "Oh, my name is Darlene," was her final, subdued comment as she quickly disconnected.  I prayed for Darlene.  It was no accident.   Jeremiah 29:11-13 says, "'For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the Lord, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. 12 Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. 13 You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.'"   Father, thank you that in your world there are no accidents.  Take care of my new friend Darlene.  Amen.

August 19 – “Paralleling Isaac”

But they had a task before them.  Their quest had not ended.  Their journey had only reached a slight detour.  This was, after all, the castle.  The Yarrow And Ramtil Domain in the Land of the Sycamores on Greater Island.  The realm of the Queen.  This was home.   Messages from surrounding realms on Greater Island began to trickle in.  Many, many neighbors returned to find their castles in much the same disarray.  Others saw obvious results of the vicious flood waters, but soon realized that they would survive.  Their lands would recover. Their homes still stood.  Too many others were stunned to return to no possibility of recovering property or even a roof over their head.  A huge raft, constructed to transport large and many goods across the sea to the Main Land, broke free of its ties and was tossed randomly through the churning waters.  Its random, deadly path soon took it to the castles, the homes, of friends of the Queen on the other side of the Island.  And the huge craft, created for a certainly benign and helpful purpose, became a hurtling carrier of destruction.  Homes were ripped apart, throwing wood and stone and bedding and plates and lives into the raging waters.  And when those waters finally receded, the craft settled nearby, once again but a simple craft of transport built for good, yet now a misplaced mess amid the devastation.   Mom and I went to the youth worship time last night.  The baptism was postponed.  The family wanted more of them to have the opportunity to witness the event.  The young man was clearly disappointed, but I encouraged him an dlet him know that was a good thing.  There  was kind of a sad note within the group.  Several have graduated and are heading away to college.  Last night was their last night with the group for awhile.  One of the Mom's brought a cake with lots of whipped cream and strawberries dipped in chocolate on top.  That helped take the edge off.   The Bible study was on the life of Isaac.  As the youth pastor was explaining how Isaac dug wells, then ended up giving them away aand calmly digging some more, Mom leaned over and "whispered" to me, "That sounds like he's talking about you."  So my Mom thinks my life parallels that of Isaac.   OK.  But I'm not sure if she was saying I was a wimp or I was effectively turning the other cheek.   I mowed our lawn.  At least I tried to.  The mower has developed an interesting rhythm of its own.  It starts easily enough.  Just like it's supposed to.  But then it runs like it has to take deep breaths every few seconds.  Rev … ease off … Rev … ease off.  Problem is, on the ease off cycle, the blades obviously don't turn as fast or maybe not at all.  So there were several strips where you could see the visual evidence of the rest cycle.  At least it didn't die out completely.  I got the yard as mowed as it's gonna get for awhile, and I did manage to bet the rain, which, by the way, never came at all yesterday.  Did get some today, though.  That's a good thing.    The latest word from the alternate universe traveler:  Chris' Mom is seeing mice and butterflies run across her bed.  I told Chris, "As long as they are fluffy white Cinderella mice and big beautiful moody gardens Jurassic butterflies, how bad can it be?"  Her Mom also occasionally talks to someone at the foot of her bed and tells him to let go of her foot, that she's not ready yet.    I finally texted Chris, "There is joy in you – his name is Holy Spirit.  When it gets too tough or too weird, go where he is and grin just a little.  Then remember your goofy husband and laugh out loud."   Philippians 2:5-11 says, "Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus: 6 Who, being in very nature a God, did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, 7 but made himself nothing, taking the very nature b of a servant, being made in human likeness. 8 And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself and became obedient to death — even death on a cross! 9 Therefore God exalted him to the highest place and gave him the name that is above every name, 10 that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, 11 and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father."   Father, this whole paralleling Isaac thing was a bit disconcerting.  I don't mean to be a wimp, all I try to do is be like Jesus, and he turned the other cheek.  Maybe that's what Isaac was doing: living the character of Jesus.  That's sure what I want to do.  Amen.

August 18 – “Ice cream and Ovaltine”

Furniture was in a shambles, at the least upended, and at worst twisted and distorted beyond recognition.  Items carefully placed in one room mysteriously appeared across the castle.  In one room two dolls, playthings for the children, yet keepsakes of times past, floated from their roost on the floor to a stop, gently reclining side by side on the now soaked and stinking bed.  In another the final written message received before the flight of the Queen was found two rooms away sodden yet easily legible, warning of the rapid approach of the wall of water and the explosion of air.  Room after room, hall upon hall revealed more and more of the same.  Dampness.  Stench.  Destruction.   And the questions began.  At first they seemed as tiny itches in the deepest recesses of their minds, somehow yearning to be scratched but unwilling to allow their exact presence to be acknowledged.  How did that happen?  Has anyone seen ...?  Would you look at this?  Later the questions moved, clawing and scratching their way into the stomachs of the weary band.  Hunger?  Perhaps.  Nausea?  To be sure.  Are you all right?  Can I help you?  Can you believe it? And then came that final possibility, that evasive churning, that indiscernible ache that emanated from every pore of their being.  The one question none would dare verbalize lest the answer frighten him more than the uncertainty.  Was it, then … "Why?"  Ah.    And no answer came.   You know, among the tension and turmoil surrounding Chris' Mom right now, there was one sort of light moment.  At breakfast the day I left Chris' sister fixed eggs and sausage.  I don't know if she was going to do that anyway or if she did it because she found out it was Chris' birthday.  But once the birthday revelation came out, any good thing that happened was on purpose because of the birthday.  Not that much good happened.    But there was the one thing.  At that breakfast Chris' Dad came to the table with a big glass of milk and a carton of Ovaltine.  Now I have told him before that I haven't seen anyone but him drink that stuff since I was a little kid.  Oh.  If you don't know, it's a powder substance that you put in milk to "chocolatize" it.  I cautiously mentioned again that he was still drinking Ovaltine.  This time he looked up (though not directly at me), and a very slight grin tickled the corners of his mouth.  And he said, "Ovaltine.  Keeps you young.  It did wonders for Little Orphan Annie.  Oh.  And ice cream.  Ice cream and Ovaltine will keep you young."  And his voice trailed off into silence as the grin disappeared and the sadness and darkness returned to his face.  "Little Orphan Annie.  Ovaltine.  Ice Cream."   Things are maintaining over in Bay City.  Dark and hot and sad.  I understand there was some excitement today, though.  The new electric bill came.  $290.  Chris' Dad is ready to switch providers for sure now.  Especially when he found out we were paying two tenths of a cent less per kilowatt hour than he was.   I had a meeting at SCA this morning, then spent a few hours sweeping and mopping while the pews were stacked.  I hope to get the teenagers to set up for services after our baptism tonight.  Looking forward to that.  Joy.    Philippians 3:13-14 says, "Brothers, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, 14 I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus."   Father, I sure do get the straining.  Amen

August 17 – “Happy Birthday, Chris”

The splendid library with rows upon rows of heavy tomes and lighthearted treatises was reduced to a shambles as bookcases collapsed into one another, smashing the once proud structures into piles of worthless rubble.  On one case, the shelf itself had crumbled helplessly into the raging waters, but the valiant deposits of knowledge had swelled in a vain attempt to maintain their position.  There they remained, no longer needing support from below, yet regretfully no longer able to reveal their treasures to the world.  And the few precious books that managed to avoid the cruel flood completely were rapidly falling victim to the ravages of the dreaded Muggy Offensive Lingering Disgustingness.    Indeed it was everywhere, creeping slowly but oh, so steadily up the walls and around any object that dared to stand in its way.  Methodically marching, surrounding, entering, and infesting.  Cruelly making all in its path totally unfit, totally ruined.  And to make matters worse was the accompanying stench, the burning evil that passes through the air and into the nostrils of unsuspecting, stunned bystanders, causing a horrible illness that often refuses forever to abandon its host.     OK.  If I can remember, the story will be in italics from now on.  Hope that helps.   I just came home from Bay City.  Chris' Mom continues to mystify every medical person she comes in contact with.  The hospice nurse is the newest in the growing crowd.  She said she has presented the case to several of their doctors, and none of them can believe she is still alive.  We honestly thought Sunday night would be the end.  And Monday was not much better.  But she held on.  And today she even seemed some better.  Enough that Chris encouraged me to come on home and try to get some work done.  She seemed to think I wasn't concentrating much there, even though I did try to get some studying done on the computer.   We know that she really is dying.  We know that it won't be much longer.  When Chris was able to step back from all the tension and drama, she sifted through the actual medical evidence she could see.  And I guess we can add her "nurse persona" to that list of dumbfounded medical personnel.  It took awhile for Chris to be able to reach that dispassionate nurse role.  She is not sleeping much at night.  Every sound causes her to jump.  Last night her Mom woke around 2:30 and Chris finally got her calmed down enough to fall asleep around 4:30.  There is very little joy in the house.  They keep it dark, drapes drawn most of the time.  And the AC is kept at 80 degrees because the electric bill last month was a whopping $205.  Imagine.  A July electric bill in a three bedroom house in South Texas.  $205.  Perspective, I guess.  The lack of joy is what bothers me the most about Chris staying there.  I can see that her spirit has been tested over and over again.  So far she has held it together, but she is very tired and can't be far from a breaking point.  She's well beyond my breaking point.  And today was her birthday.  Happy Birthday, Chris.   Psalms 30:5 says, "weeping may remain for a night, but rejoicing comes in the morning."   Father, I keep returning to that same promise.  Bring us morning.  Amen.

August 16 – “House Rules”

But not the Queen.  Not yet.  "Let us make a first sweep of the grounds," they insisted, though everyone knew this was about protecting the Queen from the anguish of first sight.  They also knew that she would not be deterred.  She would wait because they asked her, because she was gracious.  But tenacious she was as well.  And before long the Queen herself, dressed in the regalia of the workmen around her, made her first climb through the gaping hole that led into … just what did it lead into?   The Great Room was the first.  Into that room the royal family had hastily situated ornamentals and wood burning regalia and furniture from the outdoors.  And that was all still there.  But the layers of mud and slime that everyone expected simply were not there.  A hodgepodge of practical and pretty, useful and strictly decorative items had shifted and swerved and toppled and crashed to the floor.  Nothing, it seemed, had been left untouched.  Yet it all looked so eerily clean.  No slime.  No mud.  No layers of sand.  Just the easily discernable line of water depth marked so prominently on the walls of every room, strangely higher in some places than others, but clearly evidence of the intruder who came filled with rage and touched with his destructive hand and silently retreated.    I have written more of the story, but I think I'll wait before posting the rest of this segment.  Just the mention of rage is enough for me right now.  Tension is high around here.  Emotions are on edge as Chris' Mom drifts closer to death.  She is ready spiritually.  She is torn emotionally.  She doesn't want to hurt her children.  But she says she is so tired.  She doesn't want to leave her husband.  And he is not prepared for her to go.  Frayed emotions.  Flared tempers.  Tears.  Attempts to aid, to prolong, that come from hearts bursting with love.  And with pain.    I learned something today.  I am here right now because I am Chris' husband and Chris belongs here.  I have a place and a purpose for right now.  I am not yet pastor here, that role is to come later.  Though in private I have prayed with her Mom and heard her cry out to God.  And alone I have groaned as I prayed for Chris and for her Mom and Dad.  Others can speak of dying and heaven, if they are careful and if that is their acceptable role for right now.  The social worker.  The hospice nurse.  It hurts, but that's what is expected of them.  That's the rules.  I spoke once today of heaven.  It was an attempt to comfort, to reassure.  It was the same word I had been speaking in private.  But this time it came when all could hear.  And it came from me.  And that was not the rules.    I heard the voice of pain, and of anger, and of frustration.  It was a brief outburst from Chris' Dad.  I hastened to say that I understood.  I knew immediately I had broken the rule of his house for this time.  I was in a sense briefly banished.  Chris came outside with me and we took a walk, crying and talking.  I didn't feel angry at all.  I at first regretted that I had spoken at all.  But then … my spirit was reaching out to her Mom.  I felt a deep sense of peace in fact, that God was in control, and whatever happened would be OK.  I was hurting for Chris.  She is so tired, and the time is so close.  And bless her heart, she was worried about me.  I love her so much.   The social worker, a believer, met us outside before he left.  He said that the outburst actually brought an opportunity to talk openly about dying in general and this death in particular.  Apparently that was the first time such a discussion had ever occurred with Chris' Dad.  I am more than willing to receive this emotional blow if it leads him a step closer to peace with God.   At her Mom's request Chris called her brothers and sister to come in.  The hospice nurse seems to indicate that the end could be in a day or two.  But of course, no one really knows.  Those final decisions are truly in God's hands.   Revelation 21:3-4 says, "And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, 'Now the dwelling of God is with men, and he will live with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. 4 He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.'"   Father, peace.  Peace.  Amen.

August 15 – “On the road”

First impressions are often precious things.  Love at first sight and all.  But sadly, first impressions are not always the most accurate of emotions.  And so it was when the Queen arrived at the site of her castle, her home.  The view standing in front of the edifice proved eerily deceiving.  For all appeared to be well, except for the expected limbs and debris and sand covering the ground for miles around.  Ah.  And except for the tree that had been felled by a stroke of lightning from the sky and split down the middle, sending it crashing into the side of the castle.  No doubt there would be damage to repair there.  But not insurmountable.    Looking around at each other, they all knew the time had come.  They must enter and survey the interior.  The debris had left a clearly discernable line around the outer core of the structure, measuring a frightening five feet.  Five feet of flood waters had covered the grounds and, yes, the inside as well.  It was indeed hard to grasp.  None could find within himself a frame of reference from which to draw encouragement or guidance.  It would be the same for all, for floods know no social boundaries.  Hand in hand they approached.  The youngest prince who had done a preliminary survey, gently reminded the Queen, "The door will not open.  We must enter from the rear, through a window.  Entering their own home through a rear window – the scheme of a thief, yet the only way inside.  Gathering nerve and tightening the protective layers of clothing about them, the tentative returnees inched the window to its highest position.    Taking a deep breath, they crawled through.    And with that, I have to take a deep breath and get on the road.  I got a text from Chris after church that her Mom was steadily sinking.  In every way she knew, she asked me to come without outright asking me to come.  She was concerned about the start of school being so close and the fact that it looks like I'll be filling in as headmaster again.  But I told her that would be fine.  She needed me to be there.  And so I am on my way.  Please pray.   Isaiah 9:6 says, "For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders.  And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace."   Father, once again I ask for peace.  For Chris.  For her Mom and Dad.  For Seaside and Seaside Christian Academy.  Be our Peace.  Amen.