What I Saw at the Gym on Mulberry Street

So alright, it wasn’t really on Mulberry Street.

I’ll leave the location of the sports center unspecified to protect the guilty – my fellow gym rats sporting apparel I deemed disastrous. Call it felonious fashion or what not to wear: it was bad. I wasn’t consciously critiquing, you understand, just letting my mind idle like a car with no place to go.

There was the older man on the treadmill right in front of me, perspiration gleaming off his balding head, big yellow shirt pulled down over shorts too tiny for the terrain they were intended to cover. Hot pants for the geriatric set. (But trust me, they weren’t hot. Not at all.)

On my far right there was a tall, whip-thin, red-faced young mom whose white t-shirt was soaked with sweat. As she spun and turned I had the odd sensation of watching a human barber pole in motion.

And to my left was a teenage girl on a stationary bike. As her thick brown ponytail swung aside I could see the single word embossed on her blue t-shirt: “Whatever.”

Whatever. The ultimate expression of post-modern tolerance. A word smacking of jaded cynicism and  bored dismissal. I-don’t-care-and-you-can’t-make-me.  The total life philosophy of a fifteen-year-old maybe.

Or maybe not. As the ponytail swung the other way, I saw the rest of the imprinting on the back of her shirt.

Whatever, it said. Philippians 4:8.

Hmm…one of my favorite biblical references. The Apostle Paul’s reminder to the people of Philippi to watch what they were thinking about.

“Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.”

BUSTED. While I was trying to discipline my body, my mind had been running amok. And it took the words on a teenager’s t-shirt to convict me.

Whatever is true, whatever
is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely,
whatever is admirable—if anything is
excellent or praiseworthy—think about
such things.

 So I did.

And to think that I saw it on Mulberry Street.

Give It a Rest

When you were young, did you ever notice older people sitting on a park bench without a book or phone or game in hand and wondered how they could “waste” time like that? I always had to be doing something. Heaven forbid that I should be caught without something to read at least when I had a few moments to spare.

But lately God has been teaching me that seemingly idle moments are anything but empty.

Last night I had the luxury of a rare unscheduled evening. Mike had business in the city and Jordan was out. With my three-year MA program beginning the next evening, I was hurrying to finish up writing the final talk for a series of women’s weekend retreats this fall. And then it was as if a quiet inner voice said…stop. Just STOP.  Are you listening?

So I did. I stepped outside into the gathering twilight and parked myself on the glider in our backyard. Our collie, Kelli, lay down watchfully on the grass, a little uneasy that we weren’t going anywhere. I resisted the temptation to pick up the book I had automatically carried outside with me. Instead, I just sat and did not do one single thing.

Except listen…to the castanet beat of the cicadas in the trees and the steel-on-steel rhythm of train wheels meeting the track downtown.

Except feel… the August wind lifting my hair and loosening spent leaves from their moorings in the black walnut tree above me.

Except smell…the scent of late-summer roses and the savory supper on the neighbors’ barbeque grill.

You have my permission, the voice said, to rest. To quiet your body and your soul. To sit and reflect on the world I’ve created. To pray for those who are struggling.

So I did. I gave it a rest.

“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me – watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.”  Matthew 11:28-30 The Message

Feelin’ Like a Kid

Jordan took this photo Sunday night when we walked downtown with Kelli to get ice cream at Tate's

It doesn’t matter what year you are born. Some things in life, like those weird aches and pains or the astonishing age advancement of your kids, make you feel older. But then there are those lovely little gifts that burble forth like the fountain of youth. Experiences that make you feel like a kid again.
This past weekend I asked the two men I live with to list a few things that make them feel they’ve dropped a decade or two.
Jordan, not quite 25, thought a minute and mentioned these:

• “Walking downtown like I used to do on the Cape.
• “Fooling around with my cousins in the pool at Family Camp each year.
• “Buying 25 cent toys from the vending machine with Adam at Happy Gardens in Moundsville.”

Mike, a few decades Jordan’s senior, offered his own list:

• “Making pancake shapes to order for the kids on Christmas morning.
• “Riding my bike or the scooter around Wheaton with you.
• “Doing my swim workout with the college kids.”

(Two out of three of Mike’s have to do with sports. What does that tell you?)
And I didn’t have to think hard at all. My short list of age-defying behaviors includes:

• Enjoying raspberry fudge-chunk ice cream at Tate’s.
• Waiting in line at the one-aisle-wide Popcorn Shoppe in downtown Wheaton.
• Taking time to squeeze old-fashioned lemonade like my mom always did when the men were baling hay.

     (Gosh, all three of mine have to do with food. What does that tell you?)
But here’s the best age-defying activity of all: getting your own student ID.  A week from today I start grad school, and when I got my new ID card this summer I thought I would wriggle right out of my seat with excitement. A student again after all these decades.  Pinch me. Am I dreaming?
Scripture warns us against immaturity. Childish behavior is cute only in kids. But the Bible has kind things to say about childlikeness.
“The Lord protects those of childlike faith,” observes Psalm 116:6. And in Matthew 11:25, Jesus offered a prayer of thanks for things God reveals to the childlike.
I’m in my third trimester of life now, but the prospect of returning to school next week to study under knowledgeable professors makes me feel childlike in the most full- of- wonder way.
I’m feelin’ like a kid again!

Postcard from Heaven

She approached the edge of the pool, grabbed a gun and started firing on the children in the water.

Sounds pretty horrifying, right? Not when the female shooter is your 87-year-old mother-in-law toting a water pistol, and she’s aiming her watery weapon at her own great-grandchildren.

Mom & Dad Rowe, December 2010

I have always admired Mike’s mom’s spirit. Christened Pearl Jean Flannery in her Kentucky birthplace, Jean Rowe has led a remarkable life. Along with Poppa, she raised seven children on lots of love and little money. Easter photos of the Rowe family reveal four daughters and three sons immaculately attired in matching hand-sewn dresses and suits tailored by Mom. For twenty years she and Dad served on the staff of Campus Crusade for Christ in California, and the combination of their love for people and God changed  their piece of the world.

But in recent days, the fire in Mom’s eyes has faded to a soft blue ember. As the years have advanced, her ability to retain new information has retreated.  She knows her children and their spouses, her 22 grandchildren and their husbands and wives, but it’s getting harder every year (hey, for me too!) to sort out the 26 great-grandchildren. This past December, Mom and Dad moved into an assisted living facility not far from Mike’s youngest sister. Yet lovely as it is, the newness of the surroundings aren’t easy for Mom. There are no long-term memories to anchor the thoughts that pull away from their moorings.

So to watch what happened at our annual Family Camp this year was a marvel. A miracle of the most wondrous sort. The Kennedy family sport is football. For the Rowes, the playing field has always been water.

I stood next to Poppa as we observed Mom, held erect by the buoyancy of the water, engage in water wars with the great-grands.  Without taking his eyes off his beloved wife of 68 years, Poppa quietly commented, “At home she doesn’t go to meals, can’t engage in activities. She doesn’t remember. But look at her now!” Maybe it was the chlorine that made his eyes a little red.

And I looked, and laughed, and marveled too. For those moments in that West Virginia pool where she has been playing with her family for 30 years, Mom was free. Free of the constraints of her walker. Free of the need to retain and recall new information. Free to be whom she has always been – a woman of enormous spunk and spark, soul and spirit.

It was a resurrection, I said to Mike. The real Jean has resurfaced, offered a friend. But maybe, more than anything, what I witnessed was a divine reminder.  A reminder that Mom’s body, like all of ours eventually, is slowing down, and some memories have irretrievably slipped their moorings. But each day we move closer to new life and a new body –what I Peter calls new birth into a living hope.

Seeing Mom play in the water again was like getting mail from God.

A postcard from heaven.

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Farewell, Sweet Friend

Esther and her husband, Mel

This past Friday, my friend Esther and I had tickets to attend a musical together. At 3:29 am today, she passed away.

Esther, a vital woman in her 50’s, was chatting with her ophthalmologist a week ago today when her heart inexplicably ceased to beat. Subsequent tests revealed a healthy heart and brain. As far as we know, no coronary attack or stroke took her life. She simply collapsed on a sunny Tuesday afternoon at her eye clinic.

How do you understand the loss of a friend whose life ends without warning?

 I have no appetite for lunch today. I sit instead at my computer and stare at the screen, trying to wrestle meaning out of words. My faith tells me that Esther’s death did not catch her Father and mine by surprise. “You saw me before I was born. Every day of my life was recorded in your book. Every moment was laid out before a single day had passed.” (Ps. 139:16)

So does that mean that God chose to halt the hands of my friend’s life-clock at 2:55 pm last Tuesday? Or that in the inscrutable sovereignty of His will He simply permitted it to happen?

This morning I read a parable from A.W.Tozer’s classic The Knowledge of the Holy that spoke  truth into my soul.

“An ocean liner leaves New York bound for Liverpool.  Its destination has been determined by proper authorities.  Nothing can change it.  This is at least a faint picture of sovereignty.

“On board the liner are several scores of passengers.  These are not in chains, neither are their activities determined for them by decree.  They are completely free to move about as they will.  They eat, sleep, play, lounge about on the deck, read, talk, altogether as they please; but all the while the great liner is carrying them steadily onward toward a predetermined port.

“Both freedom and sovereignty are present here and they do not contradict each other.  So it is, I believe, with man’s freedom and the sovereignty of God.  The mighty liner of God’s sovereign design keeps its steady course over the sea of history.  God moves undisturbed and unhindered toward the fulfillment of those eternal purposes which He purposed in Christ Jesus before the world began.  We do not know all that is included in those purposes, but enough has been disclosed to furnish us with a broad outline of things to come and to give us good hope and firm assurance of future well-being.”

After Esther’s father died two months ago, I offered to get her a copy of Randy Alcorn’s book Heaven, and the book was on my shelf awaiting delivery on Friday.  When the news came of her collapse, I blasted myself with recrimination. Why didn’t I give it to her earlier?

 Yet she doesn’t need the guidebook now. She’s made the journey.

I was praying for Esther and her husband, Mel, on Sunday throughout both services at our church. As Mike and I moved down the aisle prior to the final benediction, our worship team was singing Chris Tomlin’s version of Amazing Grace. The Holy Spirit whispered, Are you listening?

The Lord has promised good to me

His word, my hope secures;

He will my shield and portion be

As long as life endures.

My chains are gone
I’ve been set free
My God, my Savior has ransomed me
And like a flood His mercy rains
Unending love, Amazing grace.

 The chains binding my friend Esther to earth are gone; she’s been set free. I’ll see her again, and the music we’ll experience together will be….heavenly.

 Farewell, sweet friend. We loved you so, and love you still.