Memory Lane

My family is in town this weekend. Yesterday I had breakfast with Mom and one of my dear friends. We started swapping childhood stories about road trips. We talked about the games we used to play (I Spy, License Plate from Every State, Count the VW Bugs). Did anyone else play those?

My brother and I also played "The Cow Game". In this game you got one point for each cow on your side of the car. But if you passed a cemetery on your side, all the cows died and you had to start over. My brother also liked to play the "Hey, Cow!" game. This consisted of yelling out of the window at the cows. You got a point for every cow that looked your way in response.

At the time, my brother and I were usually just concerned about how long it would take to get there. I remember my Mom coming up with a system to help us understand the length of time in our terms. She would say, "It's only one Mr. Rogers and two Sesame Streets (two and a half hours)."

Years have gone by and a lot has changed, but one thing remains the same from those road trip days. I still often find myself asking, "How long until we get there?" Today that question is usually directed toward God when I get impatient and wish I could skip the journey to wherever He's taking me.

But years from now I'll probably look back and say the same thing I do when I think about those long hours spent in that big van with the people I love, "Thank you, God, for every mile we traveled together."

Every family seems to have road trip stories. Every family also seems to have those random family portraits that no one has looked at for twenty years. So here's me and my road trip posse--Dad, Mom, and little brother Stephen. Look now before they make me take it down.

Over the river and through the woods...

...to Grandmother's house I go!

I'm visiting my Grandma and Grandpa in a town about an hour away this weekend. My Mom and Dad will also be there. They live in Texas where I grew up.

My grandparents are amazing. They got married when my Grandma was only fifteen and my Grandpa was just a little bit older. They've been married over sixty years.

My Grandma dropped out of high school when she got married. She later went back to school and not only got her bachelors degree but a masters as well. She taught English to high school students for many years. Ironically, she taught the two years she missed when she dropped out. When she talks about it, she gets tears in her eyes and says, "The Lord restores."

My Grandpa can catch fish like there's no tomorrow. He's great with his hands and was a welder for many years. He knows how to fix anything and everything. The two of them are well-loved by our family and their entire community.

Last year my Grandma was in a car wreck. I stayed in the hospital with her for a few days. If I had a dime for every time someone said, "Your grandparents are very special people" then I'd be a rich woman today. And I do feel richly blessed by their legacy of love and faith.

Here are a few of my favorite photos of my Grandma and Grandpa...

Engagement picture

Grandma as a young mom with my Aunt and Dad

50th wedding anniversary (and now they've been married over 60 years!)

Beauty in Brokenness

I wrote this a few months ago after facilitating a grief support group for the first time. As I've done counseling this week, it keeps coming to mind...

Lord,

Life can be so hard.

We are so fragile…

all of us one breath away from eternity.

We forget until tragedy comes

and we are reminded

how we are all like flowers of the field.

And yet, You love us.

You value us.

You gave Your life for us.

But You also allow us

to be broken.

How do we make sense of that?

Where is the beauty in the shattered pieces?

We want You to make

something lovely of our lives

but more often it is more like a mosaic—

beauty out of a million broken pieces—

than the flawless work of art we imagine.

So, help us, Lord.

Give us strength in our brokenness.

Let us say with Job,

“Though He slay me,

yet will I trust Him.”

Is there a harder prayer to pray?

I do not know of one.

Come to us, take our pieces,

use them for Your purposes

Until we see, as You do,

The beauty in the brokenness.

My favorite post from a fellow blogger on finding beauty in brokenness is by Angie Smith from Bring the Rain. I hope you'll take a moment to read The Past and the Pitcher.