Waiting with Hope

It will come when you least expect it.

How I hated that line! 

When you're waiting, hoping, praying...and when your life is focused on that one thing you're waiting for, hearing that it will come when you least expect it seems so silly. 

How could you ever least expect it? It's all you can think about.

As we hope for something, the expectation draws ever closer to us. 

And think of all the things we hope for in our lives. Most of them have a very definite date and time. Jesus says, "Therefore keep watch, you do not know the day or the hour." Matthew 25:13

Both of my children, whose births I longed for, surprised me by proving that we really don't know the day or the hour. Babies have specific due dates, and mine was in July. Even when my water broke in May I didn't take a toothbrush with me to the hospital, and when the doctor told me I was having a baby 8 weeks early, I replied "No, I'm not." 

We thought we knew the plan. Keep watch. You do not know the day or the hour.

Years later we were adopting our son. The paperwork was complete. Everything was in place. I was getting anxious...and called to ask for a date and time. I like to plan. The answer devastated me: "It could be weeks. Don't call us; we'll call you when the time is near." 

The call came only two days later...and I was not expecting to hear it. Keep watch. You do not know the day or the hour.

Watching and waiting are hard. We want to be in control. We want answers today. 

When I was growing up I thought the longest day of the year was Christmas Eve. The presents were wrapped and under the tree, and my child's mind was focusing on the time that evening when the family would gather around that tree and finally open the presents. My brothers and sisters and I were intent on getting to that as quickly as possible. 

My mother had other plans. She knew the importance of watching and waiting...

In my family it was a tradition for the kids to put on a Christmas pageant after dinner (which we had the day to plan, produce and practice). There were costumes to be created, which took most of the dishtowels from the kitchen, but turned us into Mary and Joseph, the shepherds and an angel. If there was a baby in the family, it became Jesus. Later, my baby dolls took on that role. Depending on our ages we had piano, clarinet, viola, flute, trumpet, and even tubas performing. There were always many Christmas carols that would be played in just the right order to tell the Christmas story.

After our traditional lutefisk, meatballs, and lefse dinner (and the washing of every single plate) this Christmas pageant would take place, but it was always followed by one more reading of the Christmas story - passing the large book from hand-to-hand as everyone there took a turn reading.

My mom usually sat at the piano then, and we took out our family Christmas caroling books (yes, we were that family. We had our own caroling books!) and we began to sing one song after another until finally closing with Silent Night.

I find it amazing that when I look back I can remember little Timmy, dressed as Joseph while I was Mary. I can remember how beautifully my dad sang, and how much fun it was to sing every single verse in four part harmony. I remember the little ones just learning to read, enunciating every word so carefully, my mom helping pronounce "swaddling cloths" or "Quirinius". And I remember begging to sing just one more song, even though the presents remained unopened.

My mother knew how to fill the waiting time with activity. But she knew that this activity should point to the birth of Jesus and the true meaning of this holy night. She knew that we must wait with joy and anticipation.

The waiting of Advent is important. It prepares the way of the Lord. It fills us with hope. It is a time to be active; decorating, caroling, baking. But more than that, it is a time to look to the birth of Jesus and to prepare our hearts for His coming.

"Therefore keep watch, you do not know the day or the hour." Matthew 25:13

Find us ready (Tom Booth)

Find us ready, Lord, not standing still.
Find us working and loving and doing your will.
Find us ready, Lord, faithful in love,
building the kingdom that’s here and above,
building the kingdom of mercy and love.

We must wait for the Lord
for we know not the time.
So here and today
we gather and pray,
discovering love in our midst.

We must make straight the path,
God’s love revealed.
With sin cast aside,
God’s mercy alive,
fear not for here is your God.

Lifting up those bowed down,
we prepare for our God.
Rejoice in the Lord,
for hope has been born
in hearts where our God finds a home.

Optional final ending
Brick by brick, stone by stone,
find us working and loving and doing your will.
Find us ready, Lord, faithful in love,
building the kingdom that’s here and above.

A Cup of Coffee

About a week before my mom died we were sitting around her bedside with the hospice nurse, going through what we believed to be the last moments of her life. Her breathing was shallow and slow, with great pauses in between breaths. The lights had been dimmed in her nursing home room, and we were praying, and watching, and waiting. Our wonderful hospice nurse had suggested we call our family, and those who could come were on their way. 

The door to the room pushed openly quietly, and a nurse whispered “Can I get anyone a cup of coffee?”

At that moment my mother  - who we thought was seconds away from dying - sat up and said “I’ll take a cup!”As you can imagine, the entire room erupted in shock and laughter. I’ll never forget that moment!

My mom loved coffee with friends. 

As a little girl I remember how often she would get together for “coffee parties” with the neighbor ladies. Mom was a part of at least one birthday club - a group of friends who just got together each month to celebrate their birthdays. She also a had a strong circle of friends she loved coffee time with, either one at a time or in small groups. Even as she aged, and moved into assisted living, it was a highlight for her to have someone in for coffee, often paired with a coffee cake or some special treat she’d made, or to go out a join a friend or two for good conversation around a cup of joe.

As a young mom it often left me shaking my head. How did she have time for it? I felt like I was always so busy - between my children’s activities, committees, boards, clubs, and of course, working full-time, I didn’t ever feel like I could stop, pour a cup of coffee, and just sit; let alone, plan ahead of time and make a special treat and invite someone to share it with me. And to be honest, I didn’t always feel like I even wanted to. My life was so full of people, and frankly, at times they wore me out. If I had the time for a cup of coffee, I would’ve rather taken it all alone I’m afraid. 

But along came covid. And retirement - the time in my life when I actually do have a little free time and a bunch of of fun friends I love visiting with over a cup of coffee (or a glass of wine). 

To be honest I have learned to really enjoy visiting with friends. I didn’t know what I was missing! 

So now, with Zoom meetings, quick trips into the grocery store with masks, and measuring my time with co-workers when I do get to stop into school (so I don't have to report possible "covid encounters"!) I honestly have to say I miss people. 

Our book club and education sorority meetings are online in Zoom, as are many of the other meetings I attend. Zoom is great - but it certainly makes it harder to have those personal and meaningful conversations. And I am becoming more and more aware of how important those face-to-face conversations are. 

As a covid vaccine appears closer and more inevitable, I pray that I will learn from the events of 2020. Not just learn to be more aware of my health, wash my hands more often, and cough into my elbow - but to learn how valuable my friends are. 

I pray that I will remember how much I value my friendships, and how much I love getting together for a cup of coffee. When this is all over, and we're ready to socially undistance, let's do it, okay? We need eachother!

The Big Game

I've been a coach's wife for most of my married life. Throughout those years I alway said that the best time of every season is the week just prior to the first game. 

Before the first game everyone's spirits are high. The conversations are vibrant. The dreams are huge. Everything seems possible.

We'll beat that rival team. We'll win our Homecoming game. We'll go undefeated. We'll make it to State. Who knows? This might just be THE YEAR!!! 

It's so easy to be hopeful before you've even set foot on the field. Joy abounds - even in the coach's house!

Once the season starts the mood changes a bit. Even with a winning record there are doubts that creep in. Will we maintain our momentum? Will the players stay healthy? Will we make good decisions on and off the field?

I'll never forget the ride home after my husband's first loss as a head football coach. I had gone to the game with his Dad - a football coach himself (recently retired). We played a bigger school in a division up from us, and it was a tough, hard-fought game. In the end, the other team won, and I was feeling bad, both for my husband, and for myself...because I knew how losses can affect the household. There's almost a mourning period after a loss until the expectation and planning of the next game take hold.

As always, the radio was on in the car, and the announcer was reading the results of every game. Staples 21 - Wadena 10; Detroit Lakes 17 - Fergus Falls 10; Grand Rapids 28 - Aitkin 13...

I was staring out the window and feeling pretty blue, and John reached up and turned down the radio. It startled me a bit, and I glanced over at him. Then he said "Laurie, do you notice how, in every game, one team wins and the other team loses?"

I wasn't sure where he was going with this one, but he continued, "Half of the teams that played today lost. Half of them. This might be the first time, but it certainly won't be the last."

He turned the radio back up.

How do you find hope when you just lost the game? 

You start by thinking about the next game. You look at all the ways you can improve on your performance. You practice. You get excited all over again. 

As a spectator I often wondered how the coach got his players motivated at half time when they went into the locker room after being outplayed and outscored the whole first half. 

That coach probably feels like getting on the bus and heading home. 'Probably wants to tell those kids to hit the showers and forget about it. But there's half a game left and you can't quit now.

Good coaches know how to tell those athletes to face the second half with hope. They know what it means to "win the second half" - to play their best, even if it might not be enough to come out on top. To learn from the mistakes of the first half and make fewer errors. To keep fighting, even if winning doesn't seem possible. To hold their heads high. To take on the attitude that a whole new game is starting, and the mistakes of the first half don't matter any more. 

Good coaches know that life is a lot bigger than the game, even if that game is a state championship, or even a Super Bowl. 

Right now, some of us feel a little like halftime in the throws of a losing battle. 

We've made mistakes.

We've focused on the wrong goal.

We've been injured, and we've seen the injuries that others are enduring.

But don't give up hope because this is life! It can't be the time to throw in the towel or take the long bus ride home. We're here. Our friends and families are here. And not only are we the coaches in this, we're also the players in the big game. 

We can start fresh. We can win the second half. We can do our best. We can keep fighting. Most importantly, we can stop focusing on what came before and fix our eyes on what's ahead of us.

Because at the end of this we all want to be able to say:

I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me on that day - and not only to me, but also to all who have longed for his appearing. 2 Timothy 7-8

So do not give up. 

Have hope.

Pay it Forward

Perhaps you heard the news story: over 900 vehicles "paid it forward", picking up the tab of the car behind them for 2 1/2 days! 

How exciting! To enter, or drive through, Dairy Queen and be told that for 125 cars in a row, each customer has picked up the bill, so now your ice cream is free! What else would you do? Of course you'd say "I'll keep it going! I'll pay the bill for the car behind me!" 

It would hardly be a decision you'd have to give much thought to. Of course you would keep the chain going. Of course you'd pay the bill.

And what fun! To know you'd been a part of something so large. 

A simple thing - a game of chance really. 

Perhaps the person who picked up your family's whole meal tab was just in there for a small cone of his own. He paid much more than the price of the cone. And your family: you hit the jackpot! A free meal (or almost free!) It's the luck of the draw. The main thing is you were all going to Dairy Queen. You all knew you were going to spend some money to buy something; what difference to most of us if it's just a little more than we planned to spend. And how much fun if it was much less than you planned to spend. Either way, you win!

You'd join that chain, right? You wouldn't be the one who would say "No. I don't want to pay for the meal of the person behind me. I'll just take this free meal and go."

The fact is, though, that "pay it forward" moments are everywhere we look. And every single one of us can begin the movement...or end it.

Hold the door open for the person behind; pay it forward.

Say "hello!" or "Merry Christmas" to someone you meet on the street; pay it forward.

See someone drop their bag and jump to help pick it up; pay it forward.

Send a note or a card, or make a phone call to a friend; pay it forward.

There are "pay it forward" opportunities in each minute of our day. 

And, yes, I see hope in each person taking advantage of those opportunities to pay it forward. Every single one of them makes our world a little bit better, a bit more kind, a lot more joyous. Paying it forward feels good to the one who receives the gift, but even better to the one who gives.

But my real hope? 

My real hope comes in the very first person who says "I'm paying it forward. I'm not doing this because 125 customers ahead of me have all done it. I'm not doing it because CNN and NBC and the local news station are all here to report it."

I'm paying it forward because right now times are tough. People are sad. The holidays are here, and yet many more people than ever have greater needs than ever. We're struggling because we can't gather as family and friends. We're scared. We're isolated. 

But paying it forward makes a difference. It makes me feel more hopeful. And it makes the world just a little bit better.

Be ye therefore followers of God, as dear children; and walk in love, as Christ also hath loved us, and hath given Himself for us as an offering and a sacrifice to God for a sweetsmelling savor. Ephesians 5:1-2

True Christianity means paying it forward. And that brings true hope to the world.

Finding Hope in Children

I love working with children. I've been in education over 40 years (!) and I could fill books with the funny and amazing - and hopeful - things that children have said and done. They absolutely delight me. 

Before I even considered becoming a teacher I worked in a day care center with 3 & 4 year olds. What energy! One of the little boys called out to me every morning "Hi Glory!! Come play with me Glory!" For weeks I laughed about this, and occasionally tried to correct him by telling him my name was "Laurie". But every day he'd continue to call me Glory. I finally realized that it was because a couple of the teachers in the room greeted everyone with a loud "G'morning Sue! G'morning Mary!" 

Now say that to yourself: "G'morning Laurie" And doesn't it sound a bit like Glory?

Easy to see how my love of the things children say stayed with me the rest of my life. 

Children bring me hope. I could share a million different ways in which I see hope in the eyes of a child.

Visiting Itasca State Park. On the bus ride home a first grader took my hand and asked "Is it always there? Can anybody go there whenever they want?" What a thrill to introduce a child to a place in our community that brings out that kind of response!

Learning to read. Okay - anyone who has ever experienced the wonder of a young child reading for the first time must know that they are witnessing a miracle. 

Playing baseball (or fill in your own activity). There is no bigger knot in a mother's stomach when her own child walks up to bat or, worse yet, to pitch! It may not strike fear in the heart of the child, but I'll never forget the stress I felt from the bleachers. I will also never forget the hope and the pride. :)

First snowfalls. While adults may be cursing the slippery roads or the thought of bringing out the shovels, look at the sparkle in the eyes of the young ones: It's SNOWING!!

Playing a musical instrument. From those first screeches, to the never-ending scales, and then simple melodies; if you've experienced a child learning to play clarinet, or trumpet, or piano, or any number of other instruments, you know the absolutely joy when you first hear a recognizable tune, or better yet, when the whole band plays. 

Treating others kindly. I can't tell you the number of times my heart swelled when the children in my classrooms showed concern for each other. Regardless of the grade I taught or the subject they needed to learn, I always believed my most important lessons in school had to do more with caring for others and building relationships than anything else. 

Looking at a manger scene. My niece Sara's daughter, Marit, bored by "adult conversation" wandered over to our nativity a Christmas or two ago. It's not breakable, and it was cute to see her playing with the shepherds, processing the kings to the manger, and putting baby Jesus in Mary's arms. But the sweetest part was that after everyone left I looked at that nativity and saw the final way Marit had set the scene.

It's the way we all should be "setting the scene" this Christmas. 

Baby Jesus was in the manger. But Mary, Joseph, the shepherd, the kings, and all the animals were standing huddled together - facing that manger. Every eye on the baby. Rather than the typical nativity scene, this group looked to the baby Jesus as if they were in awe of Him. 

As if He were the Savior. 

As if He were the King.

And that's HOPE.

Whether you have little ones sitting beside you, just across town, across the country, or inside your treasured memories, think about the hope with which a child lives. 

Close your eyes and remember the children in your life and the illustrations of hope all around. 

And just to make you laugh I'll tell one more story of hope. For one full school year I walked down the same hallway at Frank White Elementary School at the same time each day, and just at the corner I met a little gal who, for whatever reason, was always walking that same hallway in the other direction. She was a friendly little thing, and one who loved to talk. 

Each day, just after we greeted each other, she would point at me with her pointer finger, and move it up and down as she studied me from head to toe. And then she would stop at something she noticed and say "I like your hair" or "I like your earrings" or "I like your shoes". 

It was one of the highlights of my day. Sometimes I even considered what I might wear that she would notice.

As the year went on this continued daily, until one winter noon we met in the hallway and said our greetings. As always, she stuck that little pointer finger out and looked me up and down. She then began, "I like your..." and there was a very great pause. 

In fact, there was more than a pause, because apparently she found nothing she liked. She hesitated a moment, and then called out "Have a great day!" and skipped off down the hall. 

For years I chuckled about that one, and as I looked myself over in the mirror just before leaving for work I often thought about what it might be that she would point out that day. It really didn't matter though. Because just seeing her face light up, hearing her say my name, looking forward to that friendly little face always filled me with a lightness that I can only call hope. 

I don't know where she is today. But I do know that she taught me a whole lot more than I ever taught her. 

And....I like your sweater!

More Valuable than Birds

I have an unusual relationship with birds. They seem to appear in my life in odd places and at strange times. I know small birds are everywhere, so everyone see them, but, In fact, it almost seems as if they could be following me around....

Trying to tell me something.

Seriously.

Not once, but several times, a large pileated woodpecker has appeared right at my door and tapped on the window. Or I can be sitting alone on the porch when suddenly one will land on the windowsill and startle me with a very loud scream.

But it’s not just woodpeckers.

I was sitting on the deck at our house in Sauk Rapids when a few sparrows began flying around, and then a few more, and pretty soon the entire roof was filled with a huge flock of birds. I had never seen birds do that before, and I don't believe I've seen it since.

One of my most amazing bird experiences was in the airport. I was sitting alone, waiting for a flight and reading my book, when I suddenly noticed a little songbird hopping about. It came right over to me and hopped around and around my chair while I watched it. 

The Bible tells us that God watches over the smallest of birds. Matthew tells us “Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your Heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?” (Matthew 6:26)

If God keeps his eye on even the littlest hummingbird, how much more does he care for me? 

“But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own." (Matthew 6:33-34)

Do a Google search on birds, and why they get close to people, and you will find people who believe that this a warning symbol; an omen or foreboding of something bad about to happen in your life.

There are also those who believe that when a deceased loved one wants to send us a message they do it in the form of birds popping up in our lives. Perhaps they are signs of support; of love from a guardian angel in heaven.

Once again, I don't know. I wish I had those kinds of answers.

What I do know is that birds bring me hope. When I’m feeling down, or lonely, or sad, and then the woodpecker taps at my window, or the songbird hops around my chair, or the sparrows gather on my roof I hear God saying: I care for those birds. How much more do I care for you?

And that’s all I need to feel hope.

Hope. It can be a bit hard to find this year. We've been isolated. We've been scared. We've been shuttered away from those we love. And we've been watching a world that seems ever so much more divided and angry than ever before.

But watch those birds. They are not worrying about tomorrow. Let your spirit soar with them. Let them give you hope.

You are much more valuable than the birds.

Heaven

Today is my sister Kristi's birthday. My older sister, who is perpetually 33. Younger than her son, and way younger than I am. Kristi, who died almost 34 years ago of a sudden and very tragic illness. All these years later I still struggle to find the hope in that.

I do find hope, and great courage, in my nephew Jonathan (Kristi's son) and his beautiful wife Glenda, and their two amazing children, Seth and Audrey. Children who would have had such a loving grandmother in my sister Kris. A son, who gives his all to make a happy life for his family. Kristi would be incredibly proud of them all.

Some people have a vision of heaven where their loved one watches over them; joins them in their daily activities. And if that's how you view heaven, I totally get it. It may be very comforting to believe that.

But no one knows for sure what heaven will be like. 

All I know is that my faith tells me that heaven is a place of true peace, comfort, and joy. A place where all the pain is gone.

So it's way too hard for me to believe that a young mother, taken from her little children, could ever be at peace looking down and not being there. How could there be joy seeing the pain and suffering in your own child's life? How could there be comfort, knowing you will never be able to wipe the tears or make things better? 

How could there be peace for a mom in heaven - even if she was able to see all the way to the end of the story? It's just too hard for me to believe that God would allow a mom to watch from above and not be able to intercede in her children's lives. 

So I have a different idea of heaven. And this one gives me hope.

My sister Kristi loved the beach. She loved being by water. Whether it was a lake in northern Minnesota, by the ocean in Mexico, or even on a cruise ship, she seemed to be the happiest when she was near water. On Potato Lake there's a beautiful, sandy shoreline on the East Arm that receives the most glorious sunsets. Years ago, when this beach held a busy resort, there would be a long line of lounge chairs along that beach. I like to imagine that this is heaven. Kristi's heaven.

I imagine Kristi lounging in one of those chairs - possibly with a drink in her hand that never gets warm. :) There aren't any mosquitos, and none of those biting black flies. There's a great book to read, but only if you feel like reading. There are friends to visit with, but only if you feel like talking. It never feels so hot that you just have to get out of the sun to cool off. The day is perfect.

This. This is how I picture heaven for Kristi. 

And that gives me hope because I know one day we'll join her on that perfect beach. 

In the meantime? We need to live with joy and hope. Kristi would want that. God wants that too.

Waiting with Hope and Courage

Today marks the beginning of Advent, one of the most beautiful seasons of the liturgical year. I have always loved the lighting of the Advent candles, the singing of O Come O Come Emmanuel. I love the preparations for Christmas. The anticipation. Decorating the home, baking cookies, and buying gifts. It's a time of year that makes me feel hopeful and excited.

I often imagine young Mary, pregnant and terrified. Sure, an angel visited her and told her everything would be great, that she was carrying the child Jesus. The King. The Savior.

But would knowing that make things easier? 

Was Mary filled with hope? 

Pope Francis said "Mary in that instant appears to us like one of the many mothers in our world, courageous to the extreme."

Courageous to the extreme. 

You see, hope and courage go hand in hand. 

Pope Francis went on to say that Mary "teaches us the virtue of waiting even when everything appears meaningless." 

These recent days (and the last few months) there are times when I've felt there was nothing more difficult than waiting. And meaningless? Some of this difficult time sure seems that way. 

But Advent? Advent is all about the waiting. 

Now Mary didn't just sit around and fret. There was work to be done - probably even more so back then than there is today. Her preparations were certainly different than ours. Traveling on a donkey while pregnant? Leaving your home? Not knowing the future, but knowing something very big was coming. That's some kind of courage and hope!

It's not like we're waiting in line, with nothing to do, although isolation and quarantine can sometimes feel that way. No, this waiting is more like expectation. Hope! 

We're waiting because we know what there is to wait for, and it's a lot bigger than the end of a period of isolation and quarantine. We're waiting for Jesus.

Regardless of the way we wait, Jesus will come. Christmas will come. We can wait and do nothing, as if standing in line, letting the whole world go by. Quarantined. Isolated. Alone.

Or we can wait with hope and expectation and longing. And while we wait, we prepare. 

So, decorate the house, bake those cookies, buy those gifts. Prepare the way of the Lord, for He is coming, and we need to be ready.

A Different Kind of Thanksgiving

Well, Friends and Family, we did it. We made it through Thanksgiving. Well, at least we made it through Thanksgiving Day.

For weeks we've been looking ahead to this day with trepidation. We knew everything was going to be different. There would be fewer chairs at the table. We wouldn't be traveling. Those who normally joined our gatherings would not be there. 

For some, it would be in total isolation. For most, just a smaller get-together than our Thanksgivings in the past. It was scary, and we were anxious. But we did it. YOU did it.

This morning I heard the stories of the different types of celebrations.

"I made my first turkey."

"It was just the four of us, so we all worked together in the kitchen, everyone helped. It was awesome!"

"I called relatives and friends I hadn't heard from or spoken to in years, just to tell them I was thinking of them."

"We ate dinner while zooming with our whole family. It was almost like being together!"

"We baked lefse, and then made Christmas cookies."

"We scrapped the traditional Thanksgiving feast and had a carry-out meal from our favorite local restaurant."

"We watched Christmas movies and sang Christmas carols."

"I put up the Christmas tree before Thanksgiving."

Hiking. Dressing up. Putting up the lights. Friends, we created a whole new set of memories!

And that gives me hope.

In the book, Think on These Things, author John Maxwell writes "Hope shines brightest when the hour is darkest. Hope motivates when discouragement comes. Hope energizes when the body is tired. Hope sweetens while the bitterness bites. Hope sings when all melodies are gone. Hope bring the victory, when no one is winning. You don't need a better environment. You just need more hope. It's the one thing in your life you can't do without!"

I wish I could say that we're through the worst of it, that there won't be hard days ahead. The truth is, there will be many. But we made it through this one. And that makes all the difference.

Adding Yeast

I love baking. It's one way that I feel like I can do something that people will enjoy. However, I have to admit that I usually don't attempt challenging recipes. In fact, I'm a little embarrassed to say that I've never made real bread dough. So although I make caramel rolls and cinnamon rolls, especially on holidays, I cheat and use the frozen bread dough, and then add in a few ingredients to enhance the flavor, and the calorie count.

Yesterday I decided that since Tom and I are alone for Thanksgiving (so no one else would have to know if I ended up throwing something away!), I would try my hand at homemade pumpkin cinnamon rolls. With yeast. And kneading. And waiting. And hoping that I did everything right and that the dough would rise.

There is a lot of symbolism in that paragraph. 

We spend our lives attempting. And kneading. And waiting. And just hoping that it will turn out all right, that we'll be okay, that what we hoped would happen, would happen. 

As I kneaded I thought about that yeast. The packet I used was called Active Dry Yeast. Now isn't that funny? I love that it's called "active". We are called to action!

If I hadn't put the yeast in correctly. If I hadn't waited for the dough to rise. If I hadn't waited again this morning for the second rise, I wouldn't have had delicious tasting pumpkin cinnamon rolls. 

But no matter what I did - the kneading, the waiting - it would've all been for nought without the yeast. 

And my life - no matter how I live it - has that one ingredient that will allow me to rise too. It's a really small ingredient, and yet it is the most critical. Just hoping without adding the yeast won't make my bread dough rise, no matter what I do. We need the action - we need the yeast - at the center of our lives.

Romans 8:11 tells us "...if the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead is living in you, he who raised Christ from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies because of his Spirit who lives in you."

All we need is yeast...and hope. And for that we have each other. Rise up!

Ice Fishing

If there was ever an illustration of HOPE it would have to be fishing. And an illustration of FAITH would definitely be riding in a vehicle miles out onto the middle of the frozen lake...and then spending the night in a fish house! Usually the ice is cracking and creaking, and it does take a measure of faith to be able to sleep soundly.

Almost once a year Tom and I have spent a weekend out on Red Lake or Lake of the Woods in the middle of the winter with our friends Jim and Candy. The men say we go there to fish, and I must admit that I absolutely love eating freshly caught walleye. For some reason it tastes even better when we're out on the ice in a -30 degree windchill! So the hope is that when we go fishing we will catch fish.

And some years we have caught lots of fish! One year we were catching so many that we weren't keeping any. Catch and release with every one. I asked Jim "Why don't we just leave? We can catch our limit and be in a nice restaurant in time for dinner?" 

But most years there's been a little more "fishing" and a lot less "catching". 

Regardless of our success, we have always enjoyed our time on the ice. We've also come home with many memories, some good stories to tell, and all kinds of inside jokes. What I've learned is that even though we go with the hope of catching fish, whether we catch them or not isn't important. What is important is the time we've spent with people we care about, the laughs we've shared.

Which brings me back to hope. 

Henry David Thoreau once said Many men go fishing all of their lives without knowing that it is not fish they are after.  

This year as we look ahead to Thanksgiving and Christmas it's hard not to feel down. We're missing out on so many of the things we enjoy. It's all so different. Perhaps we're going fishing without knowing what we're going after. Perhaps we're planning for the holidays without taking the time to  prepare our hearts for what truly matters. So...

Let's add some joy and hope into our holiday season. Send that extra note to a friend. Bake all your favorite cookies. Decorate with every last piece of tinsel you can find. Play games with the kids. Sing your favorite Christmas carols. Make memories.

We don't know what the holidays will bring, but we know what we're celebrating. 

When you look back years from now on Christmas 2020 wouldn't it be wonderful if you could remember it as the year that Christmas was even more meaningful than it ever had been before.

Each year Chris Hawkey from KFAN radio posts a Christmas video. This year he talks about making Christmas 2020 wonderful. Listen. Enjoy.

What Else Can I Do?

On a snowy February morning my Dad had a massive heart attack and died very suddenly. Less than a year later, also in February, my sister (a young mother of only 33) passed away. Our entire family was devastated, but no one more than my mom. 

She always said that losing her husband was hard, but that it was hard in a way you could deal with. Many of her friends had lost their spouses. She grieved his passing, but was getting "back to normal" just as my sister's death occurred.

One doesn't expect to lose a daughter. It's not normal or natural. Kris was a mother of two young children. She had so much of life left to experience. It was really easy to be angry. This wasn't fair. It wasn't right.

That summer I was sitting quietly with Mom in her kitchen, sharing a cup of coffee, and probably ice cream. I asked her "How are you doing?"

And this is when she told me one of the biggest secrets of living a life of hope. She looked at me with tears in her eyes and she said "I just keep going on. I wake up every day and I do what has to be done. And every day, I've lived another day. What else can I do?"

What else can I do?

I've thought about that question a lot. So many people have survived through enormous tragedy. People living through the uprising in Rwanda. Men, women and children who survived years in prison camps in Auschwitz. Soldiers serving in Iraq and Afghanistan. When I read these stories of suffering and horror I am shocked at what the human spirit can endure. 

What do these people do? They just keep going on. Waking up every day, doing what has to be done. What else can they do?

And right now we're in this incredibly beautiful and joyous time of year, looking forward to Thanksgiving feasts, family get-togethers, holiday parties, Christmas concerts, and the birth of our Savior. 

And everything is different.

We're forgoing our gatherings, canceling our travel plans, and, if you're like me, feeling a weight of sadness because it's all so different. But we can do something: we can get up every day and do what needs to be done. We just keep going. 

If people who have suffered enormous losses can do it, we can too. And maybe, just maybe, we will find new little things to find joy in. A game with our family. A Zoom call. Decorating the house. A letter from an old friend. A Christmas carol on the radio. A Hallmark movie. Hearing once again the story of the birth of the baby Jesus. There is so much to celebrate in this wondrous season. And besides - 

What else can we do?

Lord of all Hopefulness

We called it the "all day" song, and it was my favorite hymn in college. 

Lord of all hopefulness, Lord of all joy,
Whose trust, ever child-like, no cares can destroy,
Be there at our waking, and give us, we pray,
Your bliss in our hearts, Lord, at the break of the day.

My goal in writing is to find hope and joy in life. When I wake up each morning, I have this amazing view of the lake outside my window. It's an incredible sight, made more beautiful I think when the seasons change. The fall colors are spectacular, the summer green leaves are lush, the snow-covered trees are sparkling! It's the reason I love to sleep with the lake-side blinds open; what a joy to wake up to! 

Lord of all eagerness, Lord of all faith,
Whose strong hands were skilled at the plane and the lathe,
Be there at our labors, and give us, we pray,
Your strength in our hearts, Lord, at the noon of the day.

Help me, Lord, to be active. To continue to labor even in my retirement years, and to continue to marvel at all I can do because of your gifts. Because I have more time on my hands I often spend it on social media. I find that social media, more than anything else, sucks the joy and hopefulness right out of me. I used to take so much pleasure in viewing the new babies, family updates, exciting vacations, and other news posted by my friends and family, but so much of it now is political and divisive. It turns my hopeful joyful mood into anger, frustration and sadness. 

Help me, Lord, to spend more time on activity and less time on social media.

Lord of all kindliness, Lord of all grace,
Your hands swift to welcome, your arms to embrace,
Be there at our homing, and give us, we pray,
Your love in our hearts, Lord, at the eve of the day.

Bless my family, Lord. My husband, our children, nieces and nephews, brothers & sisters (and their spouses), aunts, uncles and cousins, and all those people I consider to be family, even though we're not related. In this time of covid, when we can't embrace or even be together, help me to reach out and show your love in my heart. A phone call, a letter, an email. Remind me that even when we can't be together there are ways I can show love to these precious ones. 

Lord of all kindliness, Lord of all grace: help me to be kind and to live with grace.

Lord of all gentleness, Lord of all calm,
Whose voice is contentment, whose presence is balm,
Be there at our sleeping, and give us, we pray,
Your peace in our hearts, Lord, at the end of the day.

Peace. 

I remember singing this on Wednesday night communions at Concordia, and thinking it was the most lovely sound I'd ever heard. A large group of believers, gathered together, praying and sharing and singing. 

One of the things I miss most during this time of covid-19 is singing. Maybe you do too. So, turn up the volume and sing along. I wish you hope and joy in your day, and as the day comes to an end, I wish you peace.

Traditional Irish Tune
Lyrics by Jan Struther, 1931

Faith

 Faith. 

There is no hope without faith. Without faith, hope is simply a list of wishes and dreams.

I hope that friend or family member who is sick will get well.

I wish a vaccination for covid-19 would be successful.

I hope people will be more kind once this election is over.

I wish we could take that trip we've been dreaming about.

Without faith, I'm grasping at straws. Without faith, listing out all these things I hope for can just throw me into the pits of depression. Just because I live with a hopefulness that a better day will come, it may not. And then what am I stuck with? 

Faith tells me that, regardless of what happens, God is on my side. No matter what, He walks with me. He gives me the strength to get through. He supports me, and lifts me up, and helps me to see that, even though I didn't get what I wished for, I can still live with joy.

I have my uncle's funeral bulletin from many years ago, and my mom told me that this poem was also on my grandpa's folder. Faith tells us all that God has promised to us:

God hath not promised skies always blue,
Flower-strewn pathways all our lives through,
God hath not promised sun without rain,
Joy without sorrow, peace without pain.

But God hath promised 
Strength for the day,
Rest for the labor,
Light for the way,
Grace for the trials,
Help from above,
Unfailing sympathy
Undying love.

I fully believe that living with hope and joy means living with faith. God loves us. What could be better than that?

Sunset

I have always loved sunsets. Don't get me wrong, sunrises are great. I just usually don't take the time to enjoy them (or I sleep through them!) But sunsets are beautiful...and they arrive at the perfect time of the day.

Tom  and I have been fortunate enough to do more traveling in the last 5 years. We have tens of thousands of pictures of our trips, along with all the other pictures we take throughout the year. Fall leaves, mountains, the lake, deer, loons, family. We take pictures of everything. But I'm guessing a thousand of those pictures (at least!) are of sunsets. 

Perhaps it's because we've traveled to spots where the sunsets are so visible: Florida's Gulf Coast, Mexico, Alaska, California, Canada...we've usually been able to catch a gorgeous sunset or two. 

It's funny how, when you photograph a sunset, you keep taking pictures every minute or less. You get every angle: kneel down, pose a couple in silhouette, try to take a selfie. You snap the beginnings of the sunset, each step as the sun inches to the horizon, every time a seagull, pelican or sailboat enters into view, just as it touches the horizon, and then, sometimes for an hour or more, the sky and clouds and stars, as the glow from the sun casts its light and color.

A sunset is a way of saying "Today is done. Tomorrow will be better." It's like my mom used to say: "Go to bed. Sleep. Things will look better in the morning."

On a particularly cloudy, rainy day, we often skip our pause to enjoy the sunset and just move on with our evening. And I remember very clearly the days we were stunned to see the sun peak out just as it hit the horizon, or not even see the sun, but be overwhelmed by gorgeous colors all across the sky. 

Sunsets are hope. Hope for a better tomorrow. We can't always see it, but the sun does set every day. It closes that chapter in our lives. It sets the stage for a new day.

Go to bed. Sleep. Things will look better in the morning. 

And here we are...