These are a Few of My Favorite Things!

Our family loves musical productions. Boy 2 has practically memorized the soundtrack to Phantom of the Opera and Boy 1 is writing a Requiem. It is just as likely to find us gathered on a Friday night to watch a movie version of a Broadway show as it is to see us viewing a sci-fi or fantasy flick. Just recently we enjoyed Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat.

When the boys were younger favorites were Mary Poppins and The Sound of Music. We still enjoy the refrain, "These are a few of my favorite things!"

One of my favorite things is the comments on the blogs I write. Some leave them here in Blogger, while others post them in a Facebook link. Still others tell me what they remembered while reading my blog the next time they see me in person. The thing all these comments have in common, though, is the sharing of stories and memories invoked in readers by whatever I wrote.

Years ago a very wise woman told me that one of the most powerful ways we can minister to others is in providing them a way to share their stories. Not only does the sharing bring joy to the sharer (or healing, or peace, or just a chuckle over a silly memory), but it also reveals the connectedness of humanity.

I have been deeply blessed in the sharing of my various tidbits. I have enjoyed the kind remarks that my writing was well done. I have thrilled over some of my own memories and the opportunities to reveal to you the amazingness of the various people I am honored to know.

And I have thoroughly enjoyed the stories and memories and revelations you have shared in return.

So, when the dog bites, when the bee stings, when I'm feeling sad...I will remember many of your stories and know that things are not so bad.

Mitigon the Mighty and Sira the Strong

My wonderful husband just finished a mini-renovation of my home office as a Christmas gift to me. In the sorting and reorganizing of my office things, I came across a Christmas gift he created for me 13 years ago.

In 1995 we were living in Croatia and awaiting the birth of Boy 1. Through circumstances beyond our control we had moved only two weeks before Christmas into another apartment, yet Mark still found time to create a timeless gift...a book, a love story just for me.

It is titled Mitigon the Mighty and Sira the Strong: A True-Love Tale for Christine Parker. Not only did he write this original three chapter short story, but he turned it into a lovingly adorned book which he bound himself.

The tale is the story of a king and queen of neighboring kingdoms who are brought together through the suffering of her people and their shared love and service for all people and for God. Mitigon was called Mighty because he was so full of love that his subjects could think of no better word to describe him. Sira's people called her Strong because she was "the kindest, most generous person in the kingdom."

As the story progresses, the two marry and ultimately sacrifice themselves and a life happy ever after in mitigating the suffering of Sira's people. When Sira offers the last drops of water in her drought-ruined land to a dying child, she dies in the boy's stead. Mitigon discovers the final sacrifice of his beloved upon his return from his own kingdom with water and other supplies for Sira's people.

Both kingdoms mourn the loss of Sira the Strong such that their tears flood the plains and high places of her kingdom and the drought is relieved as, "In the midst of grief, God made flowers bloom once again."

Mitigon, weeping over his bride and lovingly caressing her cheek, feels the warmth slowly passing back into her lifeless form. "Once again," the tale tells, "God had turned tears of sorrow into tears of joy."

At the point in our life together when Mark wrote me this story, God had already turned sorrow into tears many times. He had made us witness to His working of sadness to joy in the lives of countless others. And he had allowed us every time to return to the warmth of each other's might and strength.

Now, 13 years later, this story is more real than I could ever have imagined. I thank my God daily for my Mitigon the Mighty.

Inspired to Look More Closely

I never really saw him for the great man he was. By the time I met him he was 70-ish and had been retired for many years, and I knew him primarily as Dr. Jack's brother. He had the persona of a jolly old man who never tired of telling me blonde jokes (which I loved!). He was famous for his jokes and would e-mail really good ones to all his friends.

But there was so much more to him than I ever saw.

I attended his funeral yesterday and was moved by the story of his life. Raised on a farm, he went to college and became a successful accountant. He was an accomplished musician and during WWII often was called on to play Taps for fallen soldiers. He and his wife stayed married until her death in the early 1990s and raised two daughters together. One of his daughters spent 30 years of her 37-year life in an iron lung due to the effects of polio. Not wishing her to be denied more of life than she already had, he designed and built a "portable" iron lung so that she could go on short trips with the family.

He served God's Kingdom as deacon, elder, and, most important, faithful child of God. After retiring he spent 13 years in nearly full-time volunteer service digitizing the card catalog for the largest theological library in the south. At the church he and his surviving daughter, who grew into a woman who displayed his same passion for serving others, and her family attended, he built the church's library into one of the best church library's around.

All the while he lived a deeply frugal, but not ungenerous, life and by the time of his death had contributed $50,000 to the endowed scholarship fund created in loving memory of his wife and dedicated to the training of God's ministers on earth.

I don't blame myself for not really seeing him. We cannot truly see the depths of everyone with whom we cross paths. I don't know that my relationship with this laughter-loving man of God would have changed had I known his heart more deeply, but I do know that in his death he has inspired me to look closely and pay rapt attention to those I do have the blessing of truly knowing and seeing in this life.

Oops, late again!

Whenever I meet a new friend for lunch or coffee I always tell her not to fret if I am running late, because I will be late. But only by about 5 or 10 minutes. I'm the late friend. I always show up...about 5 minutes late. I hate that about myself. I've tried desperately to change; but there is always that one last thing I could squeeze in. A small basket of laundry. A quick stop at the bank. A short report at the office. Somehow, though, that one last thing always takes about 5-10 minutes longer than I predicted. So just stop doing that last thing, right? Well, I tried that recently on the way to see Beth and Fran. I was so proud for being on time, only to realize I was still 5 minutes late but the basket of laundry was still on my couch.

It seems I have started this blog in similar fashion. After seeing the movie Julie & Julia I was inspired (by the daily writing, NOT by the cooking). After looking so forward for so many years to turning 40, I decided to begin a blog on my 39th birthday chronicling the remaining 365 days until the long awaited Big One. Well, yesterday was my 39th birthday, which makes me about 5 minutes late if you consider this a year long event.

Nonetheless, it is begun. My life in this 40th year is not what I would have predicted 20 years ago. Rather, it is far more than I could ever have even thought to imagine. Imperfect, of course. But marvelous to be sure!