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Tell it.

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My mother-in-law can attest that I was never a big fan of having my picture taken.  While I’ve always taken pictures, in part, to document our life, it wasn’t until two years ago that I really began to appreciate the power of a photograph.  Thanks, in large part, to my love for creativity, my dad’s terminal diagnosis, and two bloggers committed to the power of pictures to tell a story…Ali Edwards and Becky Higgins.  Their blogs and projects inspired me, and a few on-line photo classes, after the gift of a new camera, led me out of my shutter fear.

For a long time, I looked at photography with a certain level of formality.  They were preserving a piece of the past.  Yet, when I looked at really old, old pictures…you know…the black and whites from days gone long by…I was enthralled.  Who were they?  What were their lives like?  What did their relationships hold?  As pictures were expensive, many of those photos contain people dressed in their best, stiff and proper.

Looking back at pictures of my youth, I find an even stronger sense of connection.  Seeing pictures of me, that I can barely remember, standing with our Great Dane, Alex, or hanging on to a stuffed animal dressed in my favorite pajamas tug not only at my memories but also at my heart.  Those pictures I truly treasure and always have, because they help me to remember what I too easily have forgotten.

But it was not until this moment…this simple picture that I realized the power of a camera.  That it can do more than document a stage of life, it can capture a powerful emotion.  Looking at this, there is nothing special to it.  It is a picture of “weeds” by many people’s’ standards, but here…it is the moment when I gained a new perspective.

Here I was standing at the gate of my dad’s garden distraught at the idea of having to let go of him all too soon.  Nothing was making me feel better.  Not the tears.  Not the song.  Not the sunshine.  Not the warm gate.  Not being away from the metal bed that spoke of his looming departure.  Not a thing.  I just couldn’t see a way out of the pain.  In facing death’s hold, I could find nothing pleasant.

But as the tears slowed and my eyes began to clear, it was there that I spied one of those little white daisy flowers with the yellow centers.  At that moment, I realized that life goes on.  While I don’t mean that easily or contritely, it was one of my “ah-ha” moments.  I looked at that flower and its simple beauty, and contemplated that life has its stages.  No matter how we try or how much I wanted to argue with it, we can’t get away from it.  However, if we focus on the beauty, then maybe–just maybe–the pain can gain a new perspective even if it doesn’t go away.  That maybe there was beauty right here, right at the same time as this pain.

At that moment, I longed to document that thought as reminder for the days to come.  But I was standing at the gate with no pen, no paper, and little to no energy to go find some.  It was then that I realized I had my I-phone in my hand, and in essence, a camera.  I pulled it out and snapped a picture.  I knew that when I would later come back to the photo, I would understand why I took it.  As I looked through the camera to steady the picture, I felt this calming presence sweep over me.  A peace that I wanted to remember.  And what I found was that as I took more pictures, I found more peace.

And that principle guided me through the rest of my dad’s life.  It brought me courage to bring out my camera or my phone, and take the shot even though I was a little afraid or tired or emotionally spent.

Taking pictures brought me peace when all I could see was pain and turmoil.  Looking through the lens often helped me to regain balance and find fresh perspective.  And so, I found this new passion helping me to record as many moments as I could.

Not just for austerity’s sake but for the emotion that I was feeling…that we were feeling.  Knowing that in the rush of days ahead, we would not remember many of those moments if a picture hadn’t encapsulated and frozen them in time.  That life is filled with all sorts of moments, and it would be a shame–a misrepresentation–if we only left behind for others, the cock-eyed view that life is easy, pleasant, and always good.  That death can only be remembered in an obituary or a memorial card.

What I found with much excitement and hope is that pictures do not have to be perfectly posed to carry their weight and earn their value.  They just need to be about life.  I don’t have to only see smiles to capture the beauty of the day, even when that day is filled with great sadness and a feeling of being lost in a sea of unchartered emotion.

I want my son to look back at those pictures seeing how we lived life both in good times and bad.  That sometimes tears and sadness are the best measure for the situation.  I want our pictures to be about life, real life.

You see, some day, someone will look back and want to know more.  Being that we  have the power and ability, I want show them what our lives were made of.  To feel and read about how we lived life.  I want them to know that our moments had details.  That life is much like a river, it has to be navigated.  So this is my story today, and the motivation behind why I share my photos and my words.  My prayer is that you will realize how important your story is in this journey that we share and call life.

“Tell it to your children, and let your children tell it to their children, and their generation to the next.”  Joel 1:3

In the garden of my memory

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“Love never fails.”  ~1 Corinthian 13:5

“Love is not proud.

Love does not boast.

Love after all matters the most.”

It was about this time last year when the fields had a golden hue to them.  The sun was still warm, and yet, there was a change in the air.  I remember standing at the gate of my dad’s garden.  This big, billowing garden that used to be our horse arena when I was a teen.  Around and around, I would ride my horse, Buffy, training for our horse shows.

Much time has passed since then.  The horse shows ended as I went off to college, got married, and entered law school.  My dad, in his wisdom and love of gardening, turned the riding arena into our family garden shortly after his grandchildren entered into the picture.

It became our ritual to plant it each spring.  He loved the garden and loved what it yielded.  I learned from him how to can tomatoes, and in the years just prior to his passing, I tried my hand at pickling and salsa.  He loved my pickles, and loved that I was interested in what he loved.

Feeling the warmness of the gate in my hand in the late summer sun, I stood there quietly with tears streaming down my face.  How did we get here?

“Love does not run.

Love does not hide.

Love does not keep locked inside.”

You see, a year ago, right before Labor Day, we had arrived back at his home after weeks at Mayo Clinic.  There we had learned that he was dying.  It was there in a hallway, in my pain, a song spoke quietly to my heart.  As I stood at the fence, listening to that song and looking at the garden, I wept.

It’s funny how we are designed.  Our bodies–they are amazing things.  We are so much more than our minds can comprehend.  You see, when things are scary, uncertain, painful–especially when painful–our bodies detail all of the surrounding information for future reference.  It is how sometimes people get trapped with their memories after experiencing something particularly tragic, like a soldier watching a friend die in a battle.  But it also happens in the tragedies of life that befall all of us.

“Love is the river that flows through.”

It has been awhile since I have listened, truly listened, and thought upon that song.  However, the other day, I saw it on my playlist and decided to stop hedging around it. I pushed play wanting to remember my dad.  In fact, I played it over and over again while on a walk.  What had once been a tremendous comfort to me, now thrust me back into the past as if it was only yesterday.  I could feel the warm fence.  I could see the yellow flowers.  I could smell the end of summer.  As these moments danced in front of me, I knew the song and the memory were beckoning me to draw closer.

So I hurried home feeling a strong desire to write.  With pen in hand, words just flowed out and then…then came the tears, the sobs and the pain.  I cried so hard that I think I startled my husband and son.  They both came in to check on me, but quietly disappeared when I did not look up.

“Love will sustain.

Love will provide.

Love will not cease at the end of time.”

Knowing that grief and moments like this have a purpose, I waited patiently to understand the pain.  And there, in the corner of my mind, sat my father’s hospital bed.  I wrestled away from it for the moment, not wanting to look, but I knew it wasn’t going anywhere until I came back to it.

You see, I didn’t like what it represented.  This medical necessity that he needed for the days ahead, in all its cold metal frame and flimsy, thin mattress, stated what none of us wanted to see.  Now–and yes, back then–I couldn’t bear to look at it.  I could do what I had to do to put it where it needed to be, but stare it…absorb it…accept it?  I couldn’t.

“Love will protect.

Love always hopes.

Love still believes when you don’t.”

To me, it spoke sharply and cruelly of the end…something I didn’t want to believe….not then, and yes, sometimes, even not now.  The coldness, the smallness, the lack of warmth or comfort no matter how we tried to disguise it–it spoke of pain, no more hope, and loss.  For me personally, I could barely breathe looking at it.  It smacked of the realization that there was no way for me to stop the train that was coming down the tracks to pick up my dad.  Darn, that bed for what it represented, for being so blatantly harsh in its demands!

So in my desire to escape the reality of what it was screaming, I pulled out my headphones and turned on my I-pod.  I needed to shut out the message.  And there waiting was that song.  The one that had comforted me all the way home from Mayo; the one that spoke loudly of my dad’s very fiber and being.  But…much to my surprise and horror, it pushed me over the edge.  As soon as I could, almost immediately, I fled my parents’ room.  Out the door, through the living room, looking at no one, I fled outside. I had to flee or I would have been reduced to a weeping pile on the floor, and I couldn’t…just couldn’t do that.

“When my heart won’t make a sound.

When I can’t turn back around.

When the sky is falling down.

Nothing is greater than this

Greater than this.”

So there, I stood at the garden.  This place where dad and I had delighted to be, listening to a song that now suddenly seemed to speak also of the end.  Looking down, dandelions, in a gentle breeze, waved with their full blooms slowly releasing the last remnants of their very being.  In front of me, the tall grass was bending under the weight of a summer of over growing.  The very bottoms of their leaves turning a deep yellow and orange.  Not far away were flowers spent with only a bloom or two left.  There, at that moment, the world and this song seemed to speak of what was coming; what would not survive much longer; and yet, of what does not fail even though it appears to be the end of its time.

Looking back, almost a year later, these painful memories of the days before his passing creep back in like the sunshine through a kitchen window on a late summer afternoon.  Without warning, they tumble in.  Interestingly, though, I am finding in the ruins of this pain…that my dad’s love is still very much here.  Sifting through the hurt and the memories of those days, I can feel it strongly.  Maybe even more strongly than before.  I have not found my love for him to have diminished either.  That despite this pain, his love is rising to the surface as this grief passes through.  Truly, his love has not ceased despite the end of his time.

“Love is right here.

Love is alive.

Love is the way, the truth, the life.”

Knowing my dad, he would want each of us to realize that love…it is the key…within us and in each other.  Once I had asked my dad how he could tolerate someone who treated him and those he loved so poorly, and he said “Because I love her.”  It was literally love that allowed him not to react, be disgruntled or overcome by hate.  It drove him to embrace, to find kindness, to tolerate, and to care.

Love is the one thing that can unite us, bring us together, heal our pain, cause us to forgive, help us to set aside our differences, to overlook offenses…love is what draws us closer together.  It cannot fail.  No cold bed can overcome it.  No evil can stop it.  Not even death is greater than the power of love.  And I now firmly know, it is by such love that he will always, always be with us.

“Love is the river that flows through.

Love is the arms that are holding you.

Love is the place you will fly to.
Love never fails you.”  ~Brandon Heath, Love Never Fails, 2011

“And now these three remain: faith, hope and love.  But the greatest of these is love.”  ~1 Corinthians 13:13

What do you see in a cloud?

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It started one morning back this winter.  I was walking by myself and looking at the sunrise.  Off in the distance was a big billowing cloud with gentle brushing of pink rising on it as the sun broke over the horizon and climbed in the sky.

I had been out walking the morning of our first Easter assembly.  For some reason as I rounded the bend to head towards home, I found myself missing my dad so much that my lip began to tremble.  In a fond memory, I thought of how he had come to my rescue one of the assembly weekends the year before.  He just appeared at my door a little before 8:00am on a Saturday morning to help wrap Easter baskets.  Mark had been called out-of-town and my niece (my sister Robin and her husband Leo–they were my helpers) had come down with the flu.  Though they had planned on staying the night, they ended up going home in the wee hours of the morning.  My dad heard them arrive.  He told me that he knew then that he needed to come so he got up early, despite feeling awful, and drove down.  There he stood on my doorstep…an answer to a literal prayer for help…without me even asking…yes, that was my dad. 

As I walked down the road reflecting on that moment, I suddenly felt as if he was very near.  For some reason, I looked around and then up.  I felt so very close to him as I looked at this beautiful cloud…it was turning pink, looking so soft and majestic.  The thought brought me much peace and comfort, so wanting to document this process of grief, I took out my phone and snapped a picture of it.  Really, just for me….or so I thought.  To remember that cloud.  To remember that moment that seemed so comforting.  To remember that maybe he really isn’t that far away…

So I filed the picture away.  Don’t you love those digital storage devices?  Actually I am quite grateful for them.  In June, I began trying to catch up on printing off those pictures and putting them into my 2012 album.  As I came to that week, I printed that picture and journalled my thoughts, not wanting to forget it.

Fast forward.  For the last 9 years, we have gone camping in Traverse City with my siblings and parents.  This was our first year without my dad.  We all started out strongly committed to carrying on this tradition, but as it drew closer, it became harder.  I thought I was doing well until we pulled out of my driveway.  The thought of going north without my dad was almost more than I could bear.  You see, he was always the most excited…giddy like a school child!  Big smiles, everything was great, and enthusiasm that could ignite a fire in the coldest of souls.  That was him, and boy, how I missed the build up of excitement in him.  But by the time, we reached our destination, I was excited to arrive…knowing he wouldn’t want me to be sad or cry too long…that just wasn’t my dad.  And…how can you not love Traverse City?

My parents had a boat when we were young.  I actually remember riding in it and I couldn’t have been much more than 4 years old.  When I was in my teens, they bought another and summers were spent tubing on the reservoir near their house.  Lots of fond memories of water and boats.  As life has it, last year, Mark and I took the plunge and bought a used one.  My dad came down to take a look at it and tell us what he thought.  He loved it and told me, “That’s the one!”  Later, he quietly shared how glad he was that we had bought that one…he felt strongly that it was perfect for us.  And he was right.  We love it!

This year was our second year out on the bay with it.  We took it up last year, and I was blessed to be able to spend some time with my dad on it.  The picture below is his last catch…a big small mouth bass…he loved fishing!  That trip was the beginning of when the cancer returned.  He spent much of it not feeling good…he told us that he wished his back felt better (the doctors thought he had pulled a back muscle) so that he could get up on water skiis again.  As with life, sometimes, things are just not meant to be…

This year, as we floated on the bay watching the sunset, I again spotted a cloud that made me feel closer to him.  Please know that not every cloud makes me feel that way…just some and this was the first time since back in February.  I was puzzled at my feelings, and left wondering why did looking at that cloud trigger such a feeling of closeness to my father?  I pondered it for a while but to no avail, and then decided to just let the comfort flow over me despite the lack of logic to it.  I didn’t fight trying to understand, but rested in the beauty of the clouds and sunset.

The next morning I decided to spend some time in God’s Word before my guys got up.  I opened my Bible to Daniel 7.  For some reason, verse 13 caught my attention: “In my vision at night I looked, and there before me was the one like a son of man, coming with the clouds of heaven.”  I continued reading on, but kept coming back to the end of that verse, specifically to the clouds of heaven.  At that point, I wasn’t thinking of the previous night, nor of clouds, nor of my dad.  I was just following the nudging (the pull) to explore it more.  As I read the note, I was surprised to learn that “the clouds of heaven portray the Son of Man as divine; throughout the Bible CLOUDS REPRESENT the His majesty and awesome PRESENCE…Revelation also records Christ coming with the clouds.”  (capitalization emphasis, mine).  Life Application Study Bible, note to Daniel 7:13, 14.

I was a little shocked.  Was that why I feel the majesty of God when I look at His sky? And then it hit me…often my greatest comfort in the most painful moments of this grief is in knowing and trusting that my dad is now with God.  Remembering that he is in heaven catches me from wishing too hard for him to be here.  My mind shifted to that photograph in February, then to the sunset the night before.  Was there something more in this?  Something very personal to truly help me understand the reason and depth of this feeling?

Yes, it seems.  Clouds…they are everywhere in the Bible…much like the sky!  In Revelation 1:7, it states that “‘Look, He is coming with the clouds, and every eye will see Him, even those who pierced Him…‘”  There is so much Scripture correlating God with clouds that I was (and still am) astonished.  “The cloud filled the temple, and the court was full of the radiance of the glory of the Lord.”  Ezekiel 10:4God guided Israel by a cloud during the day. Exodus 13:21.  “When the priests withdrew from the Holy Place, the cloud filled the temple of the Lord.  And the priests could not perform their service because of the cloud, for the glory of the Lord filled His temple.”  1 Kings 8:10-11.  “When He was speaking, a cloud appeared and enveloped them, and they were afraid as they entered the cloud.  A voice came from the cloud, saying, ‘This is My Son, whom I have chosen; listen to Him.’  When the voice had spoken, they found that Jesus was alone.” Luke 9:34-36

It slowly started to sink in that God, through His Word, was answering the question of my heart the night before as I floated on the lake…I find closeness to my dad in the clouds because God is there.  Where He is, my dad is also.  Funny, days earlier, I found myself fascinated by these two clouds hovering so close together in a virtual cloudless sky.  Again I wasn’t sure why they caught my attention, but they did…If clouds represent His majesty and His Presence, then those who are with Him must be ever so near to us.  Might that be why we are drawn to lay on the ground and look up at the clouds, or why couples watch the sunset together?  Is that why people love to take pictures of them?  Or the foundation of why we “owe and ah” over them?  It is when you find people gathering together along a shoreline…as if we are all drawn to the majesty of the setting sun and its dazzling clouds and colors.  I sat humbled and in awe…

The neat thing is that I often look at the clouds closest to sunset.  Mark and I have loved sunsets since as long as I can remember.  And my dad loved sunrises and sunsets too.  As a young adult, I have fond memories of praising the beauty of a sunset with my dad.  Either looking out the kitchen window or standing in the backyard, but it really didn’t matter where we were.  In fact, one of the hardest memories for my family (or maybe just myself) during this camping trip was the memory of a sunset that we watched when we were afraid it would be his last up north.  The future seemed so unknown, and yet God granted us this magnificent display in the sky that night.  His wish that evening was to see the sunset.  As the color exploded in deep shades of pink, orange and purple, he sat in the car with tears streaming down his face.  It was one of the most glorious sunsets we had seen in a place that is near divine…a place we all love, he loved.

Since my dad has passed away, I have been watching the sunsets with even more passion and zeal.  It has been in this process of watching that I’ve noticed little nuances.  As I have paid more attention in these passing months, clouds can make all the difference in taking a sunset from beautiful to breathtaking.  They reflect and pick up the Son (oops, I mean sun) in a way that is remarkable, adding and reflecting colors…sometimes pinks, deep oranges, reds, purples, mixtures of grays and blues.  Both Mark and I noticed that sometimes you don’t even realize there are clouds in the sky until all of a sudden they are bursting with color.  The picture below was right after the sun dipped down below the horizon.  There wasn’t much color and there appeared to be little to the cloud that hung on the edge of the sky.  It was nice, but not stunning.

Twenty minutes later…stunning was a mild way to put it!

A few days after this revelation, I was again sitting on our boat watching the sun set hoping to catch its play on the clouds.  While the whole sky didn’t break out into what I had hoped for, there was this little patch that was incredible.  The brightness and yellow were hard to capture, but captivating nonetheless.  These little wisps at the top of the glowing cloud began to curl up and slowly change shape as if separate from themain gray cloud that hung below blocking the sun from illuminating the rest of the sky.  Still the rays of setting sun broke through making them seem almost surreal.  As I sat there and watched, I had a new perspective on why I was again feeling comfort sweep over me.  This time, though, there were no questions.  My eyes brimmed with tears filled with joy and gratefulness for God’s kindness in granting my heart the understanding of how close He and my dad really are!

“But God made the earth by His power; He founded the world by His wisdom and stretched out the heavens by His understanding.  When He thunders, the waters in heaven roar; He makes clouds rise from the ends of the earth.”  ~Jeremiah 10:12-13

A reminder…

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“As a father has compassion on his children,

so the Lord has compassion on those who fear Him;

for He knows how we are formed,He remembers that we are dust.

As for man, his days are like grass,

he flourishes like a flower of the field;

the wind blows over it and it is gone, 

and its place remembers it no more.

But from everlasting to everlasting the Lord’s love is with those who fear Him, and His righteousness with their children’s children–with those who keep His covenant and remember to obey His precepts.”  ~Psalm 103:13-18

16 reasons…

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There are lots of reasons why we do our Easter basket outreach.  Always because God placed it on our hearts, but for the last couple of years, the need seems so much greater.  So much more personal…

In the book of Esther, she is taken from her home to become a possible wife of the king.  Eventually she is chosen to be his queen.  It turns out that the position she found herself in had the potential to do more good than just for herself and her family.  She learned that one of the king’s trusted men had plans to eradicate her people.  As her mentor sent her information, he finished with these words:  “And who knows whether you have not come to this position for such a time as this?”  Esther 4:14

While most of those in Families Building Faith, and certainly not us (my household), are not in a “royal” position, most of us are in better positions than somebody else; sometimes, that is physically, emotionally or financially.  That has become crystal clear to me over these years of reaching out.  More often than not, we are in a position to make a difference…and that position is often given to us by God for a reason.

Most of our outreaches are about us taking our blessings and passing them along…sometimes we’ve used them gently, sometimes they are brand new, but oftentimes, we are able to do something for the need that is before us.  In my personal life, God is often not asking anything more than for me to give someone else some encouragement, a hug, a nod, an ear to hear their stories, a confirmation that they are not alone in their own struggle, or more simply, my time.

The other day, I visited Carpenter Road Elementary School.  In a bag of baskets that the kids had eagerly brought back for us was a large envelope.  The principal told me that it contained some thank you notes.  As I stopped for lunch, I brought them in with me.  Walking through the door, I gently pulled the first one out at the top and read the first two sentences.  I gasped…for two reasons: one because of the need that sat on the first line, and two because we were blessed to have made a difference.  A little humbled by what I read, I tucked it back into the envelope to take out when I sat down.

In case you’ve ever wondered (come on…you know you have!), here are16 reasons why we do what we do:

1.   Because there is a true need of the heart…someone who needs to know God’s love and that another truly cares.

Dear Families Building Faith,

I thank you for the Easter basket.  It helped a lot because I didn’t have an Easter basket on the 8th.  So the basket helped.  I liked the silly string & the teddy bear because I like teddy bears.  I have a friend named Early and he liked the other teddy bear I got from you.  My teddy bear’s name is Valentina.  Her name was in a heart.  I will always keep the gifts because I like it, and love it.  I liked the paryer cards the most.  Thank you, CM

2.   Because there is a use for those things we no longer use.

Dear Families Building Faith,

Thank you for the Easter basket.  The toys I liked most was my stuffed bear, bubbles and my Mickey Mouse painting set.  I loved the candy.  It was yummy and sweet.  The basket was so pretty and colorful.  It was set up perfectly.  I had a fun Easter with the basket.  You are all so generous.  Sincerely, ZW

3.   Because all children need to read and play.

Dear Family Building Faith,

Thank you for the Easter basket.  I really loved the books that you gave me.  The candy was yummy and the toys were cool.  Sincerely, TA

4.  Because kindness and generosity can be felt in and through our actions.

Dear Families Building Faith,

I’d like to thank you for your kindness and generosity.  And I’d like to thank you for being kind enough to give us an Easter basket.  Some of favorite kinds of things were in it, like the Luigi from Mario Bros.  OH…and the pug dog.  I loved it.   Plus the comic book was cool.  So thanks.  I hope it happens again next year.  Sincerely, SEG

5.     Because it is strengthening to our faith to see God move in the little details of life, showing how much He knows each of us, such as connecting a little girl with her favorite color.

Dear Families Building Faith,

I love the basket you sent me for Easter.  I love the blue and white bows.  blue is my favorite color.  I loved the brown bear that with the basket.  I like the candy to.  Sincerely, ZM

6.     Because sometimes it makes all the difference in the world to know someone cares and is praying for you.

Dear Families Building Faith,

I liked the Easter basket.  It had a lot of good stuff in it.  My favorite things were the silly string and the candy.  Thank you for praying for me.   Sincerely, T.

7.    Because His glory is seen by His faithfulness…it is no small feat to these kids that everyone in their school received an Easter basket.  And it is no small miracle in our eyes either!

Dear Familes Building Faith,

Thank you for all the Easter baskets you gave to this school.  We are thankful for what you gave us.  I liked everything in the basket.  Sincerely, JJ

8.   Because life should be about joy, when possible.

Dear Families Building Faith,

Thank you for the Easter basket.  I liked the stuff in it.  Thank you again for the Easter basket.  Sincerely RB

9.  Because God so loved us that He gave His One and Only Son…we love because He first loved us.  This little one was able to feel and return love because we conveyed love.

Dear Families Building Faith,

Thank you for the Easter basket.  I liked everything that was in my Easter basket.  I love you for giving me the Easter basket.  I like the candy that was in my Easter basket.  Thanks again, SC

10.    Because there is nothing better than helping someone to have a “happy day.”

Dear Families Building Faith,

I wanted to thank you for the Easter baskets for all of our class.  Thank you for everything in it.  I appreciate it.  It’s very generous.  It helped make a happy day.  The colors on it were my favorite.  Thank you a lot.  Sincerely KN

11.  Because God paints the sky each morning and evening for us…this outreach is our response of gratitude.

Dear Families Building Faith

I liked the Easter basket that you gave us.  Thank you for your support.  I liked everything that you gave me.  I like the generous stuff you gave me.  My favorite thing that was in my basket was the paint set.  Sincerely, DG

12.    Because when we share, it inspires others to…

Dear Families Building Faith

Thank you for the great Easter basket you gave me.  I thought the Transformers were cool.  My little cousin thought my bubbles were cool too.  The candy was great too.  Thank you again, TG

13.    Because sometimes in life, we can help others to experience the goodness of the Lord.

Dear Family Building Faith

I thank you for your generous basket.  I like the Easter basket you gave me.  Everything was my favorite.  The favorite thing was in my basket was the paint set.  Sincerely, BM

14.    Because God created chocolate and bears with army coats…so much to be shared, enjoyed and loved.

Dear Families Building Faith,

Thank you for being so generous and giving us those wonderfully extreme Easter baskets.  I loved the chocolate and the bear with the army coat.  Sincerely, C

15.  Because we all need a reason to use the word “marvelous” in our lifetimes…

Dear Families Building Faith,

Thank for giveing me a bastket.  It was a marvelous idea.  It was fun to eat the candy and play with the toys.  Sincerely, TM

16.  Because “you can change people just by doing the little things that count.”

Dear Families Building Faith,

Thank you for the lovely Easter basket.  It was generous of you to give us Easter baskets.  I really appreciate it.  You can change people just by doing the little things that count.  The Easter basket was beautiful.  Thank you.  Sincerely, M

As I sat there reading these notes from fifth graders, I found my heart moved and my eyes welling up.  So many things confirmed by these simple thank yous.  So many movements of God that can’t be denied.  How does a boy end up with his favorite character, Luigi?  How does a child end up with their favorite color?  You might think it is because someone knew, but that is not how the baskets were handed out.  They were just placed on the desks or given out in a random order.

On an organizational note, these notes seemed to speak directly to the different things we do…the structure of how and why we do what we do.  The beauty and the order of the baskets does matter.  It makes those receiving the baskets feel special…something we strive hard for in the quality of our baskets.  The one note about the blue and white bows…good encouragement to those who cut our ribbon because after cutting and tying lots, you start to wonder does it really matter?  The fact that almost all of them confirmed my dad’s words about candy was especially touching.  And our Scripture cards that simply lay out God’s own words for them to see…reminders of His love, His faithfulness, and His shelters…to mean the most to someone who would have received nothing…how amazing!  These are all the little things that I stared at in disbelief…the little questions I had asked myself…does this matter…am I crazy for thinking it does?  I sat in awe of these notes with my heart thankful to God for this call, for the strength that He gives, and for the ability to try to make a difference, even when I am unsure whether we can.

Sadly, there are too many children–as the first letter stated–receiving nothing on Easter.  While it might be easy to say that an Easter basket is unnecessary or trivial, it is not so easy to say when you realize it does matter when you are the one left out.  No matter how some may try, there’s virtually no way around the holidays we celebrate as a country.  All kids know about Easter…and Christmas too.

And truly there is no greater lie than the one that tells you that you don’t matter.  Empty cupboards, empty living rooms at Christmas time, no Easter baskets…all convey the same message:  You are not special and you don’t matter.  God knows it is not true, and He tells us–those who are in the position to help–to care for those oppressed.  Jesus told us to love others as we would want to be loved.  Paul, the great apostle, instructs to go to where they are…to meet them where they are at.  How can they hear of God’s love if it is only words or tracks of paper?  How can they trust God’s love when they feel as if no one in this world truly cares?

Serving Christ by reaching those in need is often where the rubber meets the road when it comes to faith.  Thank You God for these 16 letters for they are nourishment for our souls.  They are God’s message that what we do is important…that it matters a whole lot to those who truly need to know they matter to Someone.  May our hearts continue to stay steadfastly committed to being Your hands and feet in the here and now of where You have placed us.

“Then Esther sent this reply to Mordecai: ‘Go, gather together all the Jews who are in Susa, and fast for me.  Do not eat or drink for three days, night or day.  I and my maids will fast as you do.  When this is done, I will go to the king, even though it is against the law.  And if I perish, I perish.'”  ~Esther 4:15-16

What it looks around here during our Easter season…

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I thought I would share some photos of what it looks around here during Easter.  Hopefully, they will help you to see why it grew so quiet on my blog, but more than that, I hope you see something a little harder to explain and truly inspiring…

For the last couple of years, we have been so blessed by volunteers willing to do all sorts of jobs.  We started posting these “at-home” tasks on-line and letting people do them at their home while watching TV, visiting or when it worked for them.  Here our ribbon is waiting in bags for a volunteer to stop by and pick it up.  No small task…to cut all the ribbon we need.  We generally tie three multi-colored strings together to give an extra pretty look. A women’s small group took on this task from a local church.  What a help! 

Some prepping of the stairwell to our basement.  Mark was a good sport and he is a great painter!

Here’s the finished product…

Preparing the basement for the beginning of assemblies…

We have a great shelving system that wraps around our basement…

Here’s another shot…looking from our wrapping stations.  Yes, even the cat likes this time of year 😮

We need to have the system ready to sort through all the donations that come in…

and like this…

and this…almost daily, during this ourteach, people leave a bag or two of things they think we can use…and that adds up when a few people stop by…But some days are a little bit overwhelming (not really, exciting is a better word at seeing God’s movement through the dedication and devotion of others), but only until it goes to the basement.  It gets sorted through quickly.  When it is one person sorting, it feels like it takes forever.  When it is two, wow…what a difference!  Actually on this day, someone brought over a bunch of items from their sister’s estate.  The sister had collected Easter and other holiday items and had made them promise they would find someone who could use it.  It just so happens that their daughter-in-law heard of what we were doing and shared the info.  The more remarkable fact was that many, many of our bins had gone empty just the day before so this delivery was perfectly timed! 

This year was the first year that we had items actually delivered to our house from UPS.  Two boxes of baskets (100 of them).  It was so exciting!

A lot of times, it is just small donations…this was given to us from a sweet lady.  Actually, twice.  Another woman dropped off this set later in the season too…those stuffed animals were so incredibly soft!!

And then there was the Dollar Tree’s collection, which often just blew us away…yes, this is just one pick-up.  We picked up twice a week, and from their estimates, the South Lyon community donated close to 5,000 items!  The harder part to believe is that almost all of it went out…we have just a few coloring books, bubbles and play-dough left that will go to a couple of different summer programs.  These baskets were packed full!!

We were also amazed at the number of groups and places that collected for us.  The South Lyon Center for Active Adults…

The Girl Scouts celebrated their 100 year birthday and the South Lyon area Girl Scouts collected over 360+ coloring books and crayons for us…

Some even used their talents to make items for our baskets…

And some even made their own baskets following our guidelines…one lady made 8 of them herself and brought them over right before our last delivery.  She had so much fun that she decided to hang on to them until we needed them to decorate her house…they were so cheery and festive.  It was quite sweet!

There were also many more.  The South Lyon Garden club used some funds and brought a wonderful donation of toys.  The United Presybeterian church collected items from their congregation, and we received a couple of monetary donations from all over that truly helped.  People brought things from Brighton, Pinckney, Hamburg, Whitmore Lake, Livonia, Sterling Heights, Ortonville…from all over. One letter and check even came from Florida!  All of it was really quite amazing!!

There are so many things that go into the baskets.  This year, I stood in the basement and thought of my dad as I looked at the candy shelves.  It was a short thought of how much I missed him being here with us at this time of year, and a couple of days later came an email from my cousin remembering my dad saying last year how he wished the baskets could have more candy in them.  I too remembered him saying, “Candy.  That’s what the kids love!”  So I sent up a little prayer to heaven along with some tears asking God that if the baskets were meant to have more, could He bring it?

Let me say…we have NEVER had as much candy as we received this year…

It was everywhere…

And came from all sorts of places…this was a car full…donated Valentine’s candy from a store that couldn’t bear to throw it out.

Some in large batches…our local nursing home residents helped unbag and box all of the candy we picked up from hitting the clearance racks at Target.  They loved it!

Some in small amounts…it all helps!

Some on sale…with our faithful friends keep an eye out for the really good deals!

It came and came and came.  What a gracious God we have!  I can see my dad smiling in heaven as God answered the prayer of his daughter in ways she truly wasn’t expecting…

And so it began to come together…the basement, the table of goodies for our volunteers to snack on, the baskets, and the events.Baskets began to be made…

Piles started to grow…

Kids smiled…oh, the kids, we had so many this year.  We always do, but this year, their enthusiasm, their hearts and their hands helped to create so many beautiful baskets!  Their attitudes encouraged us, and their eager willingness to help others is reason for a lot of hope for our world.  The number of kids who wanted to come back to help was remarkable.   

Volunteers came…from all over.  Our family was incredibly supportive, and now our extended family too!  We had lots of independent families, retirees, small groups, Girl Scouts, and neighbors come to help.  My mom devotingly came down every week to help sort…she loved the job!  So many hands gave their time and energy to getting the baskets out… 

The basement filled…again and again…

So did our garage…a first time…it filled at least twice…but I lost count after that with things become a bit more of a blur with the unexpected passing of my aunt.

Our upstairs, which is devoted to the adult basket assembly…it filled too.

The boxes raised and lowered again and again…these are mostly travel/hotel samples/soaps that we collect year round.

Funny story, I was praying one morning for shelves.  For some reason, it seemed like we needed another set but they are so costly.  I just couldn’t bear the idea of spending money on them, so I prayed asking God for some help with this…could He please bring us shelves somehow, someway?  In His own funny way (I do believe God has a sense of humor) and with a strong reminder that humbling ourselves is half the battle, late that night while on a walk with Mark, someone had put a nice set of shelves out to the trash in our neighborhood.  Much to my chagrin, after seeing that they were just dusty, I decided to drag them home.  Not something I wanted to do, but how could I walk pass them and say, “Not those!”  Mark was just slightly ahead of me on a phone call that had come in uexpectedly so he didn’t see me dragging them along.  I can’t imagine how silly it looked!  After poking fun at me, he helped me get them down to the basement (only for me to haul them back up a couple of weeks later to where we needed them–our dining room–and yes, they go back in the basement the rest of the year). 

Now you all might think that we must do nothing but sort donations and build Easter baskets, but that is not true.  It could consume every moment of our lives, but I have gotten good at shutting the door to the basement or staying away from our living room and dining room.  I realized a couple years into this outreach that God doesn’t ask us to be a slave to what He calls us too…that is often our choice.  It is only by balancing work with pleasure that you can stay focused on the joy of what you are doing!  So here’s a glimpse of the other part of our lives…

We went skiiing up north near Petosky…

We celebrated a birthday…and then left the decorations up for a bit.

Played in what little snow we received this winter…

We traveled to Arizona for a long weekend in the sun…

There was time for basketball…

We took time to enjoy the incredibly warm weather that came upon Michigan in March and fooled us all into thinking it was the beginning of summer…

We took time to go to a Christian rock concert…my whole family (minus just a couple).   And yes, we danced, sang and were humbled by the number of times God spoke to each of our hearts in His own and personal way…

But no matter what, the end of anything is sometimes the hardest.  As we entered into the last two weekends, I won’t lie…it was difficult and long.  And yet, we were met with unending support, encouragement and strength to deal with the unusual set of circumstances that had arisen.  All that said, I think almost every member of our family was ready for life to return to our “normal”.

There were lots of deliveries, tons of baskets, and lots of last minute donations.  We often don’t take pictures of those receiving, but the feedback was just like years past…a gratefulness in their voices and on their faces that words (or probably even pictures) can’t fully describe.  There were moments of relief, desperation, excitement and joyfulness.  There was awe and grace, and then there were tender moments where what we had done just didn’t seem enough for the need we encountered.  And yet, somehow, we were able to go farther and deliver more…

We were able to take 100 more baskets to another elementary school in Flint where those 100 kids often don’t have food on the weekends…would they likely have an Easter basket?  This year, thanks be to God, yes they did!  That is what all of those paper bags are filled with…specially made basket for each child in their weekend back pack food program.  We were so thrilled and so were they!

We were able to meet the needs that we have always been blessed to be able to, but at the end of this outreach, God enabled us to take even more to a special place that helps families with disabled children, whose list is forever long.  We usually service them with about 200; this year, over 500…you should have seen the beaming faces and excited staff!

While we were physically exhausted and I was emotionally spent, part of me didn’t want to close the door…it was that beautiful…all of it…the prep, the builds, the volunteers, those bringing donations, offering their cars, traveling to and from…here in this picture, we have two vans filled with Easter baskets following us to Flint (you can see them in the mirror)…Seeing excited children and excited parents; hugs from grateful social workers; passionate family advocates telling us of the lives that were touched; grateful, quiet words from the elders–one with tears in her eyes telling me softly how she wished she could be in the “field” working with us–at a nursing home who were so glad to help build a few baskets, the volunteer who baked all of the goodies for our assemblies lifting a load off of my shoulders.  God doesn’t call us to easy tasks…that should be a red flag, He calls us to His tasks, often the things the world is so willing to overlook because it is difficult.

From the little we give, it almost seemed too much to receive…even when His call is hard, He doesn’t ask us to bear these things on our own.  He comes alongside us, goes behind us, props us up when we could fall, breathes life back into us when we are not sure it will be there tomorrow, and He brings it all into passing.  It is June, nearly two months later, as I write these words with tears brimming in my eyes for I am still in awe…at all He did for us and for them this Easter.

What’s been happening around here…

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Our March and April got a little more hectic than I was expecting!  As many of you know, we spent much of March assembling Easter baskets.  It seemed like we delivered them right up to Easter, but really we finished by midweek.

Altogether we assembled over 1,700 kid baskets and close to 500 adult baskets.  While exciting, it is also humbling for we know that those numbers did not come by our strength.  Our house went from looking like this…

and this…

to this…(well, the basement…I won’t show it just yet as we are still cleaning up Easter!).  And by the way, the answer is “yes”!  I definitely love pulling these rooms back together!!  But it is just that…our house.  Our Easter outreach definitely helps us to appreciate the space we have and renews in us a grateful heart for our home.

Right before Easter, we lost our aunt unexpectedly…my dad’s sister.  It broke our hearts for two reasons:  one from losing her and the other, from watching my uncle and cousins’ pain knowing it all too well.  As best as we could, we finished up Easter and collapsed. 

But since then, as we have moved into late April and May there has been more time for reflection and relaxation…

time to catch frogs and turtles…

time to try something new…

time to dip our toes in a lake…

time to watch admire the storms (of life) instead of immediately running for cover when the sky turns dark and ominous…

time to sit by a fire…

time to think about love and how to share and live it…

time to watch movies and eat popcorn…

time for check-ups, tests and waiting…

time to simplify and enjoy…

time to get away together, just the two of us…

time to explore…

time to read…

time to take in the sunsets…

time to study the art of patient waiting, steadfastness, devotion and contentment in the examples God gives us in life…

time to be on the water…

time to gather, remember and grieve…

time to see beauty in these moments…

time to renew and refocus…

It was while shopping this last Friday that God helped me to sum up these days…many of the days have been hard tempered with days of sunshine.  As I stood admiring the blueness of this picture and the yellow sunflowers, I realized what the words were saying.“Rain is good for growth. Shine is good for blossoming.”  Well, isn’t that simply and beautifully true?  We really do need both to grow and blossom–to become all we are meant to be.  Rain and sunshine.  Good times and hard times.  Too much of either, while pleasant for the moment in some circumstances, throws us out of balance and can lead to our demise.  Not enough of either and we cannot grow or blossom.  Any gardener knows this to be true.

And so those are the days around here lately…rain and sunshine…some days have been more rain (in the form of grief, pain, fear, doubt, procrastination, and frustration), and some days have held more shine (beauty, joy, peace, hope, laughter and love) than we can bear.  These are our days…and I am grateful for God’s reminder that we truly need both kinds.

“He will also send you rain for the seed you sow in the ground, and the food that comes from the land will be rich and plentiful.”  ~Isaiah 30:23

The Hurt and The Healer…

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Whew!  It’s been busy around here.  I hadn’t really thought through the whole demands of our Easter outreach and balancing finding time to write what I want to share!  I know many of you can link to FBF’s Facebook page so there are lots of updates there…it is a bit easier to post pictures and quick snidbits.

There’s a song I’ve been wanting to share with you guys since we heard it back in late January.  It has just been released on the radio…and the album is coming out in May.  The song is called “The Hurt and The Healer” by Mercy Me.  We…my mom, sisters and brother-in-law, nieces, and Mark and Josh…we all went to Winterfest at EMU’s convocation center and had a great time!  The concert was awesome!!  So many good moments; a bit of something for everyone.  The kids had a blast and had some amazing moments listening to the different artists.  Mercy Me came out last to perform.  As Bart Millard, their lead singer, stood on the stage talking of what a difficult year they had had…how they lost someone very dear to them and how it was the motivation of this song…I think all of us heard God whisper to our hearts that He knows the depth of our pain and the depth our loss through the words of this song.

Not a day goes by that I don’t miss my dad immensely.  As I returned from a walk this evening, I sat down on my front porch wondering why I miss my dad more now than ever before?  When he was alive, I missed him but not like now.  Maybe it was the false sense that he would always be here, or at least until a ripe-old age.  It seems strange that we so often live taking for granted time as if it isn’t fleeting…as if things or moments don’t come to an end.

I hope you enjoy the song, and for those of you going through pain or grief of any kind, I hope this song speaks to you as well.

Here’s a link to a You Tube video with Bart as he talks about this song:

Here’s a link to the song:

Good News!

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“Now faith is being sure of what we hope for, and certain of what we do not see.”  ~Hebrews 11:1

For the last 3 or 4 years, we have been incredibly blessed in that our local Dollar Tree collected items purchased by their customers for our Easter Basket Collection.  One of our members, Tina, stopped in to see whether they might be interested, and sure enough, they agreed.  We would pick up the items over the few weeks of our outreach, and as the awareness of this event grew, so did the donations.  They have become an integral part of our Easter baskets to the joy of the children, and the amazement of the adults.  Here you can see some of their items in our baskets…

This last December, I started feeling nudged again and again to pray for the Dollar Tree.  Over time, I have learned to following those nudgings although I don’t always understand why I am being reminded to pray.  Sure enough, when I popped into the Dollar Tree, in January to talk about our upcoming outreach, things had changed.  The corporation had changed its policy about allowing local stores to collect for local charities.  In all fairness to Dollar Tree, it was self-protective measure after unfair and bad press in December.  The manager was so upset as I talked with her, but she felt pretty sure they wouldn’t be able to even though they truly wanted to.  After a few moments of discussion, she said she would forward it to corporate to see if somehow, someway, they would allow them to collect for us.

Well, a couple weeks went by…and no news.  I sent out a note asking for prayers from those I know are steadfast in prayer.  In the beginning of February, I stopped in again and they still hadn’t heard anything.  However, the manager seemed even more convicted that they should be helping.  It was with one sentence that I realized the depth of her sorrow…”I just can’t imagine these kids not being able to receive as nice of baskets…how this will impact them.”  She told me that she was trying hard to think of a way…and so we kept praying.

The other night, I was with a group of women who love to stamp.  They were asking me a bunch of questions including one about the Dollar Tree, so I explained the situation.  One offered to see if the other stores in the plaza might be willing to handle the collection box so that people didn’t have to drive the bags over to us.  I told her I would check with Dollar Tree’s manager to see if that might work.

The next day, I stopped in again.  The manager was in the front of the store restocking some items when I approached her.  As I touched her on the shoulder, she looked up, smiled a big smile and said, “You were on my list to call.  They approved it!”  She was grinning ear-to-ear telling me they would start collecting today.  I stood there amazed.  What a blessing…for all involved!!  Their cashiers are so excited, and they love sharing with others about the good all of us can do together to support those who are less fortunate in our community!  Here’s a photo of two of them from last year…they were all smiles, and we were and are so incredibly grateful!!

So thank You God for the nudges to pray, for the blessings You will bring these kids again this year, and for the blessings You will bestow on the Dollar Tree for being faithful again.  Thank You God for teaching and showing us that our prayers are important and somehow a part of Your will, and for the lesson of patience and steadfastness in the face of doubt and uncertainty.  May we stay diligent in prayer and in believing even that which we cannot see!!

“Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you.”  ~Matthew 7:7