Uncle Ken

Today is my Uncle Ken's birthday. He would have been 55. A few weeks ago, four days after Christmas, he lost his battle with cancer. He was my mom's youngest brother.

When I was young, he was my cool "rock and roll" guitar-playing uncle with all the tattoos. I didn't see him, or speak to him very often, but I decided I wanted to write about him to honor him. Plus these thoughts have been gnawing at me for some time and what better day to write it down than his birthday.

Uncle Ken was the first phone call I received after my dad's passing. He was in tears, asking how my mom was, and he wanted me to know what my dad meant to him. Honestly, I don't even remember exactly what he said to me-most of it is a blur. But there is one thing that stood out to me about Uncle Ken and what he said about my dad.

Hope.

You see, Uncle Ken's life wasn't a pretty one (now that I think about it, who's is?). He became a Christian 14 years ago, married a wonderful woman, Wanda-a family relation I've admired my entire life. Before that he lived a life-style where hope was lost. Uncle Ken's life has taught me that even when I've lost hope in the people in my life, there's is always hope in God's love for us. Uncle Ken stepped out in faith and gave his life to Christ, serving Him and being a witness of the miracles that God can do in someone's life. Yes, there are many ways to symbolize his life-God's mercy, grace, forgiveness.

But it is the hope that I will hold on to. Putting my faith in God's plan gives me hope, not in people, but in what God will do in those peoples' lives. I have my hope in God while my sister continues her battle with breast cancer. I have my hope in God as my grandma (my dad's mother) struggles through the effects of a stroke. I have my hope in God as other family members and friends deal with illness, loss, health, life. As I continue my journey in college, I have faith in God and the hope that He will hold me and give me the strength to keep going. To keep studying.

Overwhelming isn't it? And you're wondering how I can continue to have faith? How can I put my hope in God? I just do. You know that scene in the movie "Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade?" Indiana Jones has to go through that temple-thing to get the cup. You know, his dad got shot and he needs to save him. Anyway, he comes upon a cavern that is impossible to get across. In the clues he reads, he realizes that he has to step out in faith to get across. He has to put his faith in something else. Something, or someone, he can't see, and hope that something, or someone, will get him to the other side of the cavern. He steps out in faith, not knowing that there's a camouflaged bridge in front of him. But the point is, he had to step out. He had to just keep going.

I've lost hope before. Many years ago. But because of Uncle Ken, I know I must have faith in God and keep my hope in Christ's love for me, my family, friends, and everyone. For as long as he could, Uncle Ken kept going. I spoke to him right after he received his terminal diagnosis. Sure, he was afraid, who wouldn't be? But he kept saying to me: "Our God reigns, He is sovereign, He is the healer, He is in control." Uncle Ken knew the gift of this life that God had given him, but he knew what was ahead of him-an eternal life that surpassed everything else. Either way, if God healed him, or took him home, Uncle Ken shared with me that he still kept his faith and hope in Christ. I am in awe at how God worked in this man's life. I have hope in how God will work in my life, and in other people's lives.

Step out. Have hope.

Anger

I really don't like what anger does to me. It eats me up inside. I've been sick for 2 weeks and I can't sleep. Now I know why.

I haven't been praying. I realized today that I haven't prayed since...

He doesn't know it, but this is thanks to the high school pastor at my church. He began a series on prayer a couple of weeks ago. Oh, I forgot to tell you why I'm in high school-I volunteer in the high school ministry. Anyway, we were in a staff meeting and he said something about having a prayer life and the first thought in my head was: "I don't want to pray, I'm too angry at God right now." This thought practically shocked me! I was appalled with myself! Angry at God?

I've had enough turmoil and hard times in my life that I've learned to give my pain to God. To pray and seek His peace and let Him carry my burdens. There have been times I have spent hours-mostly sleepless nights-in fervent prayer. But the burdens this time around, in this season for my family, it's getting a little overwhelming. I think it's been since right after Christmas that I've been so angry that I just have not been able to talk to God.

Praying. I love to pray. I just talk to God. Just chat. And I've yelled at God before. I've pleaded and cried. I've rejoiced and praised Him. You've heard that term "pray without ceasing"? (1 Thessalonians 5:17) I take that literally. Praying when I'm driving, cooking, reading, walking, trying to sleep. Praying gives me strength. I love to pray.

The wonderful thing: God knows I'm angry and He understands and still loves me.

There's this scene in a show I have on DVD where a father is confronting a young man who wishes to marry his daughter. The father, in his wisdom, knows that his daughter cannot marry the young man. As much as the young man loves the girl, he finally acknowledges his restlessness and will feel tied down if he marries her, just as the girl walks up to see the conversation going on. She is devastated, hurt, and angry. The young man leaves town and the father goes to comfort his daughter. The girl yells at her father, pounds her fists on his chest and sobs ferociously as he envelopes her into his arms. She, exhausted, allows her father to comfort her for as long as she needs. It's a good show.

God wants that from me. He wants that from all of us. He wants to be the Father, because He knows how devastating life can be. He sees what we're going through and feels our pain, just like a father feels the pain of his beloved child. He wants me to pound my fists on His chest as He envelopes us (me) in His arms and comforts us for as long as we need. Because without that comfort, without those prayers, the anger would not subside and I could not study, cook, teach, lead, read, live, comfort, decide, sleep or be well.

Oh how good it feels to pray to my Heavenly Father.

Don't Worry, Disneyland will be there...

I have had this blog for some time now and I just realized that I rarely talk about Disneyland. I won't dwell on it too much because everyone knows.

I am in love with Disneyland.

Even in the craziness of the busiest times, I love to go. Due to the convenience of being a local, I can leave if the crowd gets to me, and come back on another day (usually the next day). Trust me, the crowd does get to me, but not as much as it used to. Not very long ago, I used to get really bent out of shape if someone pushed or rushed to get ahead of me in line to enter the park or get on a ride. One time, this lady literally cut me off in the entrance line. When I pointed her to the end of the line, she gave me such a scary look, I moved to the next line. The funny part is that I got into the park before she did.

It's Disneyland-that happens all the time-people rush, run, cut and push. I totally get it. It's Disneyland, the Happiest Place on earth! And it's all about ME! Making ME happy! Making ME have a good time. ME, ME, ME! So, of course there's rushing, running, cutting and pushing.

Then, one day I had a thought as I was walking through the entrance line: Why rush? Disneyland isn't going anywhere. It'll be there when I get there. There is no reason to hurry. Really. Think about it. NO REASON WHATSOEVER! Disneyland isn't going anywhere. Crowds, or no crowds, the rides will be there. The shows will be there. The castle will still be there. So...take your time.

I can't tell you what that has done for my experiences this holiday season. Other people pushing to get ahead to get on Haunted Mansion-eh, the doom buggies will be there when I get there-whatever. Just enjoy the scenery, the music, the looks on the faces of people who are there for the first time. Especially the little ones. What a joy!

We are always in such a rush to get to where we think we need to be and we forget about what's around us, and we forget about the other people around us. We rush, run, cut and push. We're rude, selfish, and only thinking about ME.

Take your time. Look around. Be polite. Let someone else by. Enjoy the view, sounds, and the people around you. Life will be there when you get there.

So will Disneyland.

The rosebush

My mom has a rose garden with about 30 different types of roses. When it is in full bloom, it is a wondrous sight. It is now my job to prune the roses. My dad taught me how to prune roses when I was very young. With finishing school and...stuff...it has taken a few weeks to get the 30+ rosebushes pruned. I have 1 rose left, and it's a doozy. There have got to be at least 1,000 (yes, that's one thousand!) thorns on each branch! In fact, at least 10 of the roses out there have the same amount of thorns-there is absolutely no way to grab a branch without getting stuck! This last rosebush-I just got tired of fighting with it today...I'll finish it tomorrow. It's a toughie, yes it is.

With pruning roses, there are so many life metaphors you and I could come up with, I'm sure. Especially with the thorns of life-getting through tough stuff...getting hurt...knowing we have to just get through it. I'm sure there's more...

As I was pruning today, I looked at the clippers as I clipped the branches just above the buds, or to cut off a dead branch, and thought about the season that rose is in right now. It was once blooming, in so many different directions, but I had to decide where to cut and prune, which direction would be good for it to grow in, and which way to keep it from growing in, and where it had to just stop because that part was done. It was up to me to prune in such a way that it would grow the right direction or to grow to its best ability and be beautiful. If I didn't prune, the rosebushes would grow wild. The blooms would be beautiful, but eventually the thorns, branches and wild mess would take away from the beauty of the roses.

Now before you freak out, please keep in mind that I don't see myself as God. I see myself as the rosebush. God, in His perfect timing, is the one doing the pruning. Life is about living, growing, dying-and getting pruned and trusting God that where He prunes us, we will grow and be even more beautiful than we were before. Sometimes those clippers prune and it hurts, deeply. Sometimes so deeply we deaden that area in our lives and we think it's easier that way. But then...we just become a stump, with no blooms. I don't know about you, but I can't live like that. So, hopefully we recognize the buds that God has left and let the healing and growing process begin. That is where we need to trust God. And trust others. Yes, the scars are there, but the roses, I mean we, can be all the more beautiful while we live, grow and trust.

Oh that's a toughie, isn't it?

Look, all I know is that while I was pruning the last rosebushes today, I was praying, asking God to heal where I have been clipped and to help me grow. I looked at those rosebushes and imagined what they will look like in the spring. The new buds and the beautiful colors and smells. They will be better because of my pruning. I prayed for my family and friends and in how many ways we have been clipped this year and are hurting. I literally asked God why He was clipping at us so much. I begged Him to please stop pruning. Then I asked God to please comfort and heal. Right now, all I can do is trust God's pruning, that He knows what's best.

Oh, that's a toughie, isn't it?

My dad

If you knew my dad, you knew his strengths: builder, fixer, doer.

Today would have been my dad's 70th birthday. This is our first Christmas without him. I have been debating whether or not to post a new blog in honor of my dad, considering I did write something 6 months ago, when he passed away and I didn't want to re-hash or over-mourn, or focus on things that I shouldn't focus on today, but I have memories of my dad that I just thought important to share-to give you a more personal glimpse of my dad, maybe you'll learn something about him you didn't know. My dad would throw a fit if he knew about all the attention he still gets, but I would argue that the honor bestowed on him just feels right to me, to all of us. We, or I, need to shareabout my dad. This makes the "growing through the rain" process easier for me.

Let's begin with a few random facts about my dad:

1) He was my Grandma Mary's first born. She gave birth to him at home, in Costa Mesa.
2) When he was 11, he made a Nativity scene out of wood-one of his first wood-working projects. My Grandma still has it-it's beautiful.
3) When he was in high school, He sang in choir and performed in the musical "The Pirates of Penzance." He even wore tights.

Now something more personal that I've been wanting to share. He was-well, for lack of a better way of describing him-a manly man. He learned to be tender-hearted, but he was tough. Don't get me wrong, all of four of us kids agree he was a great and wonderful dad, but he was a tough dad. I am his oldest child. This manly man would pick me up when I would fall or scrape my knee. He'd tell me to wipe my tears, brush it off and get back to whatever I was doing. He taught me to be tough and strong, just like him.

Fast forward many years and I was raising my own little girl. We had a family gathering at my folks home. My daughter, Jennifer, had fallen, or something like that, and began crying. I immediately patted her, told her to brush it off, and walked away. My dad went to her, picked her up, placed her in his lap and let her cry. Oh, my anger just blew! I let it out on my dad: "What are you doing! You never let me cry when I was little! You told me to be tough and get over it! Stop!"He waited a minute, put Jennifer down, walked over to me, hugged me and said: "You're right Paula, I did raise you to be tough, but you know what, I was wrong, and I'm sorry." I cried, of course, and he held me. That was the first of many times throughout the years that he held me as I cried.

This experience was one of those privileged moments I had of watching God work on my dad's heart. I even remember when Dad accepted Christ. He was still a doer, but he built, fixed, and did things for a different reason than before. Christmas was, I think, his favorite time of year. We celebrated his birthday with cake, and extra presents, as he'd admonish us for taking the time to do so, because we should be only celebrating Jesus' birth. But then he would always make sure we would remember to hug and kiss him and wish him Happy Birthday. He loved his family, but more importantly, He loved Jesus. Serving Jesus, and sharing God's love was the most important, single priority in his life.

So, in this time of remembering my dad, and the life we had with him, also remember that it was because of Jesus' birth, death and resurrection and the impact it had on my dad's life, and the impact it should have on all of our lives. Build, fix, do.

Do.

27 Books Later...

Even in comparison to my 3 semesters of brain exploding math, this semester has so far been the most difficult. Not so much because of the 27 books (I'm an English major, I love books), but more so just because of...life...and death...and illness...and health...life. At one point I dropped a class, but another professor added a book, so it was still 27 books. If life isn't overwhelming enough, you'd think 27 books would just add to that. It did. It felt like my brain was just going non-stop, no rest for...oh my goodness...more than six months. (word of advice: DON'T ever do 10 weeks of summer school!)

BUT I've decided to focus on the best part of the 27 books: The stuff I loved reading and what I learned. So, of the 27 books, here's a list of my favorites and what I've learned:

Beowulf: If you haven't read this, your life isn't complete. It is eloquent, tedious, full of wonderful history and detail, the heroic code, with monsters and dragons. My essay prompt was to describe the heroic code in Beowulf, and I compared my son's video games to the book. Did you know that J.R.R. Tolkien worked on the translation? By the way-the book is way better than the movie.

Shakespeare: Romeo and Juliet: we all know how it ends. This is the first time I had read it. I love Shakespeare, he's all about the process and the details. You can get lost in his stories. I also read The Tempest-that was amazing! In the end, Prospero ends up forgiving everyone-no revenge-and the boy and girl live happily ever after.

Uncle Tom's Cabin by Harriet Beecher Stowe: I'm still reading it. It's a long book, with just tons of stuff going on. Stowe uses strong female characters, and wonderful Tom, to tell a story about slavery, the North and the South and American History. This book has made me feel ashamed of not only our American History, but also ashamed of how we humans, all equal creations of God, exact superiority and power over one another, over those who we deem as unworthy.

To His Coy Mistress by Andrew Marvel: You know, I don't even like poetry, but this poem just cracked me up! This poem is the epitome of what a guy will say to seduce a girl. I enjoyed it so much I wrote an essay on it. Everyone will tell you that this poem is all about "carpe diem" or "seize the day." Eh, whatever.  I don't think that was Marvel's intention when he wrote it. I think he just knew what to say to get lucky.

The Dream of the Rood: an ancient poem about Christ's crucifixion from the perspective of the cross. It is powerful! The professor gave us a passage from the Gospels to compare the poem to, which gave me the opportunity to discuss it with a fellow classmate who had never even opened a bible before-it was such a blessing! Read it, you'll cry.

27 books later, I am ecstatic to finally have a break. I've been sleeping better, and I feel like this humongous weight has been lifted off of my brain. I even watched the movie "27 Dresses" thinking maybe there's some comparison with my 27 books I could blog about. Nope, I don't want to think that hard.

Besides, I need to prepare for next semester: 16 books.

God Works

When it rains...
It pours...

You've heard the saying, and you know what it means.

I hate rain. Ok, that's a little harsh, but I really don't like rain! I understand why it's necessary, and appreciate it when the season has been dry, but I don't like it. It soaks my glasses like a windshield, messes up my hair and gets my feet so wet and cold! Which is why, when you see me out in the rain, I use a very big umbrella. Inevitably, though, the rain does what it set out to do and gets me wet.

Rain gets everything wet. In fact, rain can be so powerful that it washes out everything in it's path. Storms, hurricanes, tidal waves (does rain have anything to do with tidal waves? Maybe I should just title this "water.") Rain can destroy homes, towns, and move mountains. Inevitably, though, the rain subsides, life rebuilds and there is always-yes, always-healing and growth. It may take time, it may be painful, it may not go the way we want, but the healing and growth is always there.

Here's another saying for you:
God works in mysterious ways.
We've all heard the saying, and we think we know what it means, but I don't think we really do.

And I don't think the "mystery" is the point. I think the point is that God Works. Whether in mysterious ways, amazing ways, unknown, blah, blah, whatever ways-God Works. God created the rain, He created seasons in our lives, and we all have those seasons of pouring rain. When the rain is done, there is always-yes, I believe eventually always-healing and growth. God Works. Whether we want Him to or not. God Works. (I should put that on a t-shirt and sell it).

I decided to look up bible references on God's work and this is what I came up with:

Psalm 19:1--The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of His hands.
Psalm 66:5--Come see what God has done, how awesome His works in man's behalf,
John 9:3--"Neither this man nor his parents sinned," said Jesus, "but this happened so that the work of God might be displayed in his life."
Romans 8:28--And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love HIm, who have been called according to His purpose.
1 Corinthians 12:6--There are different kinds of working but the same God works all of them in all men.
Ephesians 2:10--For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works which God prepared in advance for us to do.

This is where you ask me why I'm writing about this. I'm writing about this because right now I'm angry. And I don't like being angry at God. I don't like being angry at all. I don't like how anger makes me feel. Right now, the season my family is in, it's pouring. My loved ones are in the midst of hurricanes. I wish the rain would just stop.

Then I look at my life, and where I'm at. I am blessed. I am healing, and I am growing. Because of where I am, I continually see God working through the rain and I know my job is just to hold up my umbrella and give cover in whatever way I can. In my life I have seen seasons of storms and hurricanes and I have felt healing and I have grown. God Works.

There is one little thing I like about rain...jumping in the puddles.

Yes, God Works.