June 2012
The Inside Scoop
20 06 12 23:04 Filed in: My Life | Grief Notes
The letter began "Just for you - The Inside Scoop." It was both a letter from a youth pastor to his senior pastor and a letter from a son to his father. For four years I was blessed to be yoked to my son in pastoral ministry, a partnership that benefited both of us, and the congregation as well, more than any of us knew and one for which I will always be grateful. We shared with each other and with the Lord the joys and challenges of ministry, and Matt continued that sharing, this time by mail from the other side of the world where he was leading a youth missions team.
And so this afternoon I read again the letter I had first read fifteen years ago. Matt was discovering that the building they were constructing, while significant, was secondary because God was engaged in a major building project in the lives of his teens. I won't share the details since I don't have the permission of those now-grown teens, but a couple of excerpts will give you the flavor: "It has been an incredibly intense week for me. God has been busy and I am just trying to keep up with him..." And a bit later: "I'm just watching God do what he does - change lives."
"That's the inside scoop, Boss..." Today marked the second anniversary of the life-shattering phone call that brought Suzanne and me the news of Matt's death. Thanks, Matt, for showing up again in a fifteen year old letter and stimulating thankfulness by reminding me again that God is still full of gracious surprises.
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Wearing Purple
14 06 12 20:59 Filed in: Reflections
When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick flowers in other people's gardens
And learn to spit....
Evie is a delightful lady who has apparently lived way beyond intimidation for years. She has outlived three husbands and shared with Val one of her secrets of married bliss: She just threw things at her husbands when they got out of line. "I used to play baseball," she explained. "I was the pitcher. I wasn't going to put up with his complaining, so I threw the whole dish of macaroni and cheese at him. It hit the wall, and as we watched the mess dribbling down to the floor, we both began to laugh. He asked me what was for supper now, and I told him to get a spoon. But I never held a grudge." I hoped fervently that if Val was learning anything from her example it would be the no grudge part.
You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes....
Earlier we had been with Val's mother, Hama. She is a very small and soft-spoken woman who likes to smuggle food back into her room. She was talking about writing letters, and suggesting (again) that she should move back home at the end of the month, a recurring theme when we visit in spite of its impossibility. I picked up on the writing theme and suggested she write the story of her life. She looked at me, and with more verbal energy than we had heard that day, began her story with "We went to the shit house." I almost fell off my chair, but she was dead serious and went on to describe the classic but unintended use of Eaton's Catalogue as a forerunner to Charmin.
But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers....
I know I'm a bit less inhibited than I used to be. Maybe this Father's Day I need to ask Suzanne just how close I am to wearing purple with a red hat that doesn't go. I'm pretty sure that Evie and Hama could both get away with most of the stuff in Jenny Joseph's poem. At least they can if we're not looking - and listening. But I sense that I need to look and listen, and maybe you do, too. Because hiding somewhere beyond the purple dresses and red hats and expert spitting, Evie and Hama and their generation have a wealth worth sharing.
But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.
Want to practice with me?
Those Three Words
Pretend you were there 36 days ago. It was a serious moment. We were reciting our vows, pondering the meaning of what we were declaring to one another when those three unexpected words appeared. But you need some background.
Valerie is a minimalist; she really likes small and simple and is radically committed to downsizing. I, on the other hand, have a much more normal approach to stuff. (At least it seemed normal to me.) If I acquired it, it must be good, and if it is good stuff, it must be worth keeping. It will help you understand the difference between us if I tell you that the dominant topic of conversation over our first lunch was how many books I had. It was not a topic that I brought up! We've had a lot of subsequent conversations about stuff (mostly my stuff since Val has much more ruthlessly freed herself from accumulated clutter than I have). It's become one of those ongoing jokes between us.
At least I thought it was between us. Then I heard those three unexpected words that I was being asked to repeat: ...forsaking most stuff.... Forsaking most stuff??? How did that get into the vows? Even though it was a very small wedding, it didn't seem to me to be a good time to argue. So I didn't; I gulped and made a promise, hoping that there was enough wiggle room in the word most.
It is hard and time-consuming, but it is a promise I intend to keep. It turns out that those three unexpected words that showed up in the vows are connected to those other three words -- the wonderfully powerful ones that I mentioned earlier. In this new season of Malcolm's life, forsaking most stuff is just one more way to say I love you. ♥
One Month Later...
It was a life-changing day. It's been a month since Valerie and I began this new chapter of our lives as a married couple. You probably weren't there for the ceremony; there were just nine of us that gathered for that sacred event - an intimate crowd if there can be such a thing. We gathered at the home of a retired pastor-friend who had joyfully agreed to officiate. (In an attempt to limit the crowd even further, Val had earlier asked me if I could officiate at my own wedding; not only is that not legal, but I would have messed it up!) We're grateful for the folks that shared that day with us.
There is a profound simplicity to a wedding ceremony, and taking the kind of simple approach that Val wanted helped us focus on what was truly important. We shared our vows (more about vows in a later blog; there was an unexpected moment there...), exchanged rings, and celebrated communion with our family and friends. We want Christ to be consistently central in our lives and relationship.
We signed the certificate, and took a few pictures. Then it was time to change and head for the dock to embark on a cruise to Alaska. The cruise lasted a week, but I think there is Biblical precedence for the honeymoon lasting a year. (See Deuteronomy 24:5; it might be my new favorite verse.)
People ask us where we are going to live. The short and blunt answer is that we don't know (though that is not the answer we give at the border). We're looking for a condo in the Seattle area, but we already have one in Abbotsford, BC. So for the time being and until we figure out which side of the border will be "home," we're doing a lot of commuting.
So here we are one month later. We're still smiling (a lot), we're still marveling at what God has been doing in our lives, we still don't know where we're going to live, and I'm finally rediscovering the blog. It's a good life!