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Those Three Words
11 06 12 21:43
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. ♥
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One Month Later...
06 06 12 20:30
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!
I've Been Distracted
03 03 12 21:19
I’ve been distracted. The blog has waited patiently for an update for too long, and I’ve been too distracted to pay it much mind. Sometimes being distracted is a bad thing. Some of the students I taught were easily distracted when they needed to be focused. That kind of distraction was not good – for them or for me. But sometimes being distracted IS a good thing. Very good.
I’ve been distracted, and it is very good. She is a Canadian retired missionary named Valerie. I first met her 43 years ago, and then promptly forgot that she existed for the next four decades. Through a friend who was forwarding my email updates to her, we reconnected. Over the last several weeks and months, and with no intent that a romance might develop, we began to realize that God was doing something quite unexpected in both of our lives. And so this spring we will be married. It’s okay; you are no more surprised than we are.
So that’s why I’ve been distracted. If you’ve missed the blog these past several weeks, I’m not terribly sorry, because some distractions are good. Very good!
I’ve been distracted, and it is very good. She is a Canadian retired missionary named Valerie. I first met her 43 years ago, and then promptly forgot that she existed for the next four decades. Through a friend who was forwarding my email updates to her, we reconnected. Over the last several weeks and months, and with no intent that a romance might develop, we began to realize that God was doing something quite unexpected in both of our lives. And so this spring we will be married. It’s okay; you are no more surprised than we are.
So that’s why I’ve been distracted. If you’ve missed the blog these past several weeks, I’m not terribly sorry, because some distractions are good. Very good!
Mushrooms
14 10 11 11:18
We ended up focused less on leaves and more on fungi, which I will admit doesn’t sound all that appealing. I can understand gathering leaves with which to decorate, but I don’t know anyone who hunts mushrooms for the same purpose. The beauty of mushrooms seems far greater when they are in their natural setting, and we enjoyed walking through the woods, wondering at large mushrooms with upturned edges, holding rain water like a cup.
I have never before thought of mushrooms as beautiful. Tasty, yes, but not beautiful. In fact they have always seemed somewhat ugly. These tree-hugging conks changed my mind. Ironically they are evidence of decay, the wood-rotting fungus often entering the tree through a wound. I wonder idly how it began and marvel at the miracle that by God’s grace even decay can produce beauty.
I’ll look elsewhere for leaves and will celebrate the stress that produces their riotous color. This week was a time for mushrooms.
The Pastor
29 08 11 22:13
It was the right thing to do after focusing on creating a legacy last week. I started the trek north today, heading home after a superb conference, and along the way I stopped to visit the Hoyles. I first met them 43 years ago when Wiley Hoyle became my pastor. He and his wife Cleo have served mostly small congregations, but they have had the joy of helping launch into ministry more than their share of pastors and missionaries. After thinking about legacy, I wanted to stop by and thank them one more time for their investment in my life.
The years have taken their toll as years do, and at 87 my pastor’s painful battle with cancer will probably end sometime soon. But today the mischievous smile was still there as we shared together for over an hour. I prayed for them, planning to take my leave, but we were not finished. He is still the pastor, and once more Pastor Hoyle prayed for me. I am blessed!
The years have taken their toll as years do, and at 87 my pastor’s painful battle with cancer will probably end sometime soon. But today the mischievous smile was still there as we shared together for over an hour. I prayed for them, planning to take my leave, but we were not finished. He is still the pastor, and once more Pastor Hoyle prayed for me. I am blessed!
Adopted
18 07 11 11:43
It was a quick two-day trip that almost didn’t happen. The occasion was a graveside service for Joan’s Uncle Al last Friday in Nevada City (between Sacramento and Reno). After recovering from the shock of no-advance-purchase air fares, I found an affordable air-plus-hotel package into Reno (half the price of the air fare alone, apparently sold with the vain hope that I would gamble in the hotel’s casino) and went down for the service. I’m glad it did.
We gathered for lunch after the service and shared stories about this kind and gentle man whose characteristics make me glad I married into the Gustafson family. It was as we were leaving that someone observed how blessed we were to have been accepted and grafted in to this family. We were related not by blood but by choice.
When we were kids, my brothers and I occasionally teased each other by claiming that one of us (whoever was the target on that particular day) was adopted. Our teasing, of course, missed the point. Adopted - chosen - is good! I’m thankful and proud that this family, part of which gathered last Friday, includes me.
Birthday Cruise
28 05 11 22:18
Cultural Immersion
27 05 11 22:04
Immersing oneself in the local culture can be an interesting experience. I’m proud of my brother, and I’m proud of my Scottish heritage. But there is something not quite right about this....
Ah, Music!
10 03 11 22:19
I am blessed to be able to enjoy my daughter’s extensive musical gifts, but there is something wrong about a pianist without a piano. And so last week when she suggested taking a detour by the piano store, it was easy to agree. It was not her first trip there. Or second. She had been looking for the right vintage piano for some time, and she was there to look again, not to buy. Or so we thought. But we were wrong, for there it was - the rich-sounding instrument deserving of her gifts.
It was delivered today, and it is where it belongs. (I’m pretty sure that there will be a piano and someone to play it in my corner of heaven!) It graces the living room where the overflow of Suzanne’s gifts can bathe my soul as I experience the joy that Longfellow described:
And the night shall be filled with music,
And the cares that infest the day
Shall fold their tents like the Arabs
And as silently steal away.
I am blessed indeed.
We Wish You a Mellow Christmas
25 12 10 20:51
Our big Christmas dinner was aboard a Waterways yacht on Christmas Eve, sailing Lake Union and Lake Washington for almost three hours. It was a delicious meal, elegantly served, that lasted almost as long as the cruise. Harp music, which both Suzanne and I enjoy, filled the boat. It got even better half way through the cruise when the harpist moved from her location in the lower salon bringing her harp upstairs and setting up next to our table. It didn’t take long for the musician-to-musician conversation to produce an invitation for Suzanne to try her hand at the harp. (Could there be a harp in her future? Maybe...)
Christmas Day was quiet and at home by choice, the wildest moments coming as the cat tried to unwrap the catnip gift that Suzanne had wrapped for her. A Christmas jigsaw is a family tradition, and Suzanne just finished this year’s version, she being much more talented than I at recognizing the relationships between the pieces. It has been an intentionally mellow Christmas, and it has been very good indeed.
Matt and Joan are with the Lord whose name Emanuel means God with us. The God that they are with is the God who is with us. Relaxing in His presence makes for a great Christmas.
Mellow Christmas, everyone!
The Tree and Me
05 12 10 23:38
Somewhere in this 40 acres of trees is the right one. Somewhere there is a tree that will call out to us, “take me!” (well, not literally, but we will know). Last Friday was our annual find and cut a Christmas tree excursion. It was a good day for tree hunting, which is to say that it was December in Seattle and nothing wet was falling from the sky. Tree buying used to be easier and far less interesting: Find a local tree seller, pick something reasonably green and reasonably fresh (a tree, not a person), and take it home. A couple of years ago we started a new tradition by cutting our own from a 40 acre tree farm on the top of an Issaquah hill. It’s a good tradition, but you don’t want to know how many trees will fit in 40 acres.
It didn’t take us too long to find the perfect tree. It was a grand fir, the right height, attractive from every side, and pruned to a perfect shape. But it wasn’t calling loud enough. We noted its location and kept looking. Then we heard it; more accurately, Suzanne heard it first. It was a Fraser fir calling out to us. And it needed to be cut. It was encroaching on two adjacent baby frasers whose healthy growth would be threatened if it were not removed. The tree farmer had put it on sale; marked for destruction, one way or another it had to go. It seemed a bit less than perfect - untrimmed, rough edges, lumpy, but with character - sort of like me. And so we left the perfect grand fir standing and chose the fraser.
Tonight Suzanne is decorating the tree. No longer for sale, it is ours, it is beautiful (and becoming more so), and we are glad. It stands in our living room as a silent reminder of the miraculous grace of Christmas. I am less than perfect; I was marked for destruction; and God, who had his choice, chose me.
It didn’t take us too long to find the perfect tree. It was a grand fir, the right height, attractive from every side, and pruned to a perfect shape. But it wasn’t calling loud enough. We noted its location and kept looking. Then we heard it; more accurately, Suzanne heard it first. It was a Fraser fir calling out to us. And it needed to be cut. It was encroaching on two adjacent baby frasers whose healthy growth would be threatened if it were not removed. The tree farmer had put it on sale; marked for destruction, one way or another it had to go. It seemed a bit less than perfect - untrimmed, rough edges, lumpy, but with character - sort of like me. And so we left the perfect grand fir standing and chose the fraser.
Tonight Suzanne is decorating the tree. No longer for sale, it is ours, it is beautiful (and becoming more so), and we are glad. It stands in our living room as a silent reminder of the miraculous grace of Christmas. I am less than perfect; I was marked for destruction; and God, who had his choice, chose me.
Me and Monterey
28 10 10 20:31
I hadn’t been there for years, but I recognized the scene. The rugged, rocky, cypress-dotted coast of the Monterey Peninsula has a unique beauty and powerful appeal. Later that afternoon before boarding the train in Salinas, I needed to drop off the convertible that Enterprise had confused with the compact I had reserved, but for a little while last Tuesday, I just wanted to enjoy the view.
Some scenes can captivate for a few moments, and then one is content to move on. But watching the waves is different. Though there is a clear familiarity about the scene, it is constantly changing, this wave breaking differently than the last, water meeting rock with a surprising splash or a curious calm. Mysteriously, each moment has its own beauty and appeal.
I have been thinking about the focus of this season in my life, and I think that the continually changing interaction of sea and shore and cypress has something to tell me. The scene is recognizable, but it is not static. An infinitely creative God moves the components of my life, sometimes with a surprising splash, sometimes with a curious calm. And I hope that what he creates in the process has an ever-changing beauty.
Reliving History
17 10 10 20:50
It is perhaps a surprise that a transportation system that is constrained by rails should become such a symbol of freedom. It still stirs a love of freedom in my soul - freedom from airport crowds, freedom from TSA lines, freedom from packing too many people into too small a space. In spite of an airplane’s ability to temporarily conquer gravity, I feel much less free on a plane than on a train.
I brought that 50 year old picture along with me, and this afternoon, Jon and I decided to recreate the scene. Some memories, after all, are worth
repeating. We headed for Griffith Park. The train is still there, albeit with a different paint job. We shared the picture with the engineer and, after enjoying the same ride as fifty years ago, took our places in the back of train so Nancy could take a new picture. The only other people close to our age on the train had their grandchildren along, but we were there making history - again. It appears that in the intervening 50+ years, someone shrunk the train, but other than that, it was a freedom moment to remember.
I Know...
21 06 10 18:56
I know Matt is now freer than he has ever been. I know his wonder at God’s grace is growing in God’s presence. I know his pastoral heart that wept with those who weep is weeping no more. I know that his outrageous sense of humor has blossomed into unfettered joy. I know that his Redeemer and mine lives. I know that the Lord he loves has welcomed him home.
And I know that what I know, and what I don’t know, doesn’t erase the pain now that will become joy then.
Summer Comes to Seattle
20 06 10 13:04
Summer officially arrives this weekend, and eventually the sunshine will arrive as well. But today, God is busy watering my world, keeping the grass green and making things grow. I like the rain. Cool and rainy suits me a lot better than hot and humid, so I’m smiling as I welcome summer.
Tea
15 06 10 22:11
Handicapping Horses
11 06 10 22:52
People who know me well are aware that I am not much of a betting man. My risk tolerance tends to be pretty low. But now I had a dilemma: Would I feel guilty at the end of the day if I left with the same $5 bill in my pocket, knowing it had not been used for its intended purpose? I briefly wondered if the parable of the talents applied to this situation.
The horse did not come in first. Or second. Or third. The race started and went well until the horses were about 1/3 of the way around the track. Then my horse (my horse??) stopped. I don’t know much about races, but I’m pretty sure that if you don’t finish the race, you can’t win. (There is an important spiritual lesson here somewhere....) Then the horse turned around and started walking - yes, walking - back to the beginning.
It was an enjoyable day, but I won’t be returning to the track anytime soon. If someone gives me another day at the races with a free lunch thrown in, I’ll probably go. And if they give me some betting money, I just might use it. But next time, I’m using the favorite number method.
A Happy Birthday
28 05 10 11:00
I continue to enjoy living out the discovery that sorrow and joy are not mutually exclusive. It is a good thing to be able to experience the reality of loss without letting go of the joy and the hope that are an integral part of a relationship with Christ. I’m pretty sure Joan is joyfully celebrating today as well, but I don’t think her birthday has much to do with it.
I'm sorry; was it something I wore?
18 05 10 17:38
The beach towels were out of stock, but since it seemed to be a worthy cause, I picked up a couple of shirts, planning to use one as a work-out t-shirt. I wasn’t sure what the reaction might be when I showed up at the gym in a shirt advertising the Los Angeles County Coroner, but last week I found out. It’s a pretty mellow group at the gym, and other than a couple of odd looks, there really wasn’t any reaction, at least not until an elderly gentlemen stepped onto the treadmill next to me. He greeted me, put his towel down, and pulled out his ipod. Then he read my shirt. And without saying a word, he picked up his towel and ipod, and moved two treadmills away.
Sometimes It's Spring
13 05 10 17:30
