Author: Kristin

I find that I think best when I write. If you choose to follow me, you will get a first-hand look at my thoughts as I contemplate life as a woman, wife, mother, daughter, writer, teacher, and follower of Jesus. Issues that seem to recur revolve around parenting, ministry, chronic illness, and teaching.

Some real gems

~ Kristin ~ Leave a comment

I just looked back over my posts from this week and realized that I have written about women for the last four days!  I wasn’t planning to do that; it just worked out that way.  And since it’s Friday, I think I will hang in there for one more.  I want to write about another group of women that I know.  I don’t belong to their group; I don’t have what they have.

One of these women was my colleague for the past nine years.  She not only taught six, yes six, sections of English, but she coached cheerleading, coordinated the senior all night party, headed the accreditation process, and did anything, I mean anything, that I asked her to do.  She went to conferences, researched teaching strategies, met with students, covered my classes when I was out of the building, and encouraged me at every turn.  Outside of school, she trains and completes half-marathons, shares her karaoke skills every Tuesday night, and sets a high bar as aunt-of-the-century to her niece and nephews.  The girl doesn’t quit. Oh, yeah, did I mention she sings in the church choir, teaches Sunday school, helps out at VBS, and runs the summer reading program.   And she does all this with laughter, integrity, and Christian love.

Another woman I have known for decades.  She has been a minister to youth for as long as I have known her.  She is a bit crazy, as all youth staff need to be, and so passionate about the souls of her charges.  She takes these kids on trips, teaches their confirmation classes, and looks for new ways to deliver the gospel, even after thirty years in the ‘business’.  She challenges their thinking, asks the hard questions, and isn’t afraid to tell the truth.

Still another is a woman who has raised I think seven adopted children — three still live with her.  The three that I know all have very special needs.  They are all adults, over twenty-one, but none of them can live completely alone.  I have been amazed by her willingness to do what each one needs. She relocated from Texas to Missouri so that one could get better programming.  She encourages another to be involved in a local church, by himself, so that he can have a sense of independence — walking to church, having his own friends, and serving in his own way.  She knows their stories of abuse, neglect, and challenge, and she opens up avenues to let them grow in their own way, at their own pace.

And another dear lady runs a dance studio after her long days as an engineer building things like highways and bridges and baseball stadiums — you know, basic stuff. She teaches people to dance, to stay fit, to have fun.  She runs a national event that brings dancers from across the country together.  And, you know, in her spare time she does benefits for those trapped in the sex trafficking industry, takes missions trips, and oozes the love of God on everyone around her.  Yes, oozes.

What do these women have in common?  They are all doing this as singles.  They don’t go home to the support of a partner.  They rely on family, friends, and colleagues for encouragement and support.  And, folks, they are getting God’s work done. Period.

They are soldiers.  I don’t have what they have.  Tireless energy.  Infectious passion. Unbelievable selflessness.   Their desire to serve God and others is inspiring.  I lift my glass in admiration of these women.  I thank God for them.

Proverbs 31:10, 30

she is worth far more than rubies

…a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.

Whatever you do…Re-visit

~ Kristin ~ 2 Comments

I wrote this post in my very early blogging days, when I was just starting to recognize others after my long period of mission-only focused soldiering. Now, as I finish just my second full week of staying home, sheltering in place to flatten the coronavirus curve, I’m doing it again — noticing what others are doing. Some of you are wishing you could help, others are drowning in the flood of responsibilities and activity you find yourselves surrounded with, and some of you are just plain lonely. Whether you are a medical professional, a displaced worker, or a parent of young children, whatever you are doing right now has value — so hang in there and reach out for some support. We’re in this together.

Many of the conversations I have had with women lately have been about how we spend our time. It is probably no surprise that most of the women I have time to have lunch with or walk with are not working at the moment either, but let me tell you what some of these women do when they are ‘not working’.

One is homeschooling two children, aged 10 and 11, coordinating and leading worship at her church, and working as administrative support to its two pastors, one of which is her husband.

Another is teaching Pilates, leading Bible study, coordinating a MOPS group, working part-time at her daughter’s new business, maintaining two residences, and supporting her husband who is a physician.

Then there is the gal who is on a board that is trying to open a preschool for hearing impaired children, planning for a state-wide women’s conference, traveling with her husband, and maintaining several other projects.

And another woman who is helping her daughter and son-in-law relocate with their infant child, coordinating a state-wide event, cheering on three other adult children, and partnering with her executive pastor husband as he travels all over the country.

And guys, they all had time for me. 

Each of these women shared a heart to do the work of God and to do it well.

Each of them have set their own needs aside for significant periods of time to care for others: one had a parent with cancer, another had a father-in-law with a degenerative disease who lived in her house for seven years (!), another had a child and husband with cancer — at the same time (!), and another had two children with hearing impairments. Yet none of them complained about the burden that they had carried, but rather, I am not kidding, rejoiced at the blessings that God had provided in their circumstances. They smiled as they shared their stories.

Pretty humbling, right?

Yet, just as humbling is the mother I was to meet with today. She has been raising three daughters for the last umpteen years, just started a part-time job, and is home today with the youngest who is sick.  She is setting aside our time to walk and talk together, so that she can attend to her first calling — loving that little girl.

It’s not glamorous most of the time, is it?  We clean up messes, kiss away hurts, wipe tears and noses. We shop for the exact see-through divided folder that every student has to have. We scurry to soccer practice in the rain and then wash the muddy uniform after.  We hold a ponytail while a little girl throws up in the toilet. We bake a batch of cupcakes at 11 pm then clean up the kitchen afterward.

This is God’s work.

God’s work is also getting up early to go to work before your children are even out of bed. It’s caring for the children of others — in the classroom or the NICU. It’s tending to the sick, the elderly, the dying, and the lonely. It’s punching a clock, mopping a floor, preparing a meal, and balancing a column.

Whatever you have to do right now — stay at home, travel far away, go to school, or look for work — is God’s work. It’s His work in you, through you, and for you.

As we show up and do our best (or even our semi-best), He sees us and He supports us. He offers us His love and patience when ours is all but gone. When we blow it — lose our temper or say the wrong thing — He offers grace. He shows us the power of forgiveness, and we get to see first hand how God changes hearts. Maybe even our own.

Today my day is not likely to be glamorous. It’s another day of making a meal, folding a load, making some calls, and finishing some tasks. It’ll be nothing to write home about. Nevertheless, I’ll be doing God’s work, so I’ll give it my best shot.

Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for God not for a human master.

Colossians 3:23

True story

~ Kristin ~ 2 Comments

Once upon a time there was a confused little college girl who was struggling to figure out life.  One day her friend asked her to cover a babysitting shift.  The girl agreed, and waited to be picked up at her dorm.  A snarky young youth minister named Lloyd  drove her to his nearby home where he introduced her to his perky little wife, Twila, and their energetic and wide-eyed daughters Angie and Megan.

Over the months and years, the girl played games, watched television shows, did homework, and ate snacks with the young girls while their parents went to Bible studies, led youth events, taught classes, and handled other responsibilities.

While Lloyd had a very busy position at the church, Twila, in addition to supporting him and caring for the girls, was a hospice nurse.  She went to homes and cared for many who were packing their bags.  She prayed with them and even waved goodbye as many went to meet Jesus.

The girl watched Lloyd and Twila serve everyone around them, claiming no fame for themselves, but always doing what was best for others. (It’s true, I’m not just saying that.) In fact, when the girl was in need of a place to stay, not once, but twice, Lloyd and Twila moved Angie and Megan into one bedroom so that the girl could have the other.  They allowed the girl to ‘cook’ (lots of oopses along the way), ‘clean’, and transport the girls in exchange for room and board.

Many years later, when the girl was grown with children of her own, and living far away in another state, Lloyd and Twila moved with their granddaughters just a literal stone’s throw away.  Again the girl was touched by the servant hearts of Lloyd and Twila who, even though they were busy, were never too busy to give a hug, sincere eye contact, and a listening ear.

Even when Twila got breast cancer, she still seemed to give more to those who were caring for her than they could give to her.  The girl watched her minister to other women who thought they were bringing meals and cards to encourage Twila.  Even when she was loaded with chemo, Twila beamed at everyone who came into her view. She remembered faces and names, and prayed for others continually.

Later, as they once again moved far away, the girl watched Twila tolerate cancer for many, many years.  She also watched Lloyd,  in his matter-of-fact way, care for Twila and love her through that long battle.  She admired Angela and Megan as they grew into adulthood watching their mother fight and learning how to love like she did.  She marveled at the granddaughters who had front row seats for such models of love and faithfulness.

Then, one day, at just the right time, the family noticed that Twila’s bags were packed.  They gathered around her, called out to legions of friends far and wide to pray,  and waved goodbye as she went to meet Jesus.

The girl watched from afar, thanked God for touching her life with these people , and wept.

[she] fought the good fight, [she] finished the race,

[she] kept the faith…

2 Tim 4:7

Being Social

~ Kristin ~ 1 Comment

Life is weird right now.

The last time I didn’t have a job I had three children at home with me.  They were 8, 9, and 11.  The activities of my life were ordered around their needs and desires.  A typical day would have been structured around three meals at appropriate times, outdoor activities, reading, playing, caring for the house, and personal hygiene.  I didn’t have much wiggle room.  If I wanted to do something without children, I had to do some coordinating with my husband, who was very cooperative, or arrange playdates with friends.

It’s a whole new world in 2014.

Chester doesn’t demand much.  At the moment, he is curled up at my feet under the desk where I am writing.  He’s been feed and watered.  So, now the day is mine to do as I please.  Hmmm.  Interesting.

I have shared that I have established a routine to start my days.  My husband informed me this weekend, in his counselor’s wisdom, that ‘establishing routines is one of the best things you can do during a transition’.  Thanks, dear.  Most days include Bible study, blogging, exercise, reading, my favorite Netflix show, and some socializing.

In order to keep track of how I am doing medically, I have obtained an app that tracks my diet, exercise, social interactions, rest, and symptoms.  Each day I record all the data and the app charts my ‘self-management’ and the ‘arthritis impact’.  It’s actually quite fascinating.  The app has confirmed that I am doing some of the right things to minimize my symptoms, but reminded me that I could be doing more.

One of the most striking realizations from this app is that social interactions are very important to my well-being.  Who knew?  I realized that diet, exercise, rest, and medication played a part, but hanging out with people?  Casually?

For the past ten years, I have squeezed in some socializing on the fringes of my very busy teaching and parenting schedule.  In spite of my combat mode, God did bless me with some great people who met me where I was and endured the ‘current state of affairs’.  I am not sure they would recognize me at the moment.  I joke that I have gone from type AAA to a casual type B.  I used to be at school before 7:00 am, dressed and pressed,  in order to get my ducks in a row. Now it is not rare to find me still in pajamas at noon!  I may have already done my Bible study, blogged, and straightened the house, but I’m still not ready to greet the public.

But today is different!  Today I have not one, but TWO, social engagements!!!  I mean, I’m just trying to improve my health here!  This morning I am meeting a new friend to go walking.  This afternoon I am meeting a dear friend who I haven’t seen in ages!  I know, I know, I was supposed to go grocery shopping and mail a couple of packages, but, guys, it’s for my health!

In all seriousness, I feel so blessed to have this season of transition, this grace period where I have room to breathe, time to think, and freedom to socialize.  I am extra blessed that God has plunked me down in a space where I can connect with friends, new and old.  And, really, the groceries can wait.

I John 4:11

Dear friends, since God loved us,

we also ought to love one another.

Not just for women, but about women

~ Kristin ~ 1 Comment

When did the shift happen?  When did it become ok to portray women as competitors and even enemies of one another?  Do you know what I am talking about?  The images are everywhere — magazines, television, movies, books.  The idea that I need to be better than other women — thinner, smarter, more powerful, sexier, better dressed — permeates our culture in such a way that potential allies are turned into suspects.

I believed the lie for quite a while.  Very few women passed enough tests and criteria to be allowed into my inner circle of trust.  Once in, they were placed on an extremely high pedestal from which they will surely never fall.  But getting there took a pretty special combination of traits — honesty, humor, authenticity, strength, and the resilience to let my crap bounce off of them.  Few were chosen.

Many were kept at arm’s length for whatever reason — I could fabricate a reason in a heartbeat.  I missed out on the blessing of many female friendships because of my insecurities and the belief that I needed to be suspicious of the enemy.

That belief is a lie of the one and only enemy.

Women need one another.  

I knew I needed my inner circle  — I had a best friend all through elementary school who remains so high on the pedestal that the mention of her name brings me pause. I had a partner in crime through middle and high school whose name can still bring out the mischievous teenager in me.  I bonded with a dear friend in my freshman year of college who was so steadfast that though our time together was short, she remains on the pedestal today.  My dear friend from the rest of undergrad has earned the title of aunt to my children and godmother to my baby because of the way our hearts are knit together.   These women…they had a hand in shaping me.  I didn’t suspect their loyalty.  I didn’t question their motives.  They unconditionally supported me.

But I believed they were rare and that real women didn’t act that way.  Real women wanted to judge me and outdo me.  They were suspect and not to be trusted.

I was wrong.

We all need each other.  We need encouragement.  We need eye contact.  We need to be heard and understood.  We need affirmation and acceptance.  Unconditionally.  When we don’t get it, sometimes our claws come out.  We start thinking that others are the competition. We even behave as though we are trying to outdo one another.

I have been noticing a lot of women lately.  I have been noticing they aren’t out to get me.  They are reaching out to me: inviting me to lunch, or to go on a walk, or to visit their church.  They are encouraging me: through email, text, Facebook, and in person. They are befriending me.

I am beginning to believe that most women really want to be in relationship with one another, not in competition with one another. Is it possible, that our media is (gasp) giving us an inaccurate portrayal of reality? (It’s just a question, folks, not a political statement.)

I’m going to go out on a limb here.  Instead of trusting my long held and faulty beliefs, I am going to trust God and take a few chances on some women. I think they can be trusted.  I mean, they are taking a chance on me. 

Romans 12: 10…16

…be devoted to one another in love.  Honor one another above yourselves…

live in harmony with one another…

Love that lasts

~ Kristin ~ Leave a comment

During this time of transition, my husband and I are visiting many churches — some of them because he is speaking there, others because we want to get to know the area and find a church home, and still others because we want to learn where those we are serving with are worshiping.  Today was option three.

We worshiped with one of my husband’s coworkers at an area church that is focused on outreach — they are very intentional about connecting with the community in very tangible ways. Pretty cool place.

The message today was centered on how to have love that lasts — sure, marital love, but also love between friends, between parent and child, etc.

I will take a short commercial break to let you know that my husband and I, along with a half-dozen other couples, were asked to stand in the aisles of the church and dance.  It’s not what you think…the pastor had all the married couples stand like they often do at weddings.  Then he asked those who had been married five years or more to remain standing, then those who were married ten years or more, etc.  Finally, all the couples who were married more than twenty-three years were invited into the aisles. Music was played.  The couples danced, and then were invited to sit as the years ticked on.  You know the drill.  The final couple standing had been married forty-three years! What a blessing!

The pastor then suggested three methods for planning for a ‘love that will last’.

  • Worship God
  • Work on yourself
  • Serve your spouse

Three steps.  Should be easy, right?  Read them again.  Not so easy.

However, I have to say that after twenty-four years of marriage I have to agree with his strategy.  Although we are flawed human beings who have not always put God first in our lives, we did marry with the intent of serving God together.  I believe that this foundation is the sole reason that we are still together after all these years.  It hasn’t all been a walk in the park.  There have been some (very) difficult days, weeks, months, and even years.   The grace of God coupled with our commitment from the beginning to hang in there, no matter what, has held us together.

Now, I may have started this marriage thinking that both of us were perfect and that we were perfect for each other, but I have since faced reality.  I will admit that I noticed his flaws before my own.  Shocking, I know.  But I remember quite clearly one day, in a living room with sculpted brown carpeting, when I was very upset with my husband. He had the audacity to suggest that he was not the one who would ever make me happy.  What?  Well, then, why in the world did I marry him?  Amidst my fussing and fuming, he reminded me that the only one who would truly bring me contentment would be God, since He is the only one who is not selfish or flawed.  Well, then.

It may have been about that time that I began to look in the mirror.  Small glances at first.  A lot needed to be addressed; it would take a life time.  I’m still working on it.

As far as the third area that the pastor suggested, I must say that my husband has always been better at serving me than I am him.  In fact, it began on the night that he proposed to me.  He washed my feet, yes, literally washed my feet with a basin and a towel, and then told me that he wanted to serve me for the rest of our lives.  And, so far, he has done that.  Even during the ugly times, he has put me, and the children before himself.  He has gone without to make sure that we wouldn’t have to. He has stayed up late and gotten up early to make sure that we could all sleep as much as we needed.  He has worked his tail off to provide for us.  But most importantly, he has served us by serving God first.  We haven’t all always appreciated that, but it was precisely the right thing to do.

I don’t know if I will ever be as much of a servant to him as he has been to me.  I still get distracted by protecting myself, you know, kicking butts and taking names.  But, it is getting easier all the time to take care of him, especially when I realize how well cared-for I have been.

This morning was a good reminder of how blessed we have been.  I am glad that we have this grace period to pause and take stock. We are rich to have a love that lasts.

Matthew 19:6

…what God has joined together, let no one separate.

My journey

~ Kristin ~ Leave a comment

Have you ever plotted your life journey on a map?

I’ve done it a couple of times in the classroom.  My students and I were once reading a book about a girl who had lived all over the country with her job-hopping aunt.  We plotted her life, and then I plotted mine via GoogleMaps to show them the journey.

My St. Louis, Missouri students always thought I was making up the fact that I grew up in St. Louis, Michigan and that I went to St. Louis High School.  So, I always had to prove to them that it did exist.

This morning I was reading about the travels of Paul, Silas, and Timothy.  My Bible study had me combing through Acts to plot a portion of their journey on a Biblical map.  It’s pretty incredible, actually.  Their commitment to share the Gospel had them trekking all over the countryside with no help from Expedia or Hotwire.  And, often, they were chased out of town by a violent mob, or worse, tossed in the slammer for a while.

I wouldn’t say my journey has been that dramatic. I am going to try to share a link to a map I created this morning that shows all the places I have lived in my just under fifty years*.  There are twelve points on the map representing the different towns/cities I have lived in.  Within those cities and towns I have lived in multiple houses.

The point of the Bible study was to look at how God had nudged or shoved each of us through our decisions.  How he had orchestrated my life journey. So, I got a bit introspective.  I got to thinking that any little change along the way could have reconfigured my whole life.  Have you ever thought about that?

What if my parents had not divorced, and we had moved with my dad to Indiana? How might my life be different?

What if I hadn’t transferred from Michigan State to Concordia so long ago?

What if my husband and I had not resigned our positions and moved to be closer to our son?

What if we had chosen to not go to the Seminary with three school-aged children?

What if he had not accepted this call back to Michigan?

So much would be different!  With any of those choices or so many other decisions, the trajectory would have been altered dramatically!

But, God allowed this journey.  He placed me in a loving family that has now stretched from coast to coast. He gave me lifelong friends from each location along the way.  He shaped me through my experiences as a student, a teacher, a mother, a wife. He has led us from one step through the next, all the while shielding and protecting us.

And through all the moves and transitions in my life, I (and you) have been sitting right in the palm of His hand.  It is mind-boggling. I wouldn’t change one step.

Psalm 20:24

A person’s steps are directed by the Lord…

* http://www.mapcustomizer.com/map/klrlifemap

Gardening?

~ Kristin ~ 1 Comment

Well…it still looks a little pathetic, I know.  But you’ve gotta think of it as a symbol.  We’re in a process over here, folks.  We have certainly not arrived yet.

It started back in Missouri.  Our daughters objected to 1) chopping down a real Christmas tree for an environmental reasons, and 2) using an artificial Christmas tree for aesthetic reasons.   So, twice, yes twice, we purchased potted evergreens and used them for Christmas trees.  The florist assured us that we could transplant these trees into our yard come spring, “No problem.”

Well, the first one died.  We dug it back up and threw it away.

We tried again the next Christmas.  We eased the tree from the house to the garage, then to the patio, then to the yard.  Still, it all but died.  Our neighbor, an expert gardener, watched from afar shaking her head.  Sigh.  I believed, I really did, that the tree would live.  And sure enough, new growth started at the base of the trunk.  The neighbor, chuckling,  suggested we chop off all the dead stuff and leave that one little living sprig.  We did.  It looked ridiculous.  But it began to grow.

When we moved two years later (after using a cheap artificial tree for two Christmases), the sprig had turned, sort of, into a shrub.  Whenever we had guests, people would politely fail to mention this little bit of ugliness in the back of our yard. I mean, seriously, we don’t know how to landscape or place things in the right spots, but, doggone it, I wanted that tree to grow! (I’ve told the renters and the leasing agent not to touch it!  I want to see progress when I visit St. Louis!)

I must pause here to say that my Grandpa Meyer was an expert gardener.  His yard was his showcase.  Every bit of it was planted with roses, peonies, geraniums, lilies, gladiolas, tomatoes, tulips, daffodils,…My great grandmother was the same — she even had a pond full of water lilies!  I kid you not!  My brother is a landscaper, for Pete’s sake.  Me?  I am pretty excited by the fact that we have kept a Bonsai tree alive, through group effort, for over five years.

Anyway, when I moved into this little house by the river, I had to admit that the exterior looked a little bleak.  (You may have seen the picture of the overgrown beast that was there when we moved in.)  I really wanted to make it look a little more inviting before the students even moved in.  Well, I missed that goal.  But, folks, I am making progress.

On my way back home from my excursion earlier this week, I stopped off to visit my cousin and his family.   He had offered that he would share some Japanese irises that had come out of my grandfather’s yard.  Now that you know how sentimental I am about my grandparents, you know that I had to have them.  He gave me a bunch of irises, yes, but also, he gave me brown-eyed Susans, a hosta, and the healthiest rhubarb I have ever seen in my life.  He filled the trunk of my car with plants!

I don’t know much about gardening, have I mentioned that?  In the past, I have thrown things in the ground and hoped for the best.  This time I Googled it. Then I went to the store and bought gardening soil and manure (that was a first).  My husband was out of town, and we had left all of our substantial tools in Missouri with the house, but I was determined.

So I hauled those bags of dirt out of my car, slit them open and dumped them into the beds.  I mixed the dirt around with a hand trowel. (I am telling you, I am strong-willed.) I planted most of the items in those beds in the photo. I also put in some daffodil and tulip bulbs.  The rhubarb I put around back where it would get more sun.  (The grounds crew isn’t going to be too thrilled with the placement. Yikes!)

You can see from the photo that it still doesn’t look great.  The shrubs that were there are a bit misshapen.  The lilies are lying down pretending to be dead.  The brown-eyed Susans look a little weary.  And, I still am not sure if that hosta is going to work there.

All of life right now is a bit of an experiment.  I’m not working.   My diagnosis is pending. I am learning how to live differently. I’m sharing it all in a public forum.  Heck, I even Googled before I put the plants in the ground.

Things are different around here, kids.  Anything could happen now that we’ve entered the next chapter. 

I Corinthians 3:7

So neither the one who plants nor the one who waters is anything,

but only God who makes things grow.

Lord, grow me, and, if you don’t mind, grow my plants, too.

Walking, part 2

~ Kristin ~ Leave a comment

On the heels of sharing the blessings of my aunt, uncle, and my grandparents, I read my Bible study this morning that focused on hindrances that keep us from doing what God has planned for us.

The study looked at three hindrances — others, Satan, and good old numero uno, that’s right, the person in the mirror.

If I’m going to be honest, and by now, you know I am going to be, my chief hindrance has always been … me.  Sure, I have faced human opposition.  Of course, I have experienced spiritual warfare. But really, Satan doesn’t have to spend as much time on me as he does on others, because I create my own issues.

You already know that my biggest hindrance is my belief that I am self-sufficient, battling through all obstacles, kicking butts and taking names. I prefer doing to being, and I often do so much that I don’t listen to others, let alone God.

In spite of this, God has managed to use me for ministry.  It’s usually like an out of body experience when a student or friend comes to me in the middle of my busy-ness, pours out her heart, and asks me for help or prayer.  I think to myself, “Wow, God kinda plunked that down right in front of me, didn’t He.”  He has to be very obvious to get my attention.  There are usually tears involved.  I am aware enough to notice tears. Or, a cluster of frantic teenagers saying something like, “Mrs. Rathje, you have to do something!”  Ok, ok!  You’ve got my attention.

But, in the spirit of the next chapter, I am trying to do things differently.  And, in the spirit of full-disclosure, I must remind you that God fully-orchestrated this next chapter.  He interrupted my busy-ness to bring me to this grace period.  He initiated the chain of events that led me to this Bible study.  He has provided my little house by the river.

And, you know, in the last two months (yes, I have been in Ann Arbor two months!) I have been noticing a lot more. I have been able to hear that still small voice, and have even been willing to listen to it.   I have been able to see the people around me, and notice what is happening in their lives.  I am embarrassed to say that this is a new experience.

When you are in your combat gear, moving at break-neck speed, everyone blurs together.  Yeah.

So, visiting my Uncle Louis and Aunt Margaret, remembering Grandpa and Grandma Meyer, and realizing their commitment to loving God and loving me, I am inspired to shift.  I see the blessings in fully-embracing this next chapter.  I am not sure what all God has planned, but I am willing to watch and see.  I am willing to toss the combat gear.  I am willing to walk into whatever it is that He has set before me.

Hebrews 12: 1

Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses,

let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely,

and let us [walk] with endurance the race that is set before us.

On the topic of family….a Re-visit

~ Kristin ~ 1 Comment

This one goes way back to September of 2014, but Monday’s post about my mom got me thinking about my grandparents, so please indulge me as I reminisce.

I must mention my grandparents. I was blessed to know my great-grandmother, Elsa Laetz, until she died when I was twenty-four.  I knew my grandparents, the Meyers, until they went to join her when I was forty-one.  I could write for days about the lessons I learned from these three, but I think I’ll focus today on the importance of family.

I remember climbing into the car with my parents and siblings and driving literally through the woods and over the river to see my grandparents. As we we exited the highway, passed mansions in the historic district and then the Kroger and the Big Boy, my excitement would build. As soon as my dad slid the car into P for park, I would leap out and run to the front door to ring the bell.

I can still see my petite “Little Grandma,” as we called her, open the door and smile out at me. “Gramps” would be right behind her peeking over her shoulder. They would hug me, gush about how I’d grown, and welcome me in…

…right in to grandma’s kitchen. She could cook, and she always did — Cornish hens, leg of lam, ham, roast beef, mashed potatoes, stuffing, salads, fruit, you name it. She made it seem effortless to put a feast on the table for eight, or eighteen, or twenty-eight. Everyone would fit around tables in the kitchen, the dining room, and sometimes even the living room, filling and re-filling their plates until they couldn’t possibly eat one more bite.

Several times a year, my grandparents opened their home and had all of us over. What a crowd — my grandparents, my great grandmother, uncles, aunts, and cousins. In the winter we were up and down the stairs, playing, laughing, and I’m sure yelling. In the summer we were in and out of doors doing the same. Invariably, an argument or fight would break out among the children, and I usually ended up in tears, but there was always an extra-squishy hug and grandpa’s signature multi-move handshake before we climbed back into the car, after dark, to head home.

Now, I know that I view history with rose-colored glasses. I realize that it wasn’t as perfect as I remember, but even when I acknowledge that there were tense moments, misunderstandings, and insecurities, I can still say that everyone in the family was always welcome at the Meyers.

And you didn’t even have to be family. My grandpa was known for bringing home what I call ‘strays’ — the single guy who is new to town, the church workers who are far from home, the man whose wife passed away last year. And, if you came once, you were family from that moment on.

My definition of family stems back to the example of Grandpa and Grandma Meyer, their open door policy, their generous hospitality, and their willingness to welcome strangers into the fold.

Why? Because there is nothing at all like the feeling that someone has been peering out the window, waiting for you to arrive, preparing the best foods, and arranging the house in anticipation of your arrival. Nothing makes you feel more loved and more treasured than being embraced by someone who has been looking forward to being reunited with you.

And these gatherings I remember from my childhood — amazing as they were — are just an appetizer for what’s to come.

My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am.

John 14:2-3.

Now that’s what I call a family reunion.

I imagine Grandma and Grandpa greeting me at the door with smiles and hugs.

I can’t wait to see them!