wonders and reflections in God's presence

Kate was home this weekend.  It was only her second weekend home since going to Denton in August.  She looked good.  She seems happy and highly capable of taking care of herself.  In so many ways, she’s all grown up.  I told her that this weekend with a lump in my throat.  She’s all grown up.  I love the woman she has become.  I am so proud of her; yet I cry … I miss my little girl.

Why? Why do I miss the child, when I have this wonderful young woman?  Is it because I miss the way she needed me?  is it because I miss the little one who was full of possibilities?  Kate has acused me more than once of living vicariously through her … not as bad as some moms … not bad enough to be psychologically damaging, just bad enough to be embarrassing.  But, tell me … could I date a boy who looks like Donny Osmond?  I think not.  OK .. so I will miss some of the vicarious living … but that’s not what brings the tears, because her life keeps bringing me wonderful experiences.

No, I think the tears relate to the fact that her growing up makes it even harder to deny my own growing up.  I have a birthday next week … I will be closer in age to 50 than 40.  For me it’s not the “big” birthdays that bother me, it’s the one’s inbetween.  As Kate’s future takes form in her, by moving off to college, I realize that I, too, am less and less a woman of possiblity and more and more a woman of reality.  You see, I prefer the realm of possibility … that’s why I love working with young people … that’s why I enjoy futuring in the church … that’s why I can lead congregations into change, imagining a new future … but, as my own story becomes more past than future … I find myself being squeezed out of the realm of imagination and into the realm of what is.

The truth is … I love what is.  I love my family, my home, my job, my community, my friends … I really do.  Even so, sometimes the real-ness of these things is painful.  The depth of beauty of what is is inevitably linked to the limitations of reality.  I realize that.  I just don’t want to have to give up the realm of possibility … of ideals … of imagining a different, perhaps an even better, future.  Ah, but perhaps that’s it … perhaps my middle-age task is to embrace the “what is” in myself, and imagine a better future for my community, for the church, for my daughter, for the world.  Perhaps that’s what maturity is really all about …  Yes, I’m all grown up … and this could be a very good thing.

Anyone know who got what?  Cast list anyone?

Thanks to the women at RevGalBlogs … I have been able to do yet another personality inventory … this one is cool to take and the results seem pretty on-target.

My brother sent this picture of the front gate to his condos on White Oak Bayou in the Heights.

At least he’s home and safe.  His building is still a ways up the hill, so he’s fine.

I had a hard time driving home today. Traffic, of course, was moving slowly along I-10, but Garth road, north of I-10, was very difficult traveling. I drove, following the cars in front of me, but I was driving through water that was dangerously too deep for my little Altima. I saw some stalled cars … but just kept going … it was the only way home. I was most scared when I saw waves and the currents of moving water all around me … I just kept talking to my car … “just a little further, just a little further.” Thankfully, the car listened.

I just kept thinking … oh no … I’m now one of those stupid people I keep seeing on the news … you know the ones who are stuck in deep water and you wonder, “why did they ever go in?”. Yeah … they were probably thinking “just a little further, just a little further.” I didn’t realize how scared I was until I got home and I was shaking all over.

So much for the “tough girl” identity … well, I was tough going through it, but back on safe, dry land, I was a basketcase.

This is so cool!

Diana Butler Bass asked a good questions in today’s blog at God’s Politics.  She asks, “What if the Amish were in charge of the war on terror?”

I, too, have been astonished at the Amish response of making peace at this aweful time of tragedy.  When they have most been wronged, they reach out in acts of compassion and community.  Yes, this is Christ.

Her article brought me back to the few days following the attack of the twin towers and the pentagon.  I wondered then what a compassionate, peaceful response would be to such terror.  I saw those initial days as moments of great potential.  I was struck by the outcries of solidarity from across the globe.  I sensed we were at a crossroads of sorts … would we use that tragedy as a moment to act as peacemakers?  I’m sorry to say, no, we didn’t.

What would a more Amish response to the war on terror look like?  What would it take to change a history of animosity and hatred into peace?  What would it take for us to forgive the terrorists?  What would it take for us to realize the full impact of our own actions on the Muslim world?  What would it take?

Some of the comments to Butler-Bass’s article seem to think that making peace or forgiveness does not lead to national security.  Could it?  I understand the concern, but I am convinced that the need for national security is a human-centered concern, not a Christ-centered concern.   I wish we would think about … if we are a Christian nation … what a Christ-like response would be?   And what a Christ-like response to the situation in North Korea, and currently in Iraq and Afganastan?  What would be different if we had real peacemakers in charge of national security?  What if the Amish were in charge?