You are currently browsing the category archive for the ‘Love’ category.
I think we fear that word.
If you’ve lived long enough and loved hard enough, then your story will undoubtedly reflect most. Then there will be a moment when you said goodbye to someone and never thought it would be the last words you’d speak.
My family is still dealing with the shock of an unexpected goodbye.
Donald Miller in his book A Million Miles in a Thousand Years says, “My uncle told a good story with his life, but I think there was such a sadness at his funeral because his story wasn’t finished. If you aren’t telling a good story, nobody thinks you died too soon; they just think you died. But my uncle died too soon.”
Unexpected goodbyes, losing a loved one whose story wasn’t finished rearranges your life, it change your perspective. If the pain is deep enough our view of the world can be so impacted that we begin to fear saying goodbye. We become so aware of the fact that loving caused the pain that we try to minimize that risk. We close our hearts. We stop loving. We decide that the pain was so intense we’d rather live our lives slowly dying inside because we no longer allow anyone in, than open ourselves up to feeling that loss again. And a beautiful life full of color begins to fade.
We protect ourselves, we guard our hearts from all pain. We shut out the risk and because of that, we shut out life, we stop our story.
Hello
Goodbyes aren’t easy because they remind us that life can change unexpectedly, painfully, achingly. We forget that goodbye must follow hello, and it almost always precedes the next hello. If mankind never said goodbye Lewis and Clark would never have pushed west, America would never have been discovered, man would never have set foot on the moon, and I would never have met the lifelong friends I have here in Texas.
Goodbyes may never be easy, but they can be beautiful. When that goodbye is said to someone you love immensely, there is beauty if you know that this person is following her dreams, if you know she is passionately pursuing the next chapter in her story and is stepping out in faith in spite of the questions and the doubt. It will be beautiful because you know that this goodbye will be followed by new hello’s, new stories and new beauty. This goodbye will be followed by pages and pages of a life’s story being written, pages that would never be written otherwise.
When the person you’re saying goodbye to has a beautiful heart and you realize that this goodbye is a necessary part of the creativity that will result in a beautiful life; when you can see the hands of the Master sculptor forming her into a Proverbs 31 woman, goodbye may not be easier, but you see the beauty.
You know that this goodbye may increase the distance between you, and it may be hard. But you know it will deepen your roots and strengthen the bonds between you. You know that for this eagle to soar, she must leave the nest. And because you want her to soar, to become all she can be, because you want the world to see in her what you already do, you say goodbye.
It isn’t easy. It may never be. But it will be worth it.
Choosing love will open spaces of immense beauty and joy for you, but you will be hurt. You already know this. You have retreated from love countless times in your life because of it. We all have. We have been and will be hurt by the loss of loved ones, by what they have done to us and we to them. Even in the bliss of love there is a certain exquisite pain: the pain of too much beauty, of overwhelming magnificence. Further, no matter how perfect a love may be, it is never really satisfied . . . In both joy and pain, love is boundless.
-Gerald May, The Awakened Heart
Goodbye
Sarah – your story is beautiful. Your heart is beautiful. You are beautiful. Go! Step out into your future. Embrace your life. Fill it with love, passion, and creativity. Change the world and be changed in the process. Live a life worthy of the dreams in your heart! Benjamin Franklin said, “Either write something worth reading or do something worth writing.” Go, do just that!
I love you!
Future of Forestry – Set Your Sails:
Through the ache this week has brought, in the swirling eddies of pain at the loss my family is feeling, there is a current flowing. Ripples of something much deeper, a truth that I believe my uncle knew or sensed even if he couldn’t put words to it.
He knew how to love. You never questioned your worth in his eyes. Yes, if you were one of his kids or a friend of his kids or anyone under 25 and you did something dangerous or stupid, you would know. But you wouldn’t doubt the heart behind his words or actions.
Yes, he could be impulsive at times. He was a tattooed, beer drinking, Harley riding mans man. And yes he liked pretty waitresses and working on old cars. But you knew where his heart lay. He absolutely loved his kids and his girlfriend.
My uncle may not have been a wordsmith, you wouldn’t catch him throwing clay or putting brush to canvas. But in his own way you never doubted that he loved you, was for you and wanted you to know you mattered.
Lessons Learned
The world needs people whose hearts are fully alive, who chase after their passions and dreams. The world needs people who love what they do and do what they love. And the world needs those who are unashamed and unafraid to tell those they love how much they mean to them.
If there is one lesson I’ve learned this week its this: don’t wait. If you love someone, if they mean something to you, tell them.
Tomorrow, we will remember, we will tell stories. Tomorrow my family gives a final send off to a man who lived life like it was meant to be lived. Tomorrow, in a storm of fireworks and sparklers, surrounded by friends and loved ones we say goodbye.
Thank You
Thank you, Uncle Chuck for modeling who a man was supposed to be. For being a father to your three great kids and the others who considered you a dad.
Thank you for the fireworks, the reminders of how important family is, and for living life fully.
I, we all will miss you. But we are better for knowing you.
Tomorrow
Tomorrow, I will not just say goodbye to a man who meant the world to many. I will also say hello to many who mean the world to me.
And tomorrow, I will make sure they know.
One of my biggest struggles with my faith is the voice I’ve always given God.
I’ve always struggled to understand the tone of Gods voice. I’m guilty of placing Gods word into the tone and delivery method that my father used.
When I did that, God became a stern, aloof, shell of a being that was present physically but absent mentally and emotionally. When I did that, life became empty, devoid of any hope and drained of color, excitement and any and all things that made life beautiful.
Realization
A few nights ago, I read Hebrews 11.
But without faith it is impossible to please Him, for he who comes to God must believe that He is, and that He is a rewarder of those who diligently seek Him.
-Hebrews 11:6 (NKJV)
I’ve heard this verse countless times. And each time, I’ve always imagined my dads voice telling me I had to be diligent, that if I wanted to please God, it was all up to me.
I always interpreted that to mean I could never seek enough.
I knew that if there was no pleasing my earthly father, then why even bother trying to please the Almighty? If I couldn’t be diligent enough in my homework, penmanship, exercise routines or mowing the lawn, how was I ever going to please the Creator of the universe?
My dad’s voice was always what I heard.
That evening something changed. What I read, changed. The voice I heard started to sound less like my father and more like a real Father. I began to hear love when I read:
It’s impossible to please God apart from faith. And why? Because anyone who wants to approach God must believe both that he exists and that he cares enough to respond to those who seek him.
Hebrews 11:6 (Message)
Suddenly it wasn’t about my being good enough, or trying hard enough, or being diligent enough. It wasn’t about me, or what I could do. Suddenly, it was about a Father who cares enough to respond.
Fathers
We know what one looks like when we see him.
We know the hopeful expectation of a childlike heart, faithfully waiting for dad to come home from a long day in battle (or at work).
We know the heart of a true father drops his keys, briefcase and sport-coat at the door, and in a moment he transforms from a fearless slayer of office-dwelling dragons into a cowboy, indian, storm trooper, or fixer of broken bikes and skinned knees.
We know the heart of a true father cannot wait to get home and see his kids.
We know he works not to find his purpose, but to provide for his family. Yes, he gives his all every day, but you don’t see him at his fullest until he’s tackled at the backdoor and in minutes has a grass stain on his trousers. You may see the employee in his office, but you see the man, when he bends over, picks up his son who’s been waiting, seeking his father all afternoon and says
I’ve waited all day to see you. And I am so glad I’m home. I love you. Now, let’s go play!
At that moment, though dad may not realize it, he’s building in the heart of his children the very foundations they will need for the rest of their lives.
And in that moment He is showing his kids the very heart of a true father.
A heart that cares enough to respond to those who wait at the backdoor, to those who seek him.
Passion – Waiting Here for You:
Today was a Monday.
Not just Monday on the calendar, but one of those Mondays.
Today would have been a Monday if the calendar said it was Thursday.
And it was my fault, I didn’t start today as I should have.
It was going to be a busy day filled with important calls, meetings and deadlines. I had my first dance lesson scheduled for this evening. And my quiet time, the time that centers me, helps me find the path I should follow, and speaks peace into the situations I face, was all but glossed over this morning.
And Monday ensued.
I had things that to get done. And I got them done. Because I was so important.
I arrived early for the lesson.
In the parking lot I took a moment and reviewed the Groupon confirmation.
For Arthur Murray’s dance studio.
I was at Fred Astaire’s dance studio.
Monday.
Next Monday, things will be different. Because in that parking lot, I realized what I’d forgotten.
I was rescued from an eternity of Monday’s not to meet or attend meetings, to get things done or arrive early.
I was rescued to rescue.
Hillsong United – Aftermath
Last Sunday was quickly drawing to a close and as it was one of the few remaining cool spring days we would see in the DFW metro area, I did what any coffee addicted adult does.
I went to Starbucks.
On the way, my car simply acted odd. When I pulled into the driveway I noticed an odd smell emanating from it. It wasn’t until after research online, reviewing the owner’s manual and some small panicking on my part did I realize it was most likely the cheaper gas I’d used.
It was just a car. But by the way I reacted, by the way my heart panicked, you’d think I’d forgotten to give a patient his medicine.
It was just a car, not life or death. So why the fear? Why the panicking?
Because I still stubbornly cling to the idea that I must perform. That this unfailing, unearned, unmerited, perfect love is something I must somehow be good enough for.
I never will be good enough. That is why it’s called grace.
Even if the odd smell is something worse than cheap gas, even if it’s something worse than just a car, even if I fail, that Love will still be there.
In the midst of the storm, and surrounded by a lot of unknowns, I cling to this.
I don’t have to earn it.
I will never have to earn it.
I cannot earn it.
I am loved perfectly.
There is far more to your life than the food you put in your stomach, more to your outer appearance than the clothes you hang on your body. Look at the birds, free and unfettered, not tied down to a job description, careless in the care of God. And you count far more to Him than birds. –Matthew 6:26
Brooke Fraser – Flags
If we are honest with ourselves, we all want our stories to reflect one thing, hope. We want our lives to show an unending belief in the fact that life is worth living. We want our history to be a testament of overcoming, of victory.
We want to live on the mountaintop. And we ignore the valley.
Too many of us have bought into that lie, into the stories of endless mountaintop moments, of perfect lives flying above the storms. Too many of us believe that if we were just good enough, we would finally find completion, we would know hope because we would know what we were hoping for.
That isn’t real life.
Last weekend I stumbled across a stack of old postcards lying scattered in a box in the back of an antique shop. As I thumbed through them looking for artwork that would catch my eye, something else made me pause and start over. I began to read the letters, the messages on the back of the cards. There were more than thirty, each dated from the early 1940s. And each one penned by Private Divis, opened with Darling or Dear Sweetheart and was sent to a Ms. Jennie nee Garnik of Chicago, Illinois.
They were love letters, letters of hope.
Sometime in 1944 they were married. They stayed married, to each other, up until Mrs. Jennie Divis’ death in 2007.
Sixty three years of marriage.
I would love to believe that once they were married, they hopped from one mountain peak to another, each more beautiful than the last. But real life tells me that in sixty-three years of marriage, they faced hardship, pain, and the loneliness of the valleys. I would like to tell myself that the young love I heard whispered between the words of each post card carried them through those years, kids, careers and life with a sense of ease, but I know differently.
And so do you.
Tomorrow
Tomorrow, Christianity pauses to remember a moment in time that rewrote our stories. And again, I am tempted to paint this memory, this remembrance with the quiet pastels that permeate this season. But in doing so, the bloody reality of what took place over 2000 years ago is lost. Tomorrow isn’t about bunnies, ducklings and little baby chicks. Tomorrow isn’t just the celebration of life, but of a life lived in sacrificial love. A life lived perfectly, because we were imperfect.
Tomorrow, we remember the death of a Saviour and mans first taste of salvation.
Tomorrow we will read the first of many love letters written to you and I more than a millenia ago.
Promises
And as I sat there and read those postcards, and as I read the story we celebrate tomorrow, I hear the same message. We were never promised lives full of mountain peaks and empty of valleys. We were promised however, that we would never walk this path alone.
We were never promised a life void of pain and heartache, but we were promised that if we followed this Saviour who lived perfectly and died in our stead, we would find our true life, real life, abundant life.
I am following Him, Christ. Because more than anything, that is the life I want. I want to know that one random Saturday in the year 2074, someone will be walking through an antique shop and will find my postcards, love letters, letters of hope to my future wife.
And I pray that they will reflect a hope greater that my own. Not because my story was one filled with the pinnacles of life, but because I have found the life, the One I was hoping for. I found abundant life.
Earlier this week I received an email from a friend that shook me.
We’ve known each other for years and simply fell out of touch. We only reconnected a few weeks ago and as I read her email, my heart broke.
Although I glimpsed only a shadow of what she had fought through, the pain and heartache she endured, I could see clearly that something had changed. There was something new, something that didn’t exist the last time she and I talked.
There was deep hope.
There was this rare, amazing beauty.
There was a strength in her words, tempered steel behind her eyes and in her voice, and a profound confidence in her heart and her God that was beautiful, matchless, and radiant.
And in that, I began to hear the echoes of an ageless truth.
God restores.
As I read and reread the email, I could see it. I could see restoration was there, healing was there. Through the pain and the hell she fought through, the plan was always restoration. Restoration of her heart, of her life and the life of her son.
I will always question why we have to face the battles we do, why horrible things happen to amazing people and why God sometimes seems so distant. But in each battle and in spite of the many questions, I am beginning to see the same truth. The heart of a Father, her Father broken far beyond anything I could ever understand. And through the breaking of His heart, love flows.
A perfect love from a perfect God loving an imperfect person perfectly.
And in that love, restoration. The plan was and is always restoration.
.
Hillsong United – Take Heart
Our God Reigns by Delirious just started and I’m stuck, unmoving beyond today’s devotional from John Eldredge:
Every woman is in some way searching for or running from her beauty and every man is looking for or avoiding his strength. Why? In some deep place within, we remember what we were made to be, we carry with us the memory of gods, image-bearers walking in the Garden. So why do we flee our essence? As hard as it may be for us to see our sin, it is far harder still for us to remember our glory. The pain of the memory of our former glory is so excruciating, we would rather stay in the pigsty than return to our true home. We are like Gomer, wife of the prophet Hosea, who preferred to live in an adulterous affair rather than be restored to her true love.
We are the ones to be Fought Over, Captured and Rescued, Pursued. It seems remarkable, incredible, too good to be true. There really is something desirable within me, something the King of the universe has moved heaven and earth to get….
If your heart skipped a beat, if your soul ached when you read Johns devotional, then you are like me. You know there is more. And whether you are running away from your strength or beauty or towards it, you know it is there.
Could it be that we carry in our hearts the essence of our Creator? Is it possible that as creation, something of beauty exists inside of us?
We are the ones to be fought over. You and I. Prized so much, valued so highly, worth enough to be fought for and over, precious enough to be pursued. You and I, our hearts are valued, valuable, worthy of love. And if they are worthy of love then they must be capable of loving in ways we’ve not yet understood.
So go forward, run after your strength, your beauty. Stumble towards the you that you can be, that you need to be. Learn about your heart, this amazing love, and never be the same.
I sat in traffic Tuesday for a sum total of 2 hours and 20 minutes. That’s a lot of time to think. Especially when you’re sitting at one particularly slow intersection for more than 10 minutes.
I could have gotten frustrated at the situation, at the driver next to me who didn’t understand that “right turn only” meant, turn right. I could have gotten upset at the fact that he then proceeded to cut me off, only to go under the speed limit. I had to fight hard against anger when I realized that Google maps wasn’t correct, and the road I wanted didn’t continue under the highway, but stopped short and started again on the other side.
I sat, and fumed.
Somewhere between 2 and 4 mph, I realized something. I realized that I seem to expect traffic to be light, other drivers to pay attention, lights to turn in my favor and an easiness to accompany me on each trip. When I get in my car my understanding of life disappears, and I expect everything to flow smoothly. I expect ease, when I don’t see it in my life.
Sitting, unmoving, surrounded by hundreds of other commuters all trying to get home, it hit me.
Sometimes in life I’m victorious on the wings of eagles. Sometimes I’m winning, on top of the world and unable to fall. Sometimes you hop on the highway and cruise home like traffic didn’t exist. Other times, you wonder why you got out of bed. Other times, you mess up at work, you offend a loved one. You, I…. fail.
As I sat there, waiting for my turn at the intersection, I understood. This is life.
It is imperfect. I am imperfect. We fall into the trap of thinking that we can control the traffic, and when we realize we cannot, we get frustrated. The crazy thing is, we try it all over again the next day. We think we can make things perfect, and we never will.
Life hasn’t been easy, and we were never promised it would be. Sometimes we will need to fight, to push through the chaos surrounding us, trust the One who is writing the story we’re in, and keep going. Yes, sometimes the road is wide open before us, the sun is shining and all is well in the world. Other times though the road is hard, painful and bathed in tears.
Yes, at times we may look like idiots. We may have to back-up the wrong way down a one-way, we may have to change lanes at the last minute, or jump a curb. We may not always get to chose the roads we’re on, the detours we’re forced to take or the chaos we may have to fight through. But we are promised we do not walk this path alone. And we are promised that we will find things worthy of fighting for. And we were promised, that eventually, we would make it home.
ive been thinking lately, about being thankful.
for the things i have, and in some ways, for the things i dont have.
so many of my friends, people my age, have already settled down. they have a wife, kid(s), dog. they’re already rockin’ the white picket fence american dream. and while part of me wants that, yearns for the evident completeness they’ve found, part of me hungers for something more.
john eldredge describes that unsettledness, that desire for something more as the call of God for us to follow Him. john says “According to the part of the story God has allowed us to see, the Haunting we sense is His calling us forth on a journey.”
i wont begin to pretend i know what this journey is or where it will lead. but i am realizing that it’s not something i’m waiting to start. it’s something i have already begun. and thats something you need to realize too.
this, right here, this moment in time, is part of journey.
st. augustine said that the world is a book, and those who do not travel read only a page.
you are already on your journey. as am i.
and im suddenly realizing that part of me was waiting for something to happen. for someone to come along and give me permission to live life, to chase after my dreams.
i was waiting for something that will never happen.
and if this is true, that right now, im living my story…. if its true that the first pages have been turned, and that the book is already dog-eared, then i need to do everything i can, right now, to live life fully. to explore, fight, become a better me.
i need to learn to love. to walk through the fires before me. to face fears, to dance. i need to learn not just to tread water, but sail.
i need to learn to be thankful for where i am and for where i am going.
yes, eventually, i want what my friends have. i want to look into the eyes of my beloved, my betrothed, my bride, my (eve) and see our stories intertwining as one. i want to see our futures, together. i want to see hope, abundant life, and love ive not known reflected back in those eyes.
i want to see two books, two stories, two, becoming one.
and even if on the horizon of our future lie gray skies full with the promise of storms, i will look forward to the rain, to the thunder, to the tempest. because one day, i wont be sailing alone.
hillsong united – aftermath
FindingTheCourageToDream.com 