All of this inspection and repair got me thinking this morning about my spirit. I realize that I need to take the light of the Word and look around. Are there cracks in my foundation? Do I have any old boxes in my head that have bad ideas in them that I need to get rid of? (I certainly know there are cobwebs up there!) I am sure my outlook could use a washing down.

Moving to a new place is a spiritual as well as a physical process, even if you are just moving around town. There are decision to be made, new people to meet, different routes to work or school which require a change in routine. It can certainly be overwhelming and stressful if we let it. So while I am inspecting my main focus will not be the details of the move, but the details of God and his peace.

Now if you will excuse me I have some work to do!

Let me be the first to say that sometimes we must live years with difficult circumstances. As a Christian mom of a child with special needs, I have become a bit of an expert at calling for more grace and Father God has never disappointed me. That doesn’t mean everything was instantly better. Patience is a learned virtue. And learn I did.

Then last week happened. And we saw the floodgates opened wide. We were given a blessing that enabled us to pay off all of our debt, save our mortgage. We had enough left to finish the repairs on our home and cover moving expenses. Oh, did I mention that Harold was given a wonderful car?

So for the first time in our 29 year marriage, absolutely all our needs are met and beyond! It is such a weird feeling. We look at each other in wonder, in awe of how God has everything wrapped up for us before we move. This has been truly more than we ever dreamed of and to say we are thankful does not begin to express what is in our hearts at this moment.

I encourage you to not lose hope, no matter your circumstances. As a preacher once said, the “now” of God will arrive in time.

Out of this interesting work comes the Tiny Book of Tiny Stories. Sixty collaborations were picked from the 8,569 submissions to the project. HitRECord sent me a (tiny) copy to review. I must say this book took me by surprise. I didn’t exactly know what to expect. A quick flip through revealed short sentences paired with pictures.

Since I get a lot of (free!) books for review I have to kind of pick and choose what I want to read. I am glad that itBooks sent this to me. I put this one at the top of my reading list. I love its quirkiness and sometime wise writings. One of my favorites is : “A man touched me, his hand…my thigh. I touched him too. My fist…his jaw.” Now that’s something I can totally enjoy!

Tiny Book actually made me laugh out loud at times, which is always a plus. Because of the books size you could devour it all at once but it is better savored in small bites. It sits on my reading table next to my side of the couch for easy access.

If you would like more info on Mr. Gordon-Levitt’s collaborative projects and see what other artists are doing visit www.hitrecord.org. You can also follow Gordon-Levitt on Twitter at hitRECordjoe.

Keeping my thoughts focused on the more inanimate details is a form of protections. It’s a type of blindness that prevents me from seeing all the amazing friends I have here.

Which is better? Should I save the inevitable pain and sadness for the very end or should I start feeling that pain now, six months before we leave?

I’ve written here in earlier posts about how there are small sadnesses in daily events. That still happens but it seems my emotions only really get me when I am having my semi-weekly lunch with my best friend Patty. I found myself crying on the way to lunch a couple of weeks ago, thinking about how much I am going to miss our lunches.

As I was writing this my friend Roger came by my office to tell me how the reality of our move is really hitting him. (He and my husband are very close.) We talked about the sad-now-or-later thing. He said he was sad now.

So, dear reader, what is you preference in the now-or-later debate going on in my head? Any and all advice is welcome.

Did you know that our God is emotional? He is jealous, merciful, angry, patient, kind, loving, all those adjectives and more. We are emotional because He made us that way. He longs for us to commune with him, and oh, how we did! Oh, how I still long to, and do! A song can take me back there in an instant. Memories of standing next to friends, being so grateful for the presence of God in our midst. Come again, oh King! We bid you come.

This month I most certainly resemble a whirling dervish, without the whole perfection thing. It is the month of tying up 2011 into a neat accounting package with a bow on top. Lots to do and lots of deadlines! Yuk!

However, Serenity, or perhaps Felicity, turned me on to Ann Voskamp’s blog. Ms. Voskamp has written a book, “1000 Gifts” which, as she describes it “… celebrates grace and recognizes the power of gratitude.” She challenges the reader to find 3 things every day to be thankful for. At the end of a year you will have the “1000 Gifts”.

It seems this is the perfect time for me to start practicing thanksgiving. I have been on a “mindfulness” kick for several months as my family & I countdown to our move back to California. I don’t want to take one moment of our dwindling days here for granted. Sometimes things to be thankful for overwhelm me to the point of tears. On other days I can’t seem to find anything, as my mind trips over itself with lists of things to be done and friends to visit “one last time”. A daily centering is what I need so I am looking forward to this process.

What new things are you considering? Do you avoid new year’s resolutions? Or do you jump in with verve?

Eleven years ago on Dec. 22nd, Harold’s dad passed away. We buried him on Christmas Eve. The fun part of Christmas was gone for our family, not only that year, but for a few years after. He was such an amazing man of God. The knowledge that he was in heaven was a comfort but we missed him.

This year on Dec. 21st, Harold’s wonderful Aunt Erma passed away unexpectedly after falling and hitting her head on a concrete step. Her funeral will be on the 27th. She was my mother-in-love’s sister and best friend. Erma never married so her family was her sister’s family. She will be buried in the plot next to my father-in-love. Once again Christmas joy is dampened for us.

Yesterday I was thinking about Aunt Erma and how grateful I am that she is in Heaven now, celebrating the real Christmas with the best choir possible. It came to me that with the promised birth of Jesus came the promise of His death. He took on the earthly form of a baby for one purpose: to become our substitution and die to free us from an eternal sentence of existence without God.

Birth guarantees death. We are all dying in slow or fast increments. It hovers in the background usually, waiting its appointed time. As Christians we are straining at the bonds of our flesh, wanting to be in eternity with our King, Jesus. Meanwhile we live, celebrating births and looking for comfort in the deaths of those we love.

Mary knew that Jesus would one day die. We all know our children will die, hopefully after we do. I wonder when exactly did Mary know how her son would die? When did she realize what a wonderful gift to humankind his death would bring? But before all of that Jesus was a baby, born in difficult circumstances to a mother who had trusted her womb to God.

So I trust Aunt Erma’s soul to God, knowing that the pain of her death is eased by the joy of knowing where she is for eternity, and where Harold’s dad is for eternity, and all those whom have believed in the birth and death of Christ Jesus which makes it all possible.

“Death where is thy sting, grave where is thy victory?”* indeed.

*I Corinthians 15:55 KJV

Her post yesterday, “Why I Am For Life, Not Pro-Life” contains the best summation of what being for life from a Christian perspective really means. It also makes a great point on the politics of Facebook. Here is an excerpt. I encourage you to click over to her blog to read the rest of her essay and look around a while.

“To be for life means to be for reality, and reality is paradoxical, contradictory, awkward, unendingly messy, and unresolvable. To be for life means to realize that someone who is born to a junkie mother, is beaten every day of his life, sexually molested as a child, and farmed out to a series of foster families as a teenager may be in prison for another reason than that he has a “criminal mind.” To be for life means to believe that human beings are capable of transformation. To be for life implies a capacity and willingness, no matter how difficult or how much of a stretch, to put ourselves in the shoes of another. To be for life is to refrain, insofar as possible, from every kind of violence: physical, emotional, psychological, and I say this because I am (obviously) so prone to violence myself. Because to destroy your own child is a special, and perhaps the most horrific form, of violence imaginable.

To be for life means to stand your ground while also exercising delicacy, courtesy, and restraint of tongue and pen. It means to be passionately for our work and passionately against imposing our work on others. It means to refrain from trumpeting our own courage in favor of admiring the courage of the next person.  It means to be for the unborn baby and for the baby who grows up to be an alcoholic, love-starved, frightened, extremely misguided adult and has an abortion, or two, or three before at last crawling toward the light (or not)—because you never know the wounds from which another suffers. You never know the sins and sorrows for which another is doing life-long penance. You never know the odds against which another is working.”

I am so thankful that she has put into words things I have thought but not been able to put into anything coherent. So like I said, grab a cuppa and head over to Shirt of Flame. Let me know what you think. I’m betting that no matter your political or religious bent, you will learn something.

I am having to force myself to let go of some things,and maybe not care about them anymore. When I say “not care” it is not a mean thing, like “pftwww (insert spewing sound)”. This is not caring because it’s either not really mine to do or think about any more. There is also an element of turning myself away from and instead looking forward to.

I have lived in this town for over two decades and been on my job for over fifteen years. To say I have a routine doesn’t begin to describe my life. My life is in no way boring but there is a rhythm to the days, weeks, months, years that have a distinct flow. That will soon be replaced with new experiences, jobs, friends, etc.

As a bookkeeper the accounting cycle drives your duties, certain ones at certain times and certain intervals. Each week and month I am doing the last part of something and I can feel it. I mean nearly physically feel it. It’s November and time for thinking about wrapping up the year with all the duties that entails. With each little function I say an inward “Well, I won’t be doing that here again.”

As I teach my Lit classes the progression of the school year evokes those feelings also. Last week I thought, “That will be that last time I teach about Socrates here.” And so it moves on.

Last week my boss mentioned I was unusually quiet. At first I thought he was wrong but he was indeed correct. There is an inner concentration that is with me right now. I can’t explain it. Nor can it be blamed on Nat’l Novel Writing Month which I am in the throes of at the moment. All I know is that it’s a bit scary, and feels a bit like vertigo. Things are spinning around me and in order to keep my balance I must focus intently so I don’t tumble.

Prayers would be appreciated right now, or silly jokes, or dark chocolate. If I seem distant don’t worry, I don’t think I have ever been as here in the moment as I am currently. I’m just trying to be in the flow so I don’t miss the glass when the time comes.

We started the weekend off with a going away party Friday night. The celebration began with a time of worship. I must say I am so proud of my husband for actually singing the songs and not crying instead. There was a slide show where we all wondered where the time had gone. We laughed, a lot. We cried, a lot. And we ate, a lot! We were joined by our wonderful friends Doug & Denise Kreighbaum. Doug was one of the founding pastors of our church so it was wonderful to have them on hand. When my family and I got home at 12:30am I told my husband I expected for Sunday’s final good-bye to be harder than the party.

And it was indeed. I started crying at the first song. My plan had been to pace my crying (and emotions) but yeah, that didn’t happen. The Bedford’s have been here 16 years & we’ve been here 20. Harold & I have served alongside Tom & Andrea through good times and horrendous times. And we will be joining them in a few months in Fresno to help Bread of Life Church. Somehow I thought this fact would help me through the goodbyes. But the memories were too overwhelming.

My favorite memory that pretty much sums up our personal and pastoral relationship with Tom occurred four years ago.

 Evan woke up Saturday morning at 5:30 with chills that rapidly turned into vomiting & a high temp. … The doc wanted Ev to immediately go to our local ER. We jumped in the car & got Ev there right away. Fortunately our good friend, Dr. Jerry was the ER doc that day. After a preliminary exam it was apparent that Ev’s blood pressure was decreasing rapidly & his heart rate was rising. We were told that he was in septic shock, which means that there was a system wide infection in his body. HIs body was working hard to keep his major organs functioning. The doc’s in the Big City pulled together a team & flew to our town to get Evan & fly him back to Children’s Hospital. Our friend & pastor, Tom, stayed with Evan at our local ER until the team got to our town. (What I didn’t mention was that Tom stayed with Evan from the ER until he was loaded on the life flight. We found this out later) We got in the car to make the 4 hour drive, hoping to get to Children’s before Evan. He has been in ICU since Saturday evening.”  (You can read more here)

So on the worst day of our life, the one where our only child nearly died, Tom was there, willing to stay with Evan until he either took his last breath or got on the life flight. If Evan had died holding Tom’s hand & not ours there would have been no one else who we would have wanted there.  Fortunately for all of us that did not happen.

We made it through Sunday and I have to say that while all of us at Life Church will miss the Bedford’s we are also excited for their next day in Fresno and our next day here.  I am very grateful that my family and I get to be here for a while longer, helping anyway we can as our local body and leaders step into the next adventure God has for us.

So off they go with the love and blessing of a very grateful church.