WOW! ANOTHER BIRTHDAY!

On my desk, perched to the left of my laptop is one of those clever cliches, rather glib I think.  It says, "YOUTH IS A GIFT. AGE IS AN ART."

Before I go off, waxing the incredible wisdom that I have gleaned from living so many years, just let me say,

I'm still working on the "AGE IS AN ART" part.

Birthdays usually trigger me into contemplative moods. In my imagination, I visualize my life as  a room full of many doors -- doors that have opened in the past, and I have walked through them or doors that have been shut and I ignored the obvious, and blasted right through them anyway.  But --

There are doors that are still standing open, right now one in particular.  And I am tiptoeing around the threshold, hesitating to commit to the dance, one foot in, and then, whoa, one foot out.   Kind of like the two-step at my sixth-grade box social. Not fully committed to walking through.

 But I do know this much.

On this birthday, I am truly grateful.  Exuberantly, extraordinarily and exactingly GRATEFUL! Is it because I am old or because I am a writer, all three adjectives mean something special?  You dear reader can decide.

Exuberantly thankful! For my love of eating! Smelling the aromas of homemade bread and white cake wafting from the oven, and mouth-watering plumes of barbecue smoke from steaks and ribs on the grill.  The joy of crunching into corn on the cob dripping in butter, a vine-ripened Iowa tomato bursting with flavor only heat and humidity can produce (my Midwest roots) and finally, who can pass up a plate of steaming pasta piled on a plate with homemade marinara sauce,  grated garlic and Parmesan cheese melting on top?

For music!  All kinds.  Cranked up.  Lots of drums! Cellos yes!  Dancing in my living-room in my sweats, barefooted, no make-up, and my dog howling at the top of his lungs, thinking it is one big game!

For good books! Curled up. In my favorite chair, hot Irish breakfast tea, cat on my lap, journals and a book close by. I call it exuberant peace. Do I scoot out of my chair onto my knees with prayers of gratitude?  Often.  Very often.

Next --EXTRAORDINARILY!

Extraordinarily humbled by my marriage to Brian. God has brought us through!  The fruit?  So much, but for us, talking and listening and learning how to do both -- has been a constant. Used to be over a beer, but now? A cup of  his freshly-brewed coffee in the comfort of Saturday mornings, talking as only people the same age and married 36 years can share. Deep, superficial, laughing, crying, praying, sometimes all at once.  We ponder often these days -- what life at our age should look like? What is God doing in our lives?  What should we be doing in His?  (And, really, is it the same thing?) Is the next house project worth the energy?  Did the dog just run right through our new patio screen door!!??  Shall we go out for ice cream like NOW!?

Extraordinarily thankful that I could be a mother when I wasn't sure whether my body was up to it.  Even more grateful that I birthed a kid that I not only loved, but that I liked. Tony shares the family bonding agent -- humor. Laughter with him, always!   He has surpassed his mother in cooking skills. Cooking with him is a joy -- letting him cook and then eating the deluge of texture and goodness that he prepares is even more of a delight.  Grateful I can be a part of his journey and watch him navigate the complex challenges he faces as a young man.   I learn from his journey, oh boy, do I learn.

Extraordinarily sobered is truly the word  that comes to mind as I ponder the deep colors of my friendships. The fine workings, the sometimes rugged terrain, the peaceful oases, the fight, the companionship of love, pain, confusion, despair, and hope which I experience with people who truly share their hearts and lives with me takes my breath away at times. Some are kindred spirits, others walk their own journey though they don't share my beliefs, but they honor me anyway.  And I, honor them.

A special hug to my inner circle.  You know who you are. And my life is enriched because you are my family, because I need you, and you need me.  A circle of unending love -- it pours in from places in our hearts where we expect it to come -- but it also surprises us when wow! God takes us into unexpected treasure troves to bless us one to another.

To my mentors, those who guard me in prayer, and keep me on the path where I belong -- I must make special mention.  Dr. Virginia Phillips, Dr. Mark Strong, Pastor Marla Strong, Pastors Bernis and Betty Dorsey, and the dear one I just lost, Lottie Thurman. To you all, well, there are no words strong enough.  Thank you from my heart.

And finally, we come to Exactingly Grateful.  Interesting adjective, and perhaps one that is a little puzzling. This is the threshold of the door(s) I'm afraid to cross. A scary place. Hesitant, fear, and insecurity follow me here.  I've been here many times -- as an awkward sixth-grader at my first dance, a teenager shaking in the wings as I await my turn in a state competition, in pain as my first love told me he was in love with someone else, devastated as I pulled a D in my first college exam, after studying forever, scared as a new wife, and a new mother, and leveled at the loss suffered in both of those roles. So, have I earned the right to be hesitant?

As I practice Exacting Gratitude, I understand from the past, that I've passed those thresholds of "scary" before.  They are guideposts of where I've been, because by the grace of the good Lord, I have purposed, EXACTED myself on the path that Jesus has already laid for me. For every fear and battle scar,  there is restoration and reconciliation. Where there is mystery and fear and insecurity, there is opportunity to stand, to have more courage, and to walk from shaking to assurance.

I am not exempted from the journey because I am old.  I must exact myself in new disciplines (love to walk as much as I love to eat!), learn new levels of my gift (I DID after all give up my good old Royal typewriter), and position myself to surrender.  Reads easy, works hard.

Can I say I am no longer scared?

No, but I can say this --

I am no longer a sixth-grader doing the two-step at a box social.

I am an adult, replete with the richness of my own life lived sometimes with success, sometimes with failure, and sometimes with everything in- between.  I am alive, kicking, moving along, singing a song, eyes wide-open.

So, I ask myself, is this what "AGE IS AN ART "means?

We'll see!

I have my dancing shoes on, and I hear music just beyond that threshold.

Happy Birthday to me!















































   

GOOD-BYE MY KITCHEN TABLE FRIEND -- Lottie Thurman March 16, 1936 - May 20, 2017

Good friends are precious gifts from God.  As I grow older, so does my gratitude for those closest to me. And as I say good-bye to this dear one with whom I have shared so much, again I am aware –

That intimacy takes time and effort.  At times sweat and tears.

Sometimes those efforts and blessings are accomplished over years.  Other times, God plants people in our path, allowing the Holy Spirit to do not only a “fast work” but,

A “deep work.”

In my life – Lottie Thurman fell in the latter camp.

I only knew her for 7 years.  We accomplished much in those 7.  We prayed together on Wednesdays as a general rule, but prayer time for us was an adventure.  We could count on it!!

And, it was always done at Lottie’s large solid oak table. Chattering began as soon as I crossed over the threshold of her front door, often dashing to her bathroom to relieve my “aging bladder.”  Didn’t distract our line of sharing the week’s events one whit – I cracked the bathroom door and we talked and chuckled even as I sat on the throne.  Nothing was outside the purview of discussion.  Obama vs. Bush, war versus peace, barbecue versus well – no discussion

.

 Our Wednesdays started with talking about our week, our general condition, what we were cooking, how smoothly life was going (or not), the garbage man out front, the neighbor renovating the house across her street, the new woman who moved in next to me, and where were we going for lunch?

 We hung out on the front porch in the summer, cackling and howling with laughter, often, -- just because.  Because it was a joy to be together.  Often in restaurants people would approach us and ask if we were related to one another – another woman came up after an event we had attended and said, “You two are having so much fun, have you known each other all of your lives?” Once when we were waiting in a doctor’s office, a woman also waiting beside us said, “You act like best-friend sisters!” Lottie, of course did not miss a beat, “We are sisters!!  Sisters in the Lord Jesus Christ!”

 For those who don’t know.  Lottie Thurman was a black woman, born in Marks, Mississippi to sharecroppers, who married a military man,  birthed four boys, was widowed, and went on to become a registered nurse, and also earned several other degrees enabling her to serve as a school nurse for 27 years in Dayton, Ohio. In 2003 she came to Portland, OR, whereupon she immersed herself into life in the Pacific Northwest, which included in a big way, Life Change Church.

And for those who probably might know, I am a white woman, born in Chicago, Illinois, raised and educated in the Midwest until I came to Portland, OR in 1976. I am twice married, birthed one son, lost a stepson, and earned a degree in Journalism. Though writing always was a part of my life in some fashion, I never held a job for more than seven years, and began attending Life Change Church in 2009.

In short, we were from different cultures, had vastly varied experiences, and yet –

People viewed us as sisters.  I have my own view of why that was true.  Fun and everyday life we shared; but prayer truly was the bond.

Lottie enjoyed life.  But in everything, with everything, and through everything, God stood strong in the center.  She was an intercessor at the very core of who she was.  And as a fellow intercessor, I enjoyed partnering with her, learning from her, and watching with her. 

As a fellow intercessor, I would be truly remiss if I did not speak about my joy of interceding with Lottie, and her joy as being an intercessor!  As with any intimate relationship, conversation and connection is key.  And so it is with prayer.  Lottie knew how to connect, how to listen, with God and with other people.

And,

They knew it.  Part and parcel of who she was, a light shining on a hill, people came to her to depend, and partake, of her light through who she was, and how she prayed.  I was no different, and as we partnered in prayer, God was faithful to us as a team, and as sisters, one to another.  We learned much about love – we went to the mat with those things we felt strongly about—mostly culture and politics, and when neither of us backed down, we took a deep breath, walked about the house, and sat back down to either work through the matter at hand, or to agree to disagree.

 

But prayer always followed.  Always. 

And God always answered.  Always.

Good-bye my friend.  Good-bye.  I will revel in seeing you on the other side.