This Reminds Me

Archive for the ‘Faith’ Category

We had plans for this Father’s Day weekend.

Our dear family friend Jean was coming to visit.  Jean was at the hospital the day I was born and holds in place in my heart like no other.  She arrived a-okay and that – at least – went according to plan.

Jean and me today.  She’s recently moved to Mexico and – at age 87 – is learning Spanish so she can minister to those near her.  We spent part of yesterday afternoon in search of new walking shoes because she doesn’t use a car in her community.  Why exactly do I whine about church committee meetings and having to drag myself through Costco?

Part of our plan was for Keith, Lois, Hannah and Julia to go visit Rachel yesterday at Highland Lakes, the summer camp at which she’s working. Keith – knowing her passion for all things tie-dyed – bought white T-shirts and fresh color kits so they could create custom shirts to wear for the visit.   They did get to go – that part of the plan went well.

Me thinks she was surprised when she opened the door and saw their tie-dyed shirts.  They brought two new ones for her, too.

They spent the day together messing around Austin.  Keith planned to leave by 7 p.m., but here’s where the plan crumbled.

Highland Lakes is gorgeous.  And Rachel was in no hurry for them to go.  So they tramped around until 9 p.m.

Mighty pretty scenery!  Julia – 11; Lois – 17; Rachel – 20; Hannah – 15

In the meantime, Hannah got a email.  If she wanted to volunteer the next few days at Girl Scout camp – which she did – she needed to be there by 1 p.m. today (Sunday.)  If we had known that earlier, Keith and the girls definitely would have left Highland Lakes earlier.

They got home after 11 p.m. last night.  Hannah had to get packed for camp.  Keith had to leave with her by noon today.  So —–

      We didn’t eat breakfast together.  Oh, sure, I made Keith’s favorite quiche, but he and Hannah were up late getting her somewhat ready so they slept late. 

      We didn’t go to church together.  Hannah and Keith stayed home – she to finish packing, him to get lunch ready so he could leave by noon.  This was particularly disappointing.   He missed (the most excellent) Father’s Day sermon, plus acknowledgement with the other fathers by the congregation.

      He had to rush opening his gifts after lunch.

It occurred to me that while we had plans for Father’s Day that were derailed – they were changed only because Keith is a real father.  He wanted to visit his eldest child and surprise her with tie-dyed shirts for the whole family – neat!  They stayed longer than expected because Rachel didn’t want them to leave – sure.   He stayed up with Hannah last night, then shepherded her this morning – fine.  He made lunch for all of us so we could hurriedly eat and he could transport Hannah – uhhh, okay.

So instead of getting fussed over all day today – Keith spent most of it ensuring his family had what he wanted them to have.

Happy Father’s Day to the man who knows that his children replace our ”plans” in any equation for celebration.

This week I shared a picture of myself with a co-worker I’ve never met.  After months of casual contact, we were getting better acquainted.

I shared one Rachel took Sunday of Julia and me in the church parking lot.

Rachel always takes better pictures than do I, even though I shoot a Nikon and she generally uses her iPod.  Sigh.

My co-worker’s comment on the picture?  “She (Julia) looks just like you.”

I didn’t tell her Julia was adopted.

I think as an adult, Julia is going to be what my grandmother called a “handsome woman.”  Not frilly, not fru-fru, but “handsome.”  She has the most incredibly beautiful tanned skin, dark brown hair with individual gold strands and a lithe athlete’s body.  Her eyes have a small slant that intrigues me.  I can’t take credit for a bit of that.

Rachel, Lois Hannah and I do look alike – or so I’ve been told.

Here are the girls on Easter Sunday -

Lois – 17; Hannah – 15; Rachel – 19; Julia – 11

And me at age 17 .  I’ve supplied half of the gene pool in which Rachel, Lois and Hannah swim.  Can you tell?

I was flattered my co-worker thinks Julia and I look alike.

But what I really want for my girls is not that anyone looks at them and sees me. I don’t want them to see impatience, fatigue and such limited understanding.

I want for them what the Apostle Paul spelled out in 2 Corinthians 3:18. I want people to look at my girls and see Jesus.

I want them to look like their real Maker.

Then I can try to look like them.

Our church presented the “Living Last Supper” last night, and will do so again tonight.  If you hurry, you can just make it.

If Peter – the big fisherman – looks familiar, there may be a reason.

No dying his hair this year.  Our worship reminded all that the original Peter was more “seasoned” than the other 11 apostles, therefore, this modern-day enactment should reflect that age definition.   So Keith went the natural salt’n'pepper look.  We’re proud of you, Keith!  And Phil, Bill, Rodger, Brad, Travis, Jeff, Jason, Ray, Jon, Zachary, Daniel, Wade, Chris, Brian, Jonathan and Kyle.

Seventeen-year-old Lois gave her first blood donation (at church) today, following a family tradition.  Keith’s donations are approaching 10 gallons*, and Rachel’s given three times.  When I was single, I gave platelets every three – four weeks, and was a regular blood donor until my irregular heart beat tom-tom’ed “No-No,  More-More, No-No, More-More.”

Interestingly – Lois has the same tiny veins that plagued my mother, and now me.  Three or four sticks is the norm, usually by more than one phlebotomist.   Unlike me, Lois is apparently a “squirter,” which accounted for her nickname today of “Squirtle.”   Step back!

What pleased me so about this donation:  Lois and I are transfusion recipients.   I got three units the day she was born prematurely, and she got red blood cells when she was about a month old.   That red blood cell transfusion enabled her oxygen saturation rate to climb enough to come home after 37 days in the NICU.

Christmas Eve 1993 – And preemie Lois 26 days old and still in the NICU.  I might look a little tired.  Sarah came over every evening to stay with two-year-old Rachel so Keith and I could visit the hospital.  We could gently rub her little stick legs, speak soothingly and watch her oxygen saturation rates climb.  No one else’s voice had the same effect. My mom often took me during the day for another visit, and I’d sing to Lois.  Keith joked she’d know the entire Baptist hymnal by the time she came home.

Blood donations are not only the gift of life, but also a gift from life.   There’s no substitute for whole blood, and it takes a human being to give it.  It’s a sacrifice, and one especially poignant in the Easter season.

I’ve long believed that what goes around, comes around – whether in this life, or the one to come.   And while some debts cannot be repaid exactly, they can be “paid forward.”

I pray my girls keep paying.

*Keith’s donor mug from the Blood Center in Houston caught my eye the first time I visited his house.  How refreshing it was to date a guy who wasn’t all about himself.  Single guys – Blood donations are chick magnets!