Falling Leaves

There’s a big beautiful tree in our front yard. It provides great shade from the summer sun and every fall turns bright yellow. Every time I round the corner towards home it’s there to greet me and I marvel at its brilliance. 

But as fall lingers on, I’m acutely aware, with each falling leaf its beauty is fading.

It reminds me of Mom.

Alzheimer’s is like a tree in autumn. It starts slowly, almost imperceptibly. The greens begin to fade and shift to yellow, red and brown… then the leaves begin to fall.  

The person you love begins to fall away. Confidence drops off, then wisdom and grace. They are left with barren branches of anxiety and fear.

Sometimes the wind blows and memories cascade away suddenly, rapidly and uncontrollably. They are just gone, blown away, with no hope of returning them to their place.

Because of my life I've seen her rarely the past 12 years, returning every other year to find huge holes where beauty used to be. I can't imagine the pain for my dad and sister, helplessly watching the daily assault.

I think if you care for someone with Alzheimer's every now and then you need to rake their memories into a pile with friends. Jump into them. Spend a day rolling around in them. Remembering, laughing and weeping together. They have lost their leaves, but you can still enjoy them. 

Autumn has lasted too long, and I know she’s nearly into winter. But after winter comes spring, when she will be made new, complete and whole again. I long for that day for her. I pray for it.

And one day, I will turn the corner towards home and she will be there, vibrant and full of life. I will marvel at her brilliance and she will welcome me home. 

Silencing the Voices

A friend recently told me about a guy who drinks beer with his brother every Friday night. They wake up Saturday morning and ask, “What’s your blood alcohol level?” The other responds, “Feels a little low.” And they start again and on into Sunday.

My friend shook his head and asked, “Why would someone want to live like that?”

The short answer is, to stop the voices.

We spend all day filling our lives with noise. We connect to email, internet, phone, TV, Ipod and sometimes even each other. We live with input from morning until night. So when our heads hits the pillow it’s the first time for quiet.

That’s when the voices start. They pick at our failures, flaws and insecurities. They berate and belittle until we fight our way to sleep.

A lot of the world self medicates so they don’t have to listen to those voices.

But in the middle of all the doubt and self loathing there is one quiet whisper who says, “Who cares?”

“Who cares about your failures or insecurities? I created you, know you and pursue you every day. I lived for you, died for you and ransomed you with my life. You are precious to me. Priceless to me. You are mine. You are loved, failures, flaws and all. Rest.”

There is real relief from the voices. It's not found in a glass or a pill. It’s found in forgiveness. And it’s free.  

Chocolate Labs

A friend recently asked if we could watch his dog. It’s a big chocolate lab, grown but still young. If I throw a ball a hundred times he’ll get it a hundred times and look at me with the same expectant face on every return.

He’s trots around, oblivious to the world around him. His big body bumps into things and his tail wags ferociously, clearing figurines from shelves and knocking down small children.

He’s also totally unaware of Abby. Our dog has been perfectly happy being an only child and he’s ruining it. He’s bigger, faster and stronger and it freaks her out. She sits in the corner of the room, glares at him and growls when he gets too close.

She’s a bundle of nerves and he’s bouncing around grabbing her toys, licking people and knocking over furniture.

We all know people like this, don’t we? People who bounce through life, totally unaware of the wake of destruction they leave behind them. Maybe we've worked for him. The guy who pops his head in your office, utters a decree then trots down the hall happily, while your day lies in ruins.

Maybe it’s a friend who allows her chaos to enter your life. She shows up only when she needs something, only when she’s made a shambles of things again, only to drain you.

Maybe it’s a family member. Your parent who calls and always seems to have the right offhanded comment to make you feel small… again.

We all know these people. With just a few words, they leave us feeling shattered.

But what’s hard to see is, sometimes we are that person. Because we think the best of our motivations, we don’t realize how our comments and actions may be impacting others, our coworkers, our friends, our family.

The next time someone growls and snaps at you, instead of snapping back, take some time to question why. Maybe the “old dog” is threatened by your presence. Maybe what you considered to be “gentle teasing” wasn't received that way. Maybe your comments have opened old wounds.

It’s easy to see in others, but we need to realize, sometimes we’re the chocolate lab. 

Learning to Love

Abby is our dog. She’s a rescue, so we THINK she’s a lab/pit bull mix. She’s playful, full of energy, cuddly and a bit neurotic so she fits well into the family.

She’s two and like all labs still full of puppy. When I come home from work, she acts like I’m a soldier returning from war, wags her whole body, runs and jumps on me.  If a dog can love, she loves me and wants to show me.

Abby loves to jump. She gets excited, wants to be close to me and jumping is what comes naturally. It’s what feels right to her.

But I can’t have her doing it. She loves kids and kids love her, but she is so big and strong she would really hurt one with her “love.” She needs to learn not to jump.

People are the same way. Because of how we are wired, events in our past, insecurities, selfishness or an unmet need, we love poorly. Sometimes even in ways that hurt others.

We engage with people, our coworkers, friends, family, spouse in ways that feel right to us. But what feels right to us, many times, isn't loving.

Many times, when I hug Nancy, I do it not because I think she needs a hug, but because I need one. So while a hug is a loving gesture, it is really about me.

Nancy is more likely to feel loved if I fix the ceiling in the kitchen. It’s not that she doesn’t like hugs, it’s that she needs me to fix the ceiling and that stuff means something to her. It makes her feel cared for.

I had to learn that. It’s not something I could deduce by looking at her. I had to spend time with her, get to know her, invest in her, then choose to love her. Love her the way she receives it, not the way I do.

Love has to be learned before it can be practiced. Otherwise it’s not love at all. Here is lesson one.  

God Revealed in Fantasy Football

Twelve years ago, ten guys missing U.S. football, got together and formed the Quito Fantasy Football League. The QFFL has now expanded to twelve teams and none of us are in Ecuador anymore.

With everyone working in missions or the military we've spread out. We've had guys in Ecuador, Singapore, Austria, Afghanistan, Djibouti and even the U.S. I've been the league's whipping boy for most of that time, though I did win the championship in 2006 and went 14-2 last season (not that I’m keeping track).

Each August we gather together around our computers and pick our favorite players… or the ones we hate but can’t pass up.

This year, at the end of draft night, while others were researching which of the players ranked in the 190^’s would be the better selection, I took two seconds to make my last pick... the Kansas City Defense.

KC was ranked 22^nd on draft night and not expected to do much this year. Six games into the season they are averaging 16 points a game. SIX-TEEN! 

To put that in perspective for the uninitiated, it would be like applying for a part time job, expecting minimum wage and being offered full time work at $120K a year.

When I saw that today it hit me, fantasy football is like God. Each year, some no name from nowhere, that someone picked by accident, has a great year.

Paul tells us in Romans that God uses the foolish things to shame the wise. I work with and connect some brilliant folks in missions. What’s also true is we are some of the most broken, raggedy, and just plain weird people on the planet. And sometimes we're even sinful. Yet somehow God is glorified.

You see he picks people, like a little Albanian girl and sends them to places like India so they can change the world. He continues to baffle us with his ability to use the unimpressive. Why? So no one will mistake who is really responsible.

I've been wondering how fantasy football could draw me closer to Jesus. I've finally found him, displayed as a second rate defense, picked last and overachieving. 

I'm Not a Servant

Nancy has the gift of service. It oozes from her. It’s part of what makes her a good wife, mom, nurse and hostess of whatever function happens to be running. Acts of service is her love language. My love language sucks.

I don’t have the gift of service. Marcus and I saw a little old lady, struggling to get a big box in the back of her van in the rain. I looked at her and thought, “Bless her heart, that’s a big box. I hope she can get it in there.” Marcus put the box in the van.

It’s great to be married to someone who loves service because they… serve. The problem is, if you aren’t careful, you take it for granted.  The dishes get washed, the laundry gets done… it just happens. It’s awesome!

I was lying in bed one evening in Ecuador just before our annual beach vacation. I was trying to chill out and watch TV for a bit before going to sleep, but Nancy kept walking back and forth in front of the screen. I finally said, “Honey, why don’t sit down and watch TV with me?”

Her reply, “Because I’m trying to pack everything you think magically shows up at the beach every year.”

Oh…

The problem is it doesn’t matter if it’s our natural bent or not, we are all called to serve. Christ’s last act with his guys before he went to the cross was to wash their feet. It was not some offhanded gesture, but an intentional act of instruction.

No where is this more important than in a marriage. It’s a partnership that requires both parties to be fully invested. Both need to fully serve. Nancy is a great example… I still have a bit to learn.

Insecurity

I’m at a conference this week. I’m pretty spoiled because Nancy usually travels with me, but for the first time in a pretty long time, I’m on my own.

I showed up at the retreat center and they didn’t have my registration. I started thinking I had come to the wrong place. Was there another Pastors to Missionaries conference in North Carolina this week?

We got it sorted out and they gave me a map to the grounds, pointed out my building and highlighted the rout to my parking area. I looked at the map, started to drive. Stopped, looked at the map again, then drove a little further.

It’s not downtown Chicago or anything, there was only one road, but I kept questioning if I was in the right spot.

I found my building, got my suitcase and backpack and started across the parking lot, but the building had the wrong name. So I wandered back to the car and looked at the map again. I had to be in the right place.

I looked around to see if anyone was watching then wandered back to the building to peek inside. For some strange reason, the place has two names; one for where people sleep and one for the theater on the bottom floor.

I found my room and was all stressed out.

Coming into the week I knew I would be out of my element, surrounded by people I don’t know, many who have much more experience than me and who always say things like, “Have you read…”  Um, no I haven’t.  “Of course you know…”  Um, no I don’t.

I wondered where all of the insecurity was coming from. Then I realized, Nancy isn’t with me.

When she’s with me, I have more confidence. I can own a room, I can take more risks, act without fear, speak more boldly. Basically, when she’s with me, I’m not afraid to fail.

Why? Because there is someone there who loves me and believes in me. I’ve embarrassed myself in front of her countless times and she hasn’t run away.

A good friend is a gift. It doesn’t have to be a spouse. There are guys I could have made this trip with as well. But there is something about having someone who loves you unconditionally, that empowers you. No matter, what, you’re not alone.

We all need that person. More importantly, we need to be that person for someone else. Who feels empowered when you are in the room?

Change is Constant and a Constant in Change

We've had a lot of folks in transition in HCJB Global over the past several years.

In an effort to be more effective in ministry, we've had to change. Circumstances in Ecuador have shifted and it’s forced us to change.

With the largest grouping of our staff in that area, it’s made for some uncomfortable years.

The largest nongovernmental radio station in the world was downsized to a local broadcaster and the hospital we have owned and operated for years is being sold.

It would take too long to go into all of the reasons, here but I would be happy to fill you in, if you ask for them.

The transitions needed to happen. The decision to make them was a good decision. But even if the decisions are good and even if I agree with them, it can be hard.

We have missionaries who have invested the best part of their lives there. Thirty years of ministry filled with love, pain, joy and sacrifice.

At a time when some would be in their prime “earning potential” years, they are instead being asked to start over.

A couple of years ago HCJB Global celebrated 80 years of ministry. People came from all over the world for the celebration and much of this transition was discussed.

I remember seeing one of our old former missionary ladies from Europe. She was probably 150 years old and arrived in Ecuador, right after the conquistadors.

She was staring off in space and seemed to be reminiscing. I was worried that she might be upset about all of the radical changes. Much of what she had helped build, was now being dismantled.

I approached her and said something like, “Lots of changes, huh?”

She looked at me a bit bewildered and said, “Everything changes. Change is a part of life. You can’t stop change.”

Then her eyes glistened as she said, “But God’s Word is eternal! And his Word is being proclaimed around the world. It’s wonderful!”

I’ll never forget that conversation. In a world full of change it grounds me to a constant. The Word is alive and active in our every changing world. It’s beautiful.