Cherish every moment

I really felt led to sit down and watch a movie tonight.  By myself.  I thought I'd watch a silly Christmas movie.  I was right, but also wrong.

I love Christmas, and Christmas movies, and even silly Christmas movies.  Christmas movie: Disney's Christmas Carol (the motion capture one with Jim Carrey).  Silly Christmas movie: anything about dogs or animals, or made by ABC Family or Lifetime.  I've watched a few in that latter category, though, and found myself surprisingly heart-warmed.

Tonight, I did not know what I was in for.  I saw that this movie had Candace Cameron Bure in it, so I figured it had some kind of meaningful message to it, and I noticed that the film was sponsored by St. Jude's Children's Research Hospital.  I guess I thought the sponsorship was in the "laughter is the best medicine" vein.  I suppose somehow... but nevermind what I thought.

This morning I was reading in Beth Moore's Esther study abot peripety; that moment upon which everything else in the story hinges.  It's the dramatic shift - I remember from AP English the term "peripateia," which is when the tragic hero would come to his/her downfall.  Peripety is now always bad, though; sometimes it's just the turning point.

The movie I watched tonight featured one of those defining moments in the life of a real family, because it was based on true events.  It is a Christmas movie only because it ends at Christmas in a very surprisingly and loving way.  It is about a real family, the Lockes, who discovered that their little boy had leukemia.  They fought with him for an entire year at St. Jude's, and then when the doctors could do no more for him, they brought him home.  Knowing he would not live to see another Christmas, the neighborhood decorated and celebrated Christmas for the Lockes on Halloween.

What caused me to ache so much was watching the family go through the ups and downs - hearing a good report, then receiving another blow, then letting go.  The actress portrayed this whole process with grace as well as grief.  All inspired-by movies simplify things, of course.  The story was told through her eyes, but I wanted to know more about what went on behind them.  In the end, what the mother, Julie Locke, realized, was that life is uncertain, and that it is also a gift.  She prayed Psalm 90:12, "Teach us to number our days aright, that we may present to Thee a heart of wisdom."  Her motto, "Cherish Every Moment," inspired readers of her blog (which began through Caring Bridge, which is one of the best support coordination tools ever).

So their story had a double peripety: first the total shock of living a nightmare of hospitals, sickness, and children dying before their parents.  Even before they lost Dax, their lives abruptly shifted into the world of medicine, procedures, probabilities, testing, and, if I can say it, the world of weird.  The world where the lifestyle is something no advertisement in a magazine accurately represents because it is so unique, and so undesirable that it can't be used to sell products.  Yet, there was a product: the inspiration that is born from desperation and suffering, when one person says, "This is where I've been, and this is what I know."  The Locke family now strives to raise money for St. Jude's, and their story is a testament to the realization of life's value.

I've never wept so much, so unexpectedly, at a movie.  I let myself go.  It mattered that the little boy looked like Stefan.  Maybe this is a peripety for me; it certainly struck a nerve.  I could go on and on if it weren't getting late and I wasn't already worn out from crying.  How difficult to even end a note about a movie about a family who suffered through such a battle.  What grace they were given by the Lord, and what love and was shown through their friends and family who reached out to their family during their 18 months of hospitalization.  What grace they gave me by sharing their story.

It reminds me of the very reason I started this blog.  The motto, "because life and lyrics mean so much" came from my love of songs and, in particular, Chris Rice's "Life Means so Much," the refrain of which is a paraphrase of Psalm 90:12.  Heading into the Christmas season, and beyond, what Dax's story reminds me is that life is a gift, to be lived on purpose.  I am convicted about my fretfulness, busy-ness, and missing-the-forest-for-the-trees-ness.  This season of striving for healing, for wisdom from the Lord, has tendered my soul so much to the issues that were represented in The Heart of Christmas, so I know not everyone will respond to it the same way.  If you have Netflix, and are able, I would say it is a beneficial movie to watch, because at the very least it tune your heart to be thankful for blessings you take for granted.

Even if he does not

Right off the heels of a revelation of God's blessing, a spiritually intense - and potentially rewarding - season follows.  I have begun to pray and fast for Stefan and also for clarity on whatever else the Lord may choose to shed light.  So far, what has happened is that the Lord has led me to a verse to pray or meditate upon for my little boy, as well as for my faith.

Today's blessing was from Habakkuk.  Of all unlikely places to end up this morning, I was there, glancing over most of it after a Bible lesson on patience and timing.  These verses from Habakkuk 3 were part of my wedding vows to Scott.

¹⁷ Though the fig tree does not bud
    and there are no grapes on the vines,
though the olive crop fails
    and the fields produce no food,
though there are no sheep in the pen
    and no cattle in the stalls,
¹⁸ yet I will rejoice in the Lord,
    I will be joyful in God my Savior.

I sort of forgot about those verses until we were on our way home from a playdate.  It really had been a good morning, but toward the end Stefan started throwing fits, and then I got a parking ticket.  It was one of those situations where I was walking up as they were giving me they ticket.  They got some feedback from me.  It was ugly.  I cried from the frustration of the fits and the near-miss at getting the ticket. 

I prayed, and thought about it, and then was kind of okay.  Oh, I'll still try to appeal the ticket.  I think the fine is outrageous.  I'll probably still have to pay, but I gotta speak up.

More importantly (and kind of surprisingly for me to get spiritual about such things) I remembered these verses as I drove.  Okay, so what if I don't have a perfect morning?  What if Stefan still has fits sometimes, and we have to work through it.  Or bigger - I asked myself, "What if God doesn't...?"  What if what I want and what I get are very, very different?  I remembered the three Hebrews who proclaimed to Nebuchadnezzar that their God had power to save them, but even if he did not, they would not bow.  I remember a quote I read a few weeks ago and shared with some friends, "The enemy will always threaten us with what we fear if our faith is conditional." 

My fears often take the form of "What if?" statements.  I realize I need to turn my "What if's?" Into, "Then, God."  I can't deny the situation or bargain with God - I have to trust.  That's what Habakkuk is testifying here - If... then, God.

This has been my story for a long, long time; I may not always share about the lifeless trees and stunted buds, desolate fields and missing livestock.  I need to learn to be more honest about such things; more transparent.  When I fail to be so, it is partly because it is just so uncomfortable for me to share about, and partly because of this commitment, in feast or fallow, to "be joyful in God my Savior," trusting in God's future grace.  Whatever comes... God.

Witness to Thy great faithfulness, mercy, and love

A few things came together for me this morning. It started last night with the funny feeling that there would be a lot to look forward to today.  Then, I got to go for a walk this morning, and was thinking about God's great faithfulness on display in every season.  "He leads me beside quiet waters" reverberated in my mind as I walked around the lake.

Then, I remembered how that it was through those words that teh Lord led us to our neighborhood, which led me to realize that today was the anniversary of the date when we first rolled into Sahuarita, Kyrstin and I, at 2 A.M.

And I realized what I was going to do with those flat-shaped white pumpkins I'd bought at the grocery store that morning for $1, and I laughed.

I'd been reading a fictionalalized account of the Israelites crossing the Jordan river, after which they erected a monument of stones collected from the dry riverbed according to God's command.  It was to be a visual reminder for generations to come of the miracle that had allowed their nation to come into the land God had promised them.  I wanted to make a monument, but why, and how?

Thus the laugh.  I decided somehow to make the flat pumpkins into a memorial.  I'm sure there are a lot of different ways to do it.  I thought of several, but only had a few minutes to execute it, so this is what I did.

In the Biblical account, the heads of each of the tribues carry a boulder, so I decided to attach an identity to each of these tokens as well.  I simply painted our names and a simple design on each.  I can use them to tell my kids a story in the future.  Here is the story I would tell about this year.

Stefan has grown and improved so much in behavior and ability.  We are thankful every day, and we are praying and seeking remedies.  Kyrstin has become more calm and loving, and has developed a love of learning.  I painted flowers on mine that kind of also look like butterflies.  For me, the best thing has been a renewed sense of God's word being living and active in me and my family, and to have some friendships beginning to bloom in this desert.  Scott has been active in the church worship ministry.  

Those are blessings all mine, and the ten thousand beside will have to wait because it is late and I need to go to bed!  I am very glad that we are entering into a season of thankfulness so that there will be time to focus on all of God's good and precious gifts.

For today, this is my anthem, this is my song.