“May God go with you.” (…continued)

As Thelma and I slowly continued on up the paved dune searching for Jack, she began telling stories. “I’ve rescued a lot of dogs from shelters. Most of ‘em look pretty good after a thorough scrubbing.”

Although we didn’t see Jack, we did see the car he’d followed, parked in front of one of the high-up cottages. If we couldn’t find him, I would double back and check there.

Continuing around several curves, we began moving down and eventually came to the spot where Jack had become confused. There he was, standing in the rain as if to say, “I was here. Where were you?”

Panting from his long loop up the road and down again, he gratefully hopped into the back seat, immediately leaning forward to get sniff-acquainted with Thelma. His tail wagged enthusiastically, and reaching back to pat his head, she said, “I told you. Dogs love me.”

Heading out of the subdivision, I listened to her describe how she liked helping people clean up their yards, saying it took her many sessions to complete one. “You gotta work on ‘em slow and steady. There’s too many leaves for one time.” She listed the names of those she’d already raked, and I recognized many of them.

Driving out into the country I said, “You’ll have to tell me which way to go.”

“Just keep on goin’,” she said, pointing out the front windshield.

Sure enough, about 6 miles inland from Lake Michigan she finally said, “There,” pointing to a small wooden house. “That’s where I live.”

As she got out of the car I rolled down the window, letting the rain pour in. She thanked me and nodded toward the house. “It’s adequate. More important, it was built with love. God has always taken good care of me.”

She patted the wet car as she walked alongside it, probably for support, and then turned around and said, “God go with you.”

I waited in the driveway to be sure she would get in, but she was playing a waiting game, too, making sure I backed out safely. As we both looked at each other, her hand on the doorknob and mine on the steering wheel, it was as if God said, “I love Thelma. Make sure you do, too.”

Eventually I waved through my open window and backed away, praying the prayer I so often pray: “Lord, what do you want me to think about all this?”

And he gave me this thought: “Think about how Thelma trusts me to take care of her. Today I coaxed Jack to follow the wrong car so I could give her a ride home. Without him running off, you wouldn’t have seen her. I set it up for her, and lucky you. You got to deliver it.”

Then he said something else. “See how I care for Thelma? I’ll always do the same for you.”

The Lord said, “I have loved you with an everlasting love; I have drawn you with unfailing kindness.” (Jeremiah 31:3)

 

Operation Quality Time

When we get together with our California cousins, there may be minimal kissin’ but there’s always lots of huggin’ as we renew relationships. We were raised through our formative years one block apart in the Chicago neighborhood of Sauganash, living in and out of each other’s houses day to day. Our dads also shared ownership of a small Michigan summer cottage, and the 7 of us frolicked on the beach together, bonding like siblings.

When our uncle decided to leave Chicago for a dream job in Los Angeles, our cousin-world shattered while we watched their family pack up and go. But over the years, our 4 parents put forth great effort to keep relationships fresh by arranging for us to criss-cross the country again and again to spend chunks of time together. When I hit the college years, I got to live and work with these sibling-like cousins for 3 delightful summers.

Now, as we all careen through middle age with old age coming into view, our 4 parents have graduated to heaven. But the ties that bind seem more significant than ever. Mary, Tom and I just returned from week in California with these cousins, dubbing our trip “Operation Quality Time.”

Just studying each other’s faces was a reminder that time is rushing along and will one day run out for each of us. Although some of us had to radically rearrange schedules to put 5 free days together, we determined we’d fight obstacles as long as possible in a continuing effort to carve out chunks of togetherness.

So what’s the strong pull? What’s worth plane tickets, car rentals, turning the world upsidedown, and adjusting to a different time zone?

Love.

Everybody likes to spend time with the ones they love. The pull is powerful. But our capacity to love is nothing compared to God’s. He’s drawn to us much like we’re drawn to our cousins but with a far greater intensity and depth. In Scripture he refers to himself as abounding in love toward us, which means overflowing with more love than we could ever absorb.

God describes his love as unfailing, priceless, and purposely directed toward people. He says he’ll love us beyond the end of time and that he’ll never pick and choose to love some and not others. He loves the whole world and will do so throughout eternity.

Now that our California visit has ended, the cousin-resolve to see each other again is strong, because our time together renewed our love.

But God’s love never needs renewing. Thankfully, it remains strong always, in all ways.

“The Lord your God is God; he is the faithful God, keeping his covenant of love to a thousand generations of those who love him and keep his commandments.” (Deuteronomy 7:9)

A Good Guffaw

Yesterday, 6 long-term women friends got together for 24 hours at my sister’s cottage, gathering for the first time since April. Our intentions were six-fold: (1) to pull away from the pressures of everyday life; (2) to catch up on each others families; (3) to share a prayer time; (4) to hike at the beach; (5) to eat good food; (6) to laugh together. Although numbers 1-5 were meaningful, that number 6 was downright spectacular.

After sharing prayer requests, none of us felt like laughing. Among us were the heavy problems of surgery, disease, exhaustion, discouragement, and others. The load was heavy, but after we spent time turning it all over to God, it wasn’t difficult to switch gears and give ourselves over to number 6.

We hadn’t intended to get quite as hilarious as we did, but bringing out a “Catch Phrase” game was a good idea. None of us would call ourselves “gamey,” but once we got going in this contest of words, we had to force ourselves to stop at 1:00 am.

What is it about two hours of guffawing that’s so appealing? Science tells us it serves as an emotional balancing mechanism for stress.  Raucous laughter causes the brain to release something called endorphins, which can increase joy and even reduce physical pain. Indeed, we were feeling no pain last night.

Studies have shown that children laugh far more than adults, 300 times a day for them, 20 for us. Of course that makes perfect sense, but it’s a shame. God urges us to roll our burdens onto him in prayer and to trust his promises as true. The more we follow those instructions, the more we’ll find ourselves laughing.

Scripture tells us that even God has a good laugh once in a while: “The One enthroned in heaven laughs.” (Psalm 2:4) His laughter, however, is usually directed at those who rebel against him, a holy laughter linked with ultimate justice. In that way, our laughing and his are quite different, but then again, he doesn’t need an endorphin boost like we do.

The Lord’s gift of human laughter is so special that he gives us the know-how to do it even before we can talk. A baby’s first laugh brings monumental joy to parents, usually eliciting a laugh in return. It’s a happy, universal language that works well in every country, with every dialect, for every age. Even though some laughs are ha-ha-ha, some ho-ho-ho and others hee-hee-hee, we “get” them all.

Today while sitting in church, I realized my stomach muscles hurt. The 6 of us laughed so hard for so long last night, my abs mistakenly thought they’d had a work-out. Well, maybe they had, which would be just one more benefit of a good guffaw.

There is a time for everything… a time to weep and a time to laugh.” (Ecclesiastes 3:1a,4a)