Ultimate Realities

Natalie took this picture while visiting Wales (Worms Head) with my dear friends Rick and Mary Miller. I love it: so rugged, so treacherous, yet so peaceful and beautiful. I feel like it goes with my post.


Most of the time ultimate realities aren’t really on my mind. What I think about is getting the right amount of sugar in my coffee and making sure I put the clothes in the dryer and getting more fiber in our diet and downloading anti-virus software. In short, my mind is on all the things I can handle, affect, create, control.

And because life happens in space and time and I have a family, friends, a church, a job, a house, and now the Olympics, there is enough on any day to keep me preoccupied, living life as if this is all there is, as if life will always be like this.

Because I’m blessed to have responsibilities, refuge, and recourse; because at this moment almost all fronts are quiet, I can and do spend most of my moments on basically steady ground, concerning myself with ordinary, domestic, comfortable things.

But today is different. Today I’m thinking about ultimate realities; the thoughts you have when you watch from the car as your child walks into school on that first day, when your teenager is driving on the interstate in a thunderstorm, when you leave her in a dorm room in another city, when she gets on a plane for Europe.

Time is so strange. While I was holding each baby, fascinated with the swirls of down on their skin, enjoying that good solid feel of their weight in my arms, I had all the time in the world. I had no idea that within moments that baby would be whisked out of my arms, replaced by a toddler with out-stretched arms saying, “Hold you, Mommy, hold you,” who in turn was replaced by a child who wanted to play the violin, and then by a teenager needing braces, each one seemingly swept up and away, alive only in pictures and memories.

And so today the one who once had golden curls and fell asleep while riding “horsey” on her daddy’s back, boarded a plane, backpack, laptop in tow, passport in hand, to travel and then study in France for a semester.

What are the ultimate realities? They grow up. They leave. We don’t go with them. We can’t “make it all better” anymore, and we can’t control the world they step out into. Luggage gets lost, friends disappoint, men leer, money runs out, cancer cells multiply, planes crash. Everyone sins.

As I took a walk and prayed for my Natalie, I prayed for a safe trip. I prayed things would go well, that she would be calm, that she could sleep. I prayed for all the things we ask for but know we can’t always expect. This truth is hard to face: that there are and will be many things in life that don’t go the way we want. Many prayers will be unanswered.

And so I was reduced to the only prayer I know will be answered in the way I ask. And the one prayer I would choose above all others if forced to choose only one.

“Lord Jesus, be with her. Amen.”

Postscript: She made it fine and is making me very happy by posting lots of pictures and writing on her blog, Natalie Bernardini.

The Other Me

Do you ever wonder if there’s a better you somewhere? A you that would:

Wake up like a toddler and run to the window and announce, “The sun is shining! Just for me!” instead of groaning, burying your head under the pillow, wishing for just five more minutes.

Say to your husband, “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ll try to do better,” instead of thinking, “Why do you care so much about a little toothpaste spit in the bathroom sink when you leave crumbs all over the kitchen? And what about all that broken junk in the garage? And how you have so many faults I never even mention!"

Give money to a person in need without even considering whether it’s wise to do so.

Never say things like, “I guess I’m the only person in this house who knows how to empty a dishwasher.”

Not notice that the woman using food stamps has a $120 hairstyle.

Laugh when the upstairs bathroom floods because you left the faucet on while the water was turned off so your husband could fix yet another plumbing leak in a week in which 10 other things had broken. And then decide to have dinner guests anyway because they were having a hard time. (My sister and her husband did this– my heroes.)

Say yes to any request to go on boring errands just for the pleasure of being with a family member instead of staying home to “get things done”.

Listen gratefully to the sound of your husband’s snoring, proof that he’s alive, that he’s there.

Forget to ask how much it cost, or will cost, or if the checks were deposited.

Join your husband who is dancing in the much-needed rain instead of just watching from the window.

Cling to the feet of Jesus, refusing to let go, loving Him, wasting precious perfume, oblivious to decorum.

Look at people like the ones who go on Dr. Phil and, instead of getting angry, weep. The way Jesus did over Jerusalem.

Hug people so hard it takes their breath away.

Wish like Pilate in Toni Morrison’s "Song of Solomon", If I’d a knowed more people, I’d a loved more…

Every now and then something stirs. I hear a far-off hymn. I hum Paul McCartney’s “The Other Me”. Something calls me to break out, to stop measuring, calculating, guarding, withholding, being the same person day after day. To believe, really believe, He “makes all things new.” Even me.