Let Me Tell You About Another Man

Several years ago, I wrote a post to honor my dad Vernon.  I shared the story of his time in Korea. I did my best to share his heroism with my readers.  I wanted the world to know what an amazing man the simple farmer from Kansas truly was.  I wanted to honor my hero.

This past week, I lost my "other" dad.  My father-in-law, Keith, passed from this life to the next.  It has been a difficult time, to say the least.  Let me introduce the man who became Dad Johnson to me almost 36 years ago.

I briefly met my husband's family on our college campus.  Little did I know that two years later, I would again be introduced to them, but this time as their son's girl friend.  Keith (my husband) and I were traveling to Michigan to begin our summer internships.  His family graciously met us in Terre Haute, as we had left Springfield, MO, in the wee hours of the morning.  From the moment we made acquaintance, I was wrapped in their love and joy.  They laughed a lot.  They truly enjoyed being together.  Even beyond being family, they had a friendship so deep.  I was thankful they allowed me into that circle.

During that summer, I grew to love and appreciate them even more.  I was welcomed into family basketball games, splashes in the pool, and family meals filled with laughter.  One of the funniest memories was when his dad tried to pray over his meal.  As soon as his head was bowed, hands would reach out from every side to remove some of the food from his plate.  (This eventually led to him praying with his arms covering his plate.)  👀

On a warm July evening, my true love proposed to me.  His dad was out bowling, so we broke the news to him after he arrived home.  He graciously shared his birthday with us.  He was never a selfish man.

A little over a year later, the entire family made the long trek from Michigan to southwest Kansas, as I began my journey as truly part of the Johnsons.  They were supportive of us, and showered so much love on us.  They had previously hosted a wedding shower when I visited Michigan--held at the home of my future husband's aunt and uncle (more fun family!).

We made our first home in Michigan.  Just about every Sunday we would find our way to their house for a time of snacking on chips, watching football (or basketball or baseball), and eating chicken (from Mr. Chicken, of course).  Those were lean times for this young couple--there was always a place at the table for us.

At this point, you're probably wondering, "Where are the stories of your father-in-law?"  You're reading them.  His dad was all about family and family time.  His love for his own children extended to me, as well as my brother-in-law and sister-in law, and, eventually his grandchildren and great grandchildren.

Whenever he celebrated a birthday, his greatest wish was to be with his family.  Yes, the cards and gifts were nice, but even more wonderful was the time spent talking, laughing, and playing with his family.  It was what he most desired: making memories.

During a particularly difficult time for us, he and my mother-in-law allowed us to move in with them.  For eight months, they welcomed us into their home and wrapped us in love.  A specifically poignant moment for me occured one night when my husband was out for the evening.  The three of us sat at the table and talked about my husband's and my desire to have children.  It was a deep longing of ours.  Sadly, after five years of marriage, we were still childless.  A few minutes into the conversation, Dad left the room.  When I glanced into the living room, I saw my dear father-in-law kneeling next to their couch.  He was praying for us.  About a year later, God answered his prayers.  We were filled with joy to share the news with his family on Father's Day!

Our sons have never had to question the love of their grandparents (on either side of the family).  However, due to where we have lived, they have experienced more time with my husband's parents.  Whenever I was privileged to have my family visit from Kansas, they were welcomed with open arms into Johnson family celebrations.  My in-laws traveled to Ohio many times to watch baseball games, plays, etc.

These memories will tell you more about my father-in-law than any explanation I could otherwise give.  He was full of love, laughter, compassion, and, most of all, a love for Jesus.  Every visit would end with a time of prayer over us.  He petitioned God for safe travel and provision for his children and grandchildren.  Yes, we laughed, played games, and joked.  But we also had times of discussing Scripture and deeper subjects, too.  He loved football, basketball, baseball, hockey, golf, chess, and card games.  But he loved his family--and His God, above all.  He was a leader in the ways that mattered most.

I don't feel my meager words have truly captured who he was.  But as we celebrated his life yesterday, I looked at the room full of people there: people from every stage of his life.  I saw the legacy he was leaving behind.  People who always knew they were loved.  Friends who knew he cared beyond lip-service.  I heard stories of his accounting skills, and the ways he used that knowledge to help friends in need.

Let me tell you about this other man, because he, too, was my hero.  I'll miss you Dad Johnson.  But this isn't goodbye.  It's "see you later".

 

Habemus Papam!

 We have a pope!

Millions around the world were glued to their TVs, computers, phones, and radios as the white smoke came streaming from the chimney atop the Sistine Chapel.  Then, the time of more waiting, as the result of the vote would be announced.  Cheers rang out as the name of the new pontiff was declared:  Cardinal Robert Prevost is the new pope, choosing the title of Pope Leo XIV.

I will admit, I have never heard of Cardinal Robert Prevost.  I was shocked to learn of his birth and upbringing in Chicago.  An American pope?!  I never thought I would hear those words in my lifetime!

After the proclamation, I made the mistake of scrolling through social media. I erroneously imagined the world rejoicing at this moment.  However, all the trolls came out of the woodwork.  Anger against the Catholic Church (and Christianity in general) was spewed all over the internet.  Accusations hurled this way and that.  Ugh.

Our family converted to the Catholic Church in 2007.  We came into this centuries-old faith after years of prayer, study, and discernment.  My husband in particular studied Church history, the writings of the early Church Fathers, and prayed for several years.  It was a difficult decision which required great sacrifice for all of us.  The questions of, "Don't you know..." this or that about the Catholic Church came from all sides (me included).  Yet he knew the voice of the Holy Spirit would never lead him astray.  We came into the Church with eyes wide open.  We gave up everything to be Catholic.

Today, when I read the horrible allegations against the Pope, the Church, Christians, etc., it made me angry, hurt, and outright sad.  Because the truth is, the Church is the Church: established by Christ, but given into the hands of frail humanity.  People are messy.  They are broken.  They hurt others.  They sin. Then, even as Cain did, try to wriggle their way out of it. The enemies of the Church have tried in so many ways to destroy what Christ began.  Yet, here the Church remains.  Two thousand years later, the Church is still alive and well. She has often been wounded.  She has been ridiculed and thousands have been martyred in the name of her Lord.  Wrong has been done in her name. But the gates of hell have not prevailed.  They will NOT prevail.

Pope Leo XIV has not taken on this role lightly.  I cannot imagine his thoughts as he entered the Room of Tears to don the papal vestments for the first time.  He entered the room as Robert, and left as Leo XIV.  He entered as a relatively unknown Cardinal, and left to meet thousands of people in St. Peter's Square.  His life will never be the same.  This man from humble beginnings in Chicago left the room as the Bishop of Rome.  

I don't know what the future holds.  The world is a mess.

What I do know is that the world needs Jesus.  I pray that His representative, Pope Leo XIV, will have the courage to lead the Church in evangelizing the world.  He needs our prayers.

St. Augustine, pray for us. 

 

St. Paul and True Freedom

Today we celebrate the conversion of St. Paul.  (see Acts 9 and Acts 22)  It is an incredible story of a man (Saul) set on exposing the truth while he was unknowingly fighting against the truth.  He was a devout Jewish leader, searching for those who would teach against the Laws he knew so well. The conclusion of his journey (and the beginning of a new path) came unexpectedly as he traveled to Damascus, seeking those of the Christian faith.  Light pierced the sky, a voice spoke from heaven, he was unseated from his horse, and an encounter with the risen Jesus took place.  He gained a new perspective and a new name (Saul became Paul).  He met a man (Ananias) who prayed for the scales to be removed from Paul's eyes (both figuratively and literally).  He baptized Paul, and introduced him to the Man behind the voice.  In that moment, Paul saw the fulfillment of all he had been taught.  His Messiah had come, and had a mission for Paul.

"The God of our fathers appointed you to know His will, to see the Just One and to hear a voice from His mouth; for you will be a witness for Him to all men of what you have seen and heard." (Acts 22:14-15)

This story brought back to me the words of Rich Mullins' song, "Higher Education."  What does it mean to be human?  Saul thought he had it all figured out.  He was religiously following the teaching of his fathers.  He was persecuting anyone who taught otherwise.  And yet, something was missing.  He wasn't truly all God had created him to be.

In the words of Rich Mullins:

"Well, I do not know that we can have a Heaven
Here on earth, but I am sure we need not have a Hell either
What does it mean to be human? I cannot help but believe that it means
We are spiritual - that we are responsible and that we are free - that
We are responsible to be free."

On that road, and as he encountered Ananias and Barnabas, Paul learned what it truly meant to be free.  He discovered the Truth.  And the Truth set him free.

New Year - New Adventures

 Hello, blog readers!  I haven't posted in forever!  Our old laptop became more of a burden than a tool.  This year, my wonderful family gifted me a Chromebook for Christmas.  Hurray!

I'm going to address the obvious "big story" of the week: the inauguration of Donald Trump as our president.  Unless you live under a rock, you probably know more about this than I do.  I watched the major event of the oaths.  I heard President Trump's acceptance speech.  I viewed the footage of the Bidens leaving in the helicopter in a peaceful transfer of power.

To me, one of the bright spots was Carrie Underwood's impromptu Acapella version of "America the Beautiful".  (Sound systems seem to be the bane of everyone's existence!)  As the crowd joined in singing, I had such a feeling of patriotic pride.  Yes, please!  God bless America!

Do I have opinions about our new president and vice president?  For sure.  But my approach to each new presidency is this: pray, wait and see, and pray some more.

We don't need more division in our country.  Let's pray for God to bless the USA and give our new leadership His wisdom.

A Tribute

Five days ago, there passed from this life a woman who influenced my life so greatly.  She was, first of all, my aunt. She was also my Missionettes leader, my Sunday school teacher, my children's church teacher, and so much more. Her daughters and I grew up attending the same school and the same church. We are all pretty close in age. I spent many Sunday afternoons and overnights at their house.  I always knew that if my own mom wasn't available, Aunt Sue was.

When I was pondering about a way to pay tribute to her life, one word kept coming back to me:  genuine.  There are a lot of other words to describe her. Everyone knew her as one of the kindest people they knew. She was a servant in every way.  She made everyone feel that they were important to her, and that their life mattered. But to say she was genuine, I feel speaks of the love she showed to everyone because of the love she had for her Savior.  To say she was the most genuine Christian I have ever met is not an exaggeration.

I have specific memories of incidents that took place when I was growing up. When I was very young, I said something to one of her children which was very, very unkind. But as a child, I didn't realize how cruel it was. Aunt Sue brought me into the room where she was sitting at her sewing machine. She asked me the simple question of, did I say this? I answered yes. She didn't condemn me or become angry at me. Instead, she quietly explained to me why what I had said was so nasty.  She reminded me of the love that God has for each of us, no matter what our appearance or physical qualities. She spoke to me in love, but without wavering from the truth.

One night in our Missionettes group, I asked a question about doing something wrong when we knew God would forgive us later anyway. She quoted James 4:17, "Therefore,to him who knows to do good and does not do it, to him it is sin." Almost 50 years later, I am still often reminded of the scripture.

On another day several years later, I spoke up at a meal regarding something I had been taught at school.  I was, of course, just repeating what my teacher had told me. Aunt Sue quickly stopped me and corrected me. Again, though, the words of correction were spoken with love.

Every time we have had a chance to visit my family in Kansas, she was one of the people I always made an effort to see. Because you see, I felt like I was visiting my other mom.

Thank you, Aunt Sue, for your life and your love.  Thank you for loving me enough to tell me the truth. And thank you for being so genuinely in love with Jesus that those around you couldn't help but want to love Him too.

The "Happy" Mother's Day That Wasn't

Sunday, May 14, 1995

Mother's Day had become a burden.  After almost six years of marriage, it was yet another holiday to be celebrated without a child.  I had not anticipated this day, but rather dreaded it.  

The previous week, we had attended our denomination's District Council.  I had no doubt I was not pregnant, as the usual monthly cycle had come once again.  I was quite depressed.  I spent some time away from the meetings and fellowship.  Sleeping in the hotel was my little escape.

The last morning of the council, in a very special service, our district superintendent spoke.  I honestly don't remember his sermon.  What I do hold in my memory was the moment he said the Holy Spirit was leading him to have us pray for those who needed healing.  Keith took my hand, and we stood together.  We told no one of our childlessness.  They simply laid their hands on us and prayed.

When Mother's Day arrived, Keith and I planned to go out to breakfast.  We skipped morning service at church.  This turned out to be an even worse plan.  The restaurant was filled with families honoring their mothers.  We weren't at church to celebrate our friends who were moms.  All I wanted to do was go home and be in solitude.

That evening, we did attend church.  A friend asked how our Mother's Day had been?  My response was only to say, "Mother's Day isn't a good day for us." 

A few weeks later, we attended another ministers' gathering.  Through a series of events which I won't detail here, I ended up in a women's restroom sobbing.  My heart was broken.  I was never going to be a mother.  My wonderful husband knocked at the door, and took me by the hand.  We embarked on a short walk alone.  He finally said, "We have to give this to God.  Even if we never have a child of our own, we need to be open to adopting.  Whatever God has for us, we need to be willing to obey."  [Probably not his exact words, but it was something similar.]

And so we prayed...

Within a week's time, I was sitting in a doctor's office waiting.  The nurse popped her head around the corner.  With a big smile, she announced:  "It's positive!"  The date?  June 17, 1995.  It was our sixth wedding anniversary.  And also the day before Father's Day.

For some reason, on this Mother's Day 27 years later, my heart has been filled with our story.  I felt someone needed to hear it.  Whoever you are, remember that God has a plan.  I have friends who have been called to parent their biological children. I have friends who have been called to parent through foster parenting.  I have friends who have been called to parent through adoption.  I have friends who have been called to parent through mentoring young people in their church or community.  

Hold on to hope. Hold on to God's hand and let Him lead you.

And know that I am praying.

"'For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the Lord, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.'" 

                                                            Jeremiah 29:11, NIV

Remembrances

It has been two years since you left us. Yet, if I blink my eyes... 

I can see you sitting in your favorite chair. I can hear your voice as you talk about the state of the crops, or the condition of the cattle market. I can recall your playful tone when I called and said, "It's Joni", and you responded, "It is you, isn't it?". Or when it was Mom's turn, you handed her the phone, and said, "It's Jopey." 

I have memories of you crawling under whatever tractor decided it was good to break down during planting season--or a combine with the same crazy idea during harvest. 

Your implement store cap, bill upturned, shading your face, but never stopping the dust of the Plains from coating your face. The grease from a thousand and one repairs  never completely erased from under your nails. The farmer's tan, earned from decades of working under the sweltering Kansas sun. Wrestling and roughly rubbing down a newborn calf to coax warmth and life into its little body, and helping clean up the back porch after the baby was safely returned to its mama. A lifetime of dealing with the droughts, floods, snows, storms, and crazily fluctuating market prices etching themselves into the lines of your dear, caring face. 

I hear your laughter as you share the latest "overhead in the coffee shop" joke, or as you read a humorous tidbit from whatever newspaper you have in hand. 

I reminisce about making the trek to church, no matter what the weatherman said. I see you sitting at the head of the table, thanking God for providing another meal. In my mind's eye, there is a permanent photo album of church memories: Sunday school class, teaching the children another "Did you know?", late-night board meetings, sitting at the end of the pew, and giving me "the look" if I misbehaved. Standing (and in later years sitting, when standing was no longer possible) at the church doors, greeting everyone with a welcoming smile and a word or two to let every individual know they were welcome.

Too many memories to count... 

Journeys to Colorado.  Fishing in the mountain streams.  Those perilous, rough trips in the Jeep, as we made our way slowly up the seemingly impassable mountain trails.

Sitting at the kitchen table, eating Life cereal, because that's what my daddy eats.

Seeing you in the stands as I struggled with my confidence as a basketball player, and your words of encouragement after you conferred with the coach. We both knew I loved to play, but I was never going to be a sports standout. 

Always looking for your face in the audience, and many times knowing the farm had taken precedence over a play, sporting event, or music festival. But also knowing you would always want to know how it went.

The feeling of your dear, thin hand as we said our last "in person" goodbyes. And the sound of your feeble voice in that final, precious phone call. 

 You are forever in my heart, Daddy. Two years is nothing in light of eternity.

A Gift from the Heart

Have you ever looked into the eyes of someone who was less than thrilled with a gift? You can see it the moment the paper falls away. What is revealed is far less than what they had expected. Disappointment is very obvious. The words are still spoken, "Thank you!", but there is no doubt the recipient is feeling let down. The problem is, you had spent hours and hours looking for just the right item. You put a lot of thought and time into choosing a gift that would bring a smile to the face and joy to the heart. Yet, there is only a forced smile and a pretense of gratitude. The same holds true for the ultimate Gift Giver. His greatest Gift to the world was not a spur of the moment decision. When searching for the very best Gift, money was no object. He would not give anything less than the very best. He held nothing back. Scripture says, "Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places, even as He chose us in Him before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and blameless before Him." Ponder those words: Before the foundation of the world. Before the Garden of Eden. Before the first bite of the fruit. Before Cain or Abel. Before all of it. BEFORE creation was even formed, God had chosen the Gift. He had formed the plan, and knew the outcome. He even knew the reaction of every recipient. He knew whether that Gift would be received or rejected. This past week, we have pondered again the plan. We remembered the triumphant entry into Jerusalem. We paused again to reflect on the overturning of the tables in the temple of Jerusalem. We walked through the Triduum--the last three days--of the life of Jesus. We relived the Last Supper. We walked to the Garden of Gethsemane with Him. We witnessed His agony in prayer, and the betrayal by one of His followers. We reminsced on the importance of the private, quick trial and hasty conviction of One who had taught, healed, and worked other miracles publicly. We recalled His brutal scourging and horrific death on a Roman cross of crucifixion. Then, quite joyfully, we celebrated His coming back to life: the resurrection of a man who died a brutal death. We sang the songs. We wore the beautiful clothes. But what is that in our eyes? Is it disappointment? Are we feeling let down? Is there a moment of, "Oh, is that all?" Remember the verse quoted above: In Christ, God has given us EVERY spiritual blessing. In accepting that amazing, seemingly impossible Gift, we are participating in the plan begun "before the foundation of the world". God knew what would happen. He knew we would often choose other things that sparkled or offered more momentary joy. He knew. Yet, He continued with the plan. He went forward with offering His own Son to come, live, die, and resurrect. He didn't withhold anything. Romans 8:31-32 says, "What then shall we say to this? If God is for us, who is against us? He who did not spare His own Son but gave Him up for us all, will He not also give us all things with Him?" My hope and prayer is that today, you will take some time to reflect on the value of this Gift. Don't stop at Easter Sunday, and decide to set Him aside. Open the entire Gift, and let Him give you "all things" that He desires: Life. Love. Strength. Wisdom. Understanding. Fortitude. Knowledge. Piety. Peace. Joy. Longsuffering. Kindness. Goodness. Faithfulness. Gentleness. Self-control. And so much more! Accept the Gift. Acknowledge the Giver with unbridled joy and deep thankfulness of heart. This is definitely the Gift that keeps on giving! For more information: https://www.catholic.com/qa/the-seven-gifts-of-the-holy-spirit

A Year of Firsts

I could simply type "2020" and everyone would have a whole recollection of "firsts" for the past year.  So many unexpected experiences.  I have seen the word "unprecedented" more in the past twelve months than I have in my whole life.  Yes, it is definitely a year that will not quickly pass from memory.

Like all of you, I have undergone a series of "firsts":

1) First time wearing a mask when entering a bank (add church, grocery store, etc. etc.); 2) First time not going to church for two months, because we weren't allowed to be there in person; 3) First time seeing our family and not hugging them; 4) First time attending church at a distance from others; 5) First time attending church and being told not to sing; 6) First time staying at a motel with a complimentary breakfast--and being given a brown bag; 7) First time trying to connect with people without them seeing me smile back; 8) First time visiting friends with a door, window, or at least 6' between us; 9) First time teaching piano lessons remotely (which began with a whole lot of other "firsts"); and, 10) First time I have taken a walk EVERY day for several weeks in a row just so I could be out of the house!

As you're reading this, you can probably relate to most or all of those "firsts" as well.

But, totally unrelated to COVID-19, this has been another year of "firsts" (beginning in October, 2019):

1) First year my dad celebrated his birthday in the presence of his Lord; 2) First year of not having Dad call to ask about the weather, and "are you kids safe up there?"; 3) First year of going to Kansas, but Dad wasn't there to greet us; and, 4) First year of longing for heaven so much it physically hurts.

This list could go on and on, but I'm sure you get the picture.  

Let's move on, though.  What are some of the truly positive "firsts"?

Our family has spent more time together than ever before. In certain moments, that may have felt like a negative instead of a positive.  I mean, four adults together in a 2-bedroom apartment?!  But even on those occasions when we all just needed some s-p-a-c-e, it was a positive.  We have learned new ways to talk through our differences and help each other through the craziness of life.  

Our oldest son landed his first full-time job.  That, my friends, is definitely a positive.

Our family has gone on more outdoor adventures than ever before.  Including, but not limited to, getting lost on a hiking trail, along with about 20 strangers.  (Which reminds me of a letter I should write to the Cuyahoga County Parks folks.  Trail markers are an important tool in life!)

In far deeper ways, I have learned to appreciate the times I do have with friends and family.  

I have learned how much strength I draw from being at church with my brothers and sisters in Christ, and from the reception of Holy Communion.  From March to May, watching Mass via a computer screen, it created this deep longing inside.  The first time "public" Mass was offered at our church, we were there, masks in place!

I have experienced life without my dad's verbal encouragement, yes.  But I have learned to live out his words of wisdom by simply remembering his example.  What a gift!  

stevemarselstudio.com

I think the biggest lesson I have learned throughout the madness of 2020 is that we all NEED each other.  Sure, we have a plethora of different views on religion, politics, etc.  But in the end, we are all
PEOPLE.  We were created for relationship.  I pray that we all learn the importance of that in new ways in the year 2021.

May your new year be filled with more positive "firsts" and less negative! 

Th-th-th-that's NOT all, folks!

One week ago, we were all rejoicing at the glory of Christ's resurrection.  We recalled His triumphal entry into Jerusalem.  We mourned as we remembered His cruel death.  We waited in silence, as we called to mind His time in the grave.  On Sunday, though, we were full of joy as we relived the discovery of an empty tomb.  There it is.  One more Easter in the books.  Let's move along and bide our time until Memorial Day.  Check off another holiday!

Not so fast!

In the Catholic Church, we celebrate a time known as the Octave of Easter.  Eight days of singing the Gloria! and letting forth a resounding Alleluia!  Today, on the eighth day, we celebrate the Feast of Divine Mercy.  How glorious it is to call to mind the great mercy of God, who sent His Son for our salvation.  Check off another holy day!

Not so fast!

This is just the beginning!  We also celebrate not just one day, but a season of fifty days of Easter!  From Easter Sunday, we spend the next 7 weeks delighting in the goodness of His life, which brings us life.  After 40 days of fasting, alms giving, and prayer, we take this period of time to express our thanks to God.  At the end of these fifty days, we will reach another wonderful time:  Pentecost.

Maybe it's a bit too soon to put away the pastel decorations and toss the Easter lily.

The Lord is risen.  He is risen indeed!  Alleluia!