Mar 312010
 



Craig and I felt very tired after Christmas this year, so instead of disposing of our Christmas tree properly, we threw it on the back porch and left it lying there for months. One morning in late February, I looked out at the abandoned tree on the porch floor and noticed that it looked much smaller than I remembered it. I was curious about that. A week later I looked outside again and saw that the tree was smaller still. What had originally been an eight foot tree now looked like it couldn’t be much longer than I. I realized that the tree was decomposing, right there on my porch floor, without the help of worms or soil or any of the other Earthy things I had always thought were necessary for decomposition. Forever the teacher, I was delighted to have a science experiment that Chase and I could experience together.

One morning I walked Chase to our glass doors and pointed out the shrinking tree on the porch floor. He was amazed. We bundled up and went out on the porch to measure the tree together. We discovered that the tree was three feet shorter than it was in its glory days, when it stood proudly in our family room. Chase was fascinated. We discussed the process of decomposition and he asked me a lot of questions about how a tree could decompose in an enclosed room and I widened my eyes and said it’s amazing, isn’t it? I told him it must be decomposing due to all the air and also, you know, all the science. Each morning, Chase and I sat on the floor side by side, looked through the glass doors at the Christmas tree on the porch floor, and observed it shrink smaller and smaller still. Chase was thrilled. I patted myself on the back for being such a conscientious and sciency mom.

One morning, while Chase and I were sitting on the floor, staring at the tree, and discussing our amazement that it was now clearly just INCHES long… Craig walked up behind us. He heard the tail end of our conversation and interrupted us with the following:


Husband: “Glennon, what are you talking about?”

Me: “Chase and I have been observing this tree for a month. Husband, It’s AMAZING. The tree gets smaller everyday. We had no idea things could decompose at this rate and INSIDE. So cool. Chase has even talked to his teacher about it.”

I waited for Husband to be dazzled by my extraordinary parenting and teaching and observation skills.

Husband: Silence.

Me: Scared.

Husband: Glennon. I’ve been using the tree for firewood.



I start homeschooling in three days. It’ll be fine.


Mar 302010
 


Some days are just too hard to write about. Like today. Today’s my baby Sister’s birthday. Tomorrow she leaves me for Rwanda for 9 months. Where she’ll use her law degree, her courage, and her faith to fight to protect brutalized little girls for whom noone has ever fought before.

So instead of writing, I sit here and think. Or try not to, rather. And I stare at pictures of her on my computer and I swallow hard. I have no clue where to start, or what to say, or how to even pray. So I think, I’ll just write nothing. It’s too hard. Everyone will understand. Sister will understand. And so I close up the blog. Nothing today, friends.

And I open my email, and this message is waiting from Lou. My Lou, your Lou. The Lou we all met through Momastery. And she writes this:

I’ve been thinking about Sister too. I hope you are posting the prayer for Sister this week. I still like that prayer, G. Usually whenever I go back and read something I wrote, I want to edit it. But I don’t have that feeling with that prayer.

Here’s Lou’s prayer. It’s by my bed. I am going to pray it every morning and every night until my baby sister is back in my kitchen. Cooking, preferably. I would love it if you would pray it once too. Just reading it today counts as praying, of course. Everything counts as praying.

Dear God,

I’m scared. About Sister. I don’t want her and her family to be scared all the time. I want them to be able to sleep at night. And wake up with hope and faith and excitement. And have peaceful hearts throughout the day. I lay all my fears down at your feet. Pick them up and take them away from me. So I can be strong and fierce and continue to pray for her work in Rwanda. Where they need her. Those who are oppressed. Who live in fear daily. Hourly. Those who have been treated unfairly. For Sooooooo Loooong. Thank you for all the experiences in Sister’s life that prepared her for this time in this place. Rwanda. Protect her and keep her safe. And healthy.

Provide her just-in-time emotional, physical and spiritual rest, energy, and stamina. Sufficient and abundant preparation in all aspects. Safe travels. Safe shelter. And MORE SAFETY for God’s sake. Not too many bugs! Good companions… relational and professional. Someone who makes her laugh! Someone particularly blessed with whom she can share her burdens! All the expertise needed. God-given slip ups on the part of the oppressors and God-given contacts from the oppressed with people at IJM. A flannel pillow or some other cozy thing. Bravery and courageousness for her and all those working with her and for all justice seekers and for all the oppressed. Sunlight, stars, and the beauty of God’s creation! That the right people will be placed in the government and in power to do the right thing. That the laws are in place and changed as needed to rescue the oppressed. The sound of children laughing and singing! That hearts will be touched and changed because of the truth and light God shines through her on these situations in Rwanda. Beautiful hearts and good memories! That those who are rescued will be healed and comforted with bandages, and people, and rest, and the Lord. The smell of coffee or tea or some other lovely thing! That oppressors hearts would also be rescued and redeemed. Some justice here on earth! Just the right amount and kind of contact from home that she requires and desires. Powerful prayers continually being lifted up for her. Seeing and feeling God’s presence powerfully every day! Did I mention safety, Lord? Keep her safe and secure, not only in your love and faithfulness, but in one piece, because G needs her back home here when she’s done. Amen.

Amen.

I love you, Baby Sister.


I’m glad I still have a little Amanda to hold while you’re gone.


She can’t cook, though, Sister.

Hurry.



Mar 292010
 

Lou asked for a Guest Post from Tisha, and what Lou wants, Lou gets. I found this letter recently while I was scrounging through Craig’s dresser, looking for money.


December, 2009

Dear Craig,

It’s 4:00 in the morning and Bubba is sound asleep. I have been awake for a while, just lying in bed. As I laid there, I began thinking of our family and all that we have gone through with Glennon’s diagnosis during the past ten days. Feelings of gratitude and appreciation filled my heart. I realized I wanted to come to the computer and write to you.

As you know very well, our little G-bird is a passionate person who uses all her energy to accomplish what she feels she must do. I know it takes a lot of energy to live with someone who lives passionately. I am so grateful that she is married to a man who supports and encourages her to follow her passions. She wanted so much to be Tishy’s preschool teacher and experience the magical world of preschool aged children. You helped her make that happen and it wasn’t easy. You converted your downstairs to a school which took away badly needed space. You supported her in financing the supplies and furniture necessary to create her “dream classroom.” You assumed care of the children when she needed to prepare lessons. G got her chance to live out this dream and you helped her make it happen.

You continue to support and encourage her with Momastery. I admire the journey you are taking as parents and as young adults trying to find the best road to travel. The fact that you are partners in this journey provides much of the substance of Momastery. Most importantly, though, it is your confidence that she does have special talents and your faith that she should be doing what she is doing that motivates her to spread her wings and fly. G has her chance to write and you helped make it happen.

For the support and encouragement of her spirit and for the faith you have in Glennon, I am truly grateful. Yet I am even more grateful for something else you do for her. Last Monday morning when Glennon was so very ill, you called me to ask how much further I had to go to get to your home. You sounded in charge and in control. When I hung up, I realized that despite the calm in your voice, you and I were both frightened but trying to remain composed. Of course I prayed for God to cleanse G’s body of anything that could hurt her, and I prayed for me to arrive safely and quickly to your home to take care of the children, but I also said a prayer of thanks that you were the one who was with her. You always do what is best for Glennon. I feel so grateful to have a son-in-law in whom I can always put my faith and trust. You always make decisions which will support her and protect her.

When your child becomes an adult, you no longer have the power to do what needs to be done to see that she is safe and protected. But to know that there is someone there taking over for you, who makes decisions carefully, thoughtfully, and unselfishly, because he loves her with his whole heart…that gives a parent peace. Thank you so much for my peace.

In one of Glennon’s blog entries about her recovery she wrote, “Craig is the only person who could have saved me.” I thank God for bringing you to her. And I thank you for loving her the way you do. I am Forever Grateful. Merry Christmas!

Love, Tisha


I love my mama. Deep breaths today, Monkees. Love, G