You all did a great job of keeping a secret. I still didn't know where we were going for our anniversary until we got up to the ticket counter at the airport. I thought I heard the man say, "Boston?" but I wasn't sure until I saw him put the tickets on the baggage. Yes, I was very excited, because I knew that I would see all kinds of history that would remind me of all the Christians who founded this country and would lift my soul. And that is exactly what happened. Plus, lots more.
When we got on the plane, we both fell asleep immediately and slept soundly until we landed. Then we rented a car, with a very cool Global Positioning System. John, you would have loved this thing. You just punch in a destination and it tells you step by step how to get there. If you miss a turn, it says "Recalculating," and then revises its directions. Well, Daddy nearly killed us with playing with it while driving, but we greatly enjoyed it. And it did help us find everything we could have wanted. I thought of you when we drove through Ted Williams tunnel almost immediately upon leaving the airport.
The Bed and Breakfast was called The Lamb and Lion Inn. If this link works, you will get to see some of it. As you know, (and have learned to pronounce with such flourish), it was located in Barnstable. When I saw the name, I thought it might be run by Christians, but they had just bought the inn from someone else. Driving up to it, we passed all these beautiful fences made of piled-up stones. All I could think of was reading Johnny Tremain out loud together when you guys were little. I wished that you could both have seen it and hope that someday we can take you there. In the back of the inn was a huge barn with a weathervane on the top. It was bitterly cold but the inn was so cozy.
You've already seen the picture of the room we stayed in, but it was even nicer than the picture. I haven't got the film developed yet, but I will take them in tomorrow because I really want you to get to see all of this. What was so wonderful was the fireplace and getting to sleep next to it. The first night it snowed lightly, which was exactly what I had wanted. Daddy had picked just what I had dreamed of, and God had provided the snow. This was too much to even ever think I would have. He gives us immeasurably more than we can ask for or imagine. Can you imagine what heaven must be like then?
Outside our window was a little garden and some woods, and the innkeepers took great pains to attract a variety of birds by putting out different kinds of seeds. They also had three little dogs and allowed people to bring pets. We met a huge Bearneise Mountain Dog named Monty, who strolled right into our room. Leah, I thought of you and how much you would have loved this dog. Our Buck will need a few years of calming down though before he would be an acceptable guest at the Lamb and the Lion.
Saturday, March 03, 2007
Part II: C-c-cold C-c-cape C-c-cod
We wanted to drive up to Provincetown where the Pilgrims had signed the Mayflower Compact. There is a huge Pilgrim Monument It was a beautiful drive along historic 6A.
We stopped to see the Nauset Lighthouse and to look out at a very different beach than we see in South Florida. It was so bitterly cold by the water that I could feel it right down to my broken pinkie finger. (I'm not kidding.) It made me understand better how hard it would have been for the pilgrims that first winter. I had started out the trip a hale and hearty soul, ready for adventure, bragging to Daddy about how I was of stout New England stock and would have certainly been a pilgrim had I lived back then. He was not buying it from the start. He was right. By this point in the trip, I was doing some whimpering. Just a little. To myself. Guess I'm not as tough as I think I am and need to be reminded of it every so often. (Don't tell him, though.)
When we got to Provincetown, I was amazed at how narrow the streets were. We drove around briefly, then parked and tried to go look at a carved monument depicting the signing of the Mayflower Compact. We started down a hill toward it -- then looked at each other, realized we would have to go back up this hill, against the biting wind, and quickly turned around and went back to the car. Hale and hearty, ha! Florida has made us soft, I fear. But I really was thankful that Daddy didn't have the Iwo Jima Memorial mindset that day. (Although that is one of my favorite memories ever!)
We jumped back in the car and went to the Inn. We were so bitterly cold that we went in the outdoor jacuzzi. Now you might think that this is really crazy, but the water was so very hot that it warmed us to the core even though we were outside. We didn't want to get out, ever. But when we did get out, we were still warm. Well, for a very short while. But long enough to get inside and get another fire going. The second night was much colder. We sat on the floor, nearly in the fireplace for most of that evening. The wind was just whistling outside. It was like nothing we experience in South Florida, and you would have loved it. I thought of that picture that John Piper paints of how our salvation makes us view God with great hope and fear. He says it's like being inside of a safe warm cave while witnessing a vicious storm outside. There is a reverent fear because of the power of the storm, just you have reverent fear of God's holiness and wrath. ("He hurls down His crystals of ice like crumbs; who can stand before his cold?" Psalm 147:17) But you are also filled with great hope, because you are safe from that storm of wrath and find favor with the Judge as you cling to Jesus. ("The Lord takes pleasure in those who fear him, in those who hope in His steadfast love." Psalm 147:11)
The next morning, we drove into Boston but stopped in Plymouth on the way. This was one of the highlights of the history sites for me. We saw Plymouth Rock but what struck me the most was The First Burying Ground Monument, which actually contained the remains of the pilgrims who died that first winter. On the side of it was a marvelous tribute:
HERE UNDER COVER OF DARKNESS THE FAST DWINDLING COMPANY
LAID THEIR DEAD LEVELING THE EARTH ABOVE THEM LEST THE
INDIANS SHOULD LEARN HOW MANY WERE THE GRAVES
READER HISTORY RECORDS NO NOBLER VENTURE FOR FAITH AND
FREEDOM THAN THAT OF THIS PILGRIM BAND. IN WEARINESS
AND PAINFULNESS IN WATCHINGS OFTEN IN HUNGER AND COLD
THEY LAID THE FOUNDATIONS OF A STATE WHEREIN EVERY MAN
THROUGH COUNTLESS AGES SHOULD HAVE LIBERTY TO WORSHIP
GOD IN HIS OWN WAY. MAY THEIR EXAMPLE INSPIRE THEE TO DO
THY PART IN PERPETUATING AND SPREADING THE LOFTY IDEALS
OF OUR REPUBLIC THROUGHOUT THE WORLD!
We stopped to see the Nauset Lighthouse and to look out at a very different beach than we see in South Florida. It was so bitterly cold by the water that I could feel it right down to my broken pinkie finger. (I'm not kidding.) It made me understand better how hard it would have been for the pilgrims that first winter. I had started out the trip a hale and hearty soul, ready for adventure, bragging to Daddy about how I was of stout New England stock and would have certainly been a pilgrim had I lived back then. He was not buying it from the start. He was right. By this point in the trip, I was doing some whimpering. Just a little. To myself. Guess I'm not as tough as I think I am and need to be reminded of it every so often. (Don't tell him, though.)
When we got to Provincetown, I was amazed at how narrow the streets were. We drove around briefly, then parked and tried to go look at a carved monument depicting the signing of the Mayflower Compact. We started down a hill toward it -- then looked at each other, realized we would have to go back up this hill, against the biting wind, and quickly turned around and went back to the car. Hale and hearty, ha! Florida has made us soft, I fear. But I really was thankful that Daddy didn't have the Iwo Jima Memorial mindset that day. (Although that is one of my favorite memories ever!)
We jumped back in the car and went to the Inn. We were so bitterly cold that we went in the outdoor jacuzzi. Now you might think that this is really crazy, but the water was so very hot that it warmed us to the core even though we were outside. We didn't want to get out, ever. But when we did get out, we were still warm. Well, for a very short while. But long enough to get inside and get another fire going. The second night was much colder. We sat on the floor, nearly in the fireplace for most of that evening. The wind was just whistling outside. It was like nothing we experience in South Florida, and you would have loved it. I thought of that picture that John Piper paints of how our salvation makes us view God with great hope and fear. He says it's like being inside of a safe warm cave while witnessing a vicious storm outside. There is a reverent fear because of the power of the storm, just you have reverent fear of God's holiness and wrath. ("He hurls down His crystals of ice like crumbs; who can stand before his cold?" Psalm 147:17) But you are also filled with great hope, because you are safe from that storm of wrath and find favor with the Judge as you cling to Jesus. ("The Lord takes pleasure in those who fear him, in those who hope in His steadfast love." Psalm 147:11)
The next morning, we drove into Boston but stopped in Plymouth on the way. This was one of the highlights of the history sites for me. We saw Plymouth Rock but what struck me the most was The First Burying Ground Monument, which actually contained the remains of the pilgrims who died that first winter. On the side of it was a marvelous tribute:
HERE UNDER COVER OF DARKNESS THE FAST DWINDLING COMPANY
LAID THEIR DEAD LEVELING THE EARTH ABOVE THEM LEST THE
INDIANS SHOULD LEARN HOW MANY WERE THE GRAVES
READER HISTORY RECORDS NO NOBLER VENTURE FOR FAITH AND
FREEDOM THAN THAT OF THIS PILGRIM BAND. IN WEARINESS
AND PAINFULNESS IN WATCHINGS OFTEN IN HUNGER AND COLD
THEY LAID THE FOUNDATIONS OF A STATE WHEREIN EVERY MAN
THROUGH COUNTLESS AGES SHOULD HAVE LIBERTY TO WORSHIP
GOD IN HIS OWN WAY. MAY THEIR EXAMPLE INSPIRE THEE TO DO
THY PART IN PERPETUATING AND SPREADING THE LOFTY IDEALS
OF OUR REPUBLIC THROUGHOUT THE WORLD!
Part III: On to Boston
Once in Boston, we stayed at the Omni Parker House Hotel , which Daddy had picked because all sorts of famous authors had stayed there, including Charles Dickens and poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. There was all kinds of memorabilia in the lobby, such as a mirror that he used to prepare for readings of his works. Apparently, he would act out his dialogue, using wild gestures and strange facial expressions to make his characters come alive. He sounds like such an eccentric, taking long walks through Boston, wearing a brightly colored coat and a striped cravat and attracting all kinds of attention. He was part of a men's group called the Saturday Club that met at this hotel and included poet Ralph Waldo Emerson, novelist Nathaniel Hawthorne and writer Oliver Wendell Holmes Sr., the father of the Supreme Court justice.
Another neat thing about this hotel was that it was within walking distance of most of the more well-known historic sites in Boston. On Sunday morning, we visited a congregational church called Park Street Church just three blocks from our hotel. The setting for worship was sweet -- the historic building, the choir singing traditional hymns in harmony, a haunting French horn as we closed. Outside the window, I could see old crooked headstones in a cemetery, reminding me to focus on eternity. We liked the preaching fine and respected what this church seems to be trying to do in a very liberal area.
The history of the church is a noble one. Here is an excerpt from their website on how the church started:
"We hereby covenant and engage... to give up ourselves unto the Lord... to unite together into one body for the public worship of God and the mutual edification one of another in the fellowship of the Lord Jesus: exhorting, reproving, comforting and watching over each other, for mutual edification; looking for that blessed hope and the glorious appearing of ... our Savior Jesus." (from the park Street Church Articles of Faith and Government, adopted on Feb. 23, 1809)
"With these words, twenty-six charter members covenanted together to form Park Street Church.
In a time of increasing apostasy from the gospel and rising unitarianism in New England, a small group of devoted Christians, primarily form th Old South Church, formed a "Religious Improvement Society" in 1804 to hold weekly prayer meetings and lectures. Though they faced opposition from all sides, the group continued to meet for six years, founding Park Street Church in February of 1809."
Anyway, starting off our sightseeing with the timeless Truths of the Lord made all of the history we encountered even richer. We saw the Old South Meetinghouse, where they made plans for the Boston Tea Party; the Old Statehouse, outside whose doors five Americans were killed by British soldiers in 1870 -- the Boston Massacre. We walked past Faneuil Hall and cemeteries where Ben Franklin's parents, Sam Adams, William Dawes and pilgrim Mary Chilton were buried. Our walk ended at the Old North Church, where the two lanterns had been hung at the start of Paul Revere's famous ride to alert the minutemen.
The entire time we were walking the Freedom Trail in Boston, I was wishing you kids could see all that we were seeing. It just makes all the books that we have read about this time period come to life. To see it through your eyes would give me great joy.
But I am so grateful that the Lord gave Daddy and I this time to enjoy our marriage and each other. God has chosen to bless our marriage: Being with him fills me with deep, increasing joy. Nobody makes me laugh as hard as Daddy, nobody is as full of interesting perspectives and facts as him, and there is nobody I enjoy more. I am so thankful that that is the case. That is an amazing thing to me, after all these years. We just read in The Holiness of God that "what emerges in great art and great music is a depth of dimension that does not quickly become stale or trite... the piece tends to become more and more fascinating as you discover more intricate nuances to it." And I am so grateful that the Lord has chosen to make this marriage a thing of beauty. Objectively. You kids have been given a rare gift in having parents who have been inexplicably blessed in this way. It is nothing that we did, and we certainly didn't deserve it. This marriage is nothing but the grace of God. I thank the Lord that He gave that to us -- and also to you. May this anniversary celebration bring you as much joy as it does us and may this marriage be a picture that you will always carry in your heart -- a picture of Christ and His joyful, grateful bride. Always pray for the Lord protect our precious marriage and to use it to bring glory to His name.
Another neat thing about this hotel was that it was within walking distance of most of the more well-known historic sites in Boston. On Sunday morning, we visited a congregational church called Park Street Church just three blocks from our hotel. The setting for worship was sweet -- the historic building, the choir singing traditional hymns in harmony, a haunting French horn as we closed. Outside the window, I could see old crooked headstones in a cemetery, reminding me to focus on eternity. We liked the preaching fine and respected what this church seems to be trying to do in a very liberal area.
The history of the church is a noble one. Here is an excerpt from their website on how the church started:
"We hereby covenant and engage... to give up ourselves unto the Lord... to unite together into one body for the public worship of God and the mutual edification one of another in the fellowship of the Lord Jesus: exhorting, reproving, comforting and watching over each other, for mutual edification; looking for that blessed hope and the glorious appearing of ... our Savior Jesus." (from the park Street Church Articles of Faith and Government, adopted on Feb. 23, 1809)
"With these words, twenty-six charter members covenanted together to form Park Street Church.
In a time of increasing apostasy from the gospel and rising unitarianism in New England, a small group of devoted Christians, primarily form th Old South Church, formed a "Religious Improvement Society" in 1804 to hold weekly prayer meetings and lectures. Though they faced opposition from all sides, the group continued to meet for six years, founding Park Street Church in February of 1809."
Anyway, starting off our sightseeing with the timeless Truths of the Lord made all of the history we encountered even richer. We saw the Old South Meetinghouse, where they made plans for the Boston Tea Party; the Old Statehouse, outside whose doors five Americans were killed by British soldiers in 1870 -- the Boston Massacre. We walked past Faneuil Hall and cemeteries where Ben Franklin's parents, Sam Adams, William Dawes and pilgrim Mary Chilton were buried. Our walk ended at the Old North Church, where the two lanterns had been hung at the start of Paul Revere's famous ride to alert the minutemen.
The entire time we were walking the Freedom Trail in Boston, I was wishing you kids could see all that we were seeing. It just makes all the books that we have read about this time period come to life. To see it through your eyes would give me great joy.
But I am so grateful that the Lord gave Daddy and I this time to enjoy our marriage and each other. God has chosen to bless our marriage: Being with him fills me with deep, increasing joy. Nobody makes me laugh as hard as Daddy, nobody is as full of interesting perspectives and facts as him, and there is nobody I enjoy more. I am so thankful that that is the case. That is an amazing thing to me, after all these years. We just read in The Holiness of God that "what emerges in great art and great music is a depth of dimension that does not quickly become stale or trite... the piece tends to become more and more fascinating as you discover more intricate nuances to it." And I am so grateful that the Lord has chosen to make this marriage a thing of beauty. Objectively. You kids have been given a rare gift in having parents who have been inexplicably blessed in this way. It is nothing that we did, and we certainly didn't deserve it. This marriage is nothing but the grace of God. I thank the Lord that He gave that to us -- and also to you. May this anniversary celebration bring you as much joy as it does us and may this marriage be a picture that you will always carry in your heart -- a picture of Christ and His joyful, grateful bride. Always pray for the Lord protect our precious marriage and to use it to bring glory to His name.
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
My Faithful Friend
Before too much more time passes, I really want to record some thoughts about the trip last month to see Jeanie Hansen. What struck me the most was the picture of faithfulness that she held up for me. Father Warren, had a Ph.D. in biochemistry from St. Louis University, then taught at St. Louis U. and Purdue. In his late 40s, he left that life to go to an Episcopal seminary. They lived a life of such simplicity, selling their big home and living in what had been their vacation cabin in Cuba, Mo. They both worked so hard all of the time, but laughed often and were so full of joy. They showed me from the start of my Christian life that knowing God is all about great joy.
They also showed me what the Christian life is NOT about: the applause of men. When I first got saved, the Lord gave me a desire to go help at a nearby soup kitchen. I told Father Warren, and he looked at me with a twinkle in his eye and said, "That's good. Go, and do that. Just remember, only one of the ten lepers Jesus healed came back to thank Him." I had to laugh when the first day, I struggled with my huge cafeteria tray full of grilled cheese sandwiches and was greeted by a rather hostile , "Oh, I hate grilled cheese!" Now that's a good preparation for a life in ministry. And Father Warren had warned me ahead of time, so it was no surprise.
When I was visiting Jeanie, less than a month after losing the one she always called her "hubby", she was faithfully serving at the Food Pantry in Cuba, (probably encountering some ungrateful lepers in the lot), serving not to earn points for heaven but to paint a picture of Christ by giving to those in need.
Her faithfulness really hit home in another way when we spent time going through her old photo albums. She had saved every card or picture of my kids that I had ever sent her. She had hanging on her wall an ornament that I had given her 15 years ago. She had planted in her garden the potted mums that had decorated the altar the day John and I got married. I was touched and humbled to see just how much she had cherished even the smallest thing that I had sent her. I wished I had sent more.
Unconditional love like hers comes only from God. And I don't want to be an ungrateful leper. I thank God for giving me such a faithful woman who calls me one of her adopted daughters. I thank Him for the picture of His steadfast love, a picture of my Lord who, for some reason, cherishes each of my totally inadequate prayers and praise.
They also showed me what the Christian life is NOT about: the applause of men. When I first got saved, the Lord gave me a desire to go help at a nearby soup kitchen. I told Father Warren, and he looked at me with a twinkle in his eye and said, "That's good. Go, and do that. Just remember, only one of the ten lepers Jesus healed came back to thank Him." I had to laugh when the first day, I struggled with my huge cafeteria tray full of grilled cheese sandwiches and was greeted by a rather hostile , "Oh, I hate grilled cheese!" Now that's a good preparation for a life in ministry. And Father Warren had warned me ahead of time, so it was no surprise.
When I was visiting Jeanie, less than a month after losing the one she always called her "hubby", she was faithfully serving at the Food Pantry in Cuba, (probably encountering some ungrateful lepers in the lot), serving not to earn points for heaven but to paint a picture of Christ by giving to those in need.
Her faithfulness really hit home in another way when we spent time going through her old photo albums. She had saved every card or picture of my kids that I had ever sent her. She had hanging on her wall an ornament that I had given her 15 years ago. She had planted in her garden the potted mums that had decorated the altar the day John and I got married. I was touched and humbled to see just how much she had cherished even the smallest thing that I had sent her. I wished I had sent more.
Unconditional love like hers comes only from God. And I don't want to be an ungrateful leper. I thank God for giving me such a faithful woman who calls me one of her adopted daughters. I thank Him for the picture of His steadfast love, a picture of my Lord who, for some reason, cherishes each of my totally inadequate prayers and praise.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Pain, More Pain, Rage....Exuberance!
This month, my pinkie finger gave me some spiritual reminders. I broke it while tossing a football at Youth. I tried my best to ignore it the next day, but it kept throbbing and dangling in a weird way, forcing me to the Emergency Room. There, doctors and nurses seemed unperturbed by it, X-rayed it, declared it broken indeed, slapped a splint on it, and slapped a $100 charge on us -- increasing my fiscal pain while doing nothing to decrease my physical pain. The Lord made His comforting presence known in an incredible way when our church sent a totally unexpected check to cover the ER costs. But every day, I became more aware of my pinkie as the throbbing intensified. "When one part of the body suffers, the entire body suffers." Finally it so pervaded my thoughts that I made an appointment with an orthopedist. (Just as suffering drives us to the Great Physician, makes us aware of our desperate need.) This very human physician (whose greatness I sincerely doubted) looked at my pinkie, grabbed a hold of it without warning and twisted it violently toward my other fingers. Two loud snaps filled him with great glee: "Did you hear that? Did you hear that?" he asked me. I could barely hear HIM as the room started to go black. Later, I lay in the examining room, furious, crying, wondering whether this man even had a license to practice medicine. While that thought is fresh in my mind, he comes BACK in and forces the very top of my pinkie over "just to see," he says. This fills my soul with black rage, but I'm too weak and beaten to do what I want to: punch him. Instead I say, "Well, I guess I'm glad you didn't tell me ahead of time that you were going to do that." "You're welcome," he says, speaking as though from on high. I am speechless with indignation. I was NOT thanking him. I thought I was being gracious not to have kicked him. I leave with my whole hand feeling limp and useless. I go home and go right to sleep, totally exhausted -- but when I wake up-- my hand feels great! Suddenly I like the doctor very much. Doubt and rage became brokenness and submission ... bringing healing and glory to the healer.
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