Tag: God

Sunday Funnies: April 16

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A re-run of my dad’s humor cards. They make me chuckle all over again – so I hope you enjoy them whether it’s the first time or second (first posted on 3/6/22).

The backstory: My dad was a Presbyterian pastor for 40 years. He kept a well curated stack of humor cards – little stories he heard, found or saw and then typed onto 5×7 cards. Then he wrote in the margins when he used that particular item. His humor was often an easy way to settle in to something deeper – by laughing and thinking about the buried truth in these little nuggets, it paved the way to an open heart.

Children’s Letters to God

“Dear God, how do you feel about people who don’t believe in you. Somebody else wants to know. A friend, Neil.”

“Dear God, Are you real? Some people don’t believe in you. If you are, you better do something quick. Harriet Ann.”

“Dear God, count me in. Your friend, Herbie.”

And once again I have a late addition to my dad’s list. The other evening, I was pushing both my kids in a stroller up a steep Seattle hill. We were making steady but slow progress because the combined weight of the kids and the stroller is 100+ pounds, when I heard my daughter say:

“Hi God, It’s me, O, with my mom and brother. We love you. Thanks for helping us with our lives. A little help goes a long way. Please help my mom with the hill. She needs it.”

Sunday Funnies: March 6

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Another installment from my dad’s humor cards.

The backstory: My dad was a Presbyterian pastor for 40 years. He kept a well curated stack of humor cards – little stories or observations that he typed onto 5×7 cards. Then he wrote in the margins when he used that particular item. His humor was often an easy way to settle in to something deeper – by laughing and thinking about the buried truth in these little nuggets, it paved the way to an open heart.

When we cleaned out his desk after he died 7 years ago, I was lucky enough to stumble on this stack. I pull it out regularly to have a little laugh with my dear Dad. Now when I post one of them, I write my note next to his and it feels like a continuation.

Children’s Letters to God

“Dear God, how do you feel about people who don’t believe in you. Somebody else wants to know. A friend, Neil.”

“Dear God, Are you real? Some people don’t believe in you. If you are, you better do something quick. Harriet Ann.”

“Dear God, count me in. Your friend, Herbie.”

And once again I have a late addition to my dad’s list. The other evening, I was pushing both my kids in a stroller up a steep Seattle hill. We were making steady but slow progress because the combined weight of the kids and the stroller is 100+ pounds, when I heard my daughter say:

“Hi God, It’s me, O, with my mom and brother. We love you. Thanks for helping us with our lives. A little help goes a long way. Please help my mom with the hill. She needs it.”

It’s Love Calling

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“Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.” – Lao Tzu

To some degree I always write about what I don’t understand in hopes that the words on the page will put some order to the giant gaping hole of the mysteries that I can’t comprehend.

But today I’m writing about a bigger mystery than usual. The best I can hope for with these words is just to describe the size and shape of something that I can’t fully grasp.

The other day my phone rang. I’m notorious for not answering my phone especially when, as was the case here, it’s just a number and not attached to anyone in my contact list. So I didn’t answer, there was no voice mail. It rang again, there was no voice mail. It rang again an hour later from the same number. I knew in my bones after the second call who it was so the third time I picked it up.

It was my friend Bill and he just said, “Wynne” in this deep voice that sounds like it could be the voice of God. And I replied, “I knew it was you calling.”

This friend only calls me about once every five years. When he calls, it’s always from a new number so it never comes up as a name. And yet, somehow I always know it’s him.

In the five years since he last called, I had another baby, my son. And he’s moved twice to different countries. Now he lives halfway around the world in Eastern Europe.  

I ask him about his parents who I’ve never met. He tells me through tears that he lost both of them 7 months apart a couple years back. He asks me about work and I tell him I’m doing the same thing — it doesn’t feed my soul but it feeds my kids. So I tell him that I’m writing.

In worldly terms, we don’t know each other that well.  We’ve maybe spent a dozen days together over 25 years. But we have this deep connection that was instantly apparent when we met.

It’s something I can only describe in metaphors. The connection is like plugging into a bolt of lightening when you only need a 200 amp current. The results are apt to blow a circuit and also are a little dangerous. It’s a mistake we made when we were younger and tried dating only to find it chaotic and unworkable. He’s a road sign, not a destination.

When he calls it’s always at a point when I’ve gotten so busy playing the roles I have in life that I’ve forgotten that there is a core, central “me” that is lovable.

The calls remind me to come alive in a way that is more than what I do. They speak to me of great love even though its quite clear that we will never be in each other’s lives on a daily basis. It’s more that we share the same core so when he calls it sparks some primal memory in me to remember to take care of that precious center of my life. The sacred space in me that touches the sacred space in others.

The connection we share is inexplicable in practical terms. There should be no way that we can speak so deeply to each other and be a reminder of anything. The only thing that rings true is that it’s a spiritual connection that affirms that God is Love and Love is God.

In the end, I said to him. “Thank you for calling until I picked up.” And he replied, “I will always call you until you pick up.”

I’ll close with the final text he sent me after the call. I had written to him, “I suspect possible in our comprehension is a small sample of what is truly possible in the Universe. And you are evidence of that gift.”

And he replied, “That I am the evidence that is closely related to the everything that you must give daily, is the best of compliments. You, Wynne, creator, inventor, leader and human are truly one of the most beautiful humans I know! Thank you for finding me.”

I bet that we won’t communicate again for another 5 years. And that will be enough. Because maybe what we remind each other of isn’t anything about the specifics in life, it’s the big picture Life where love reigns and we are all known in our core.

Checking for Help

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“If you were waiting for a sign, this is it.” – unknown

Last week I was stressed because my biggest client was 35 days late in paying their invoice for July. I’ve been self-employed for 20 years so it’s not the first time I’ve had a situation like this. I’ve learned on my side, I need to make sure it isn’t an indication of a problem with my relationship with the client and work. If everything is okay and it’s just a payment issue on their side, I’m pretty good at weathering the storm and not worrying about it too much.

So I was fine for the first 2 weeks the payment was late.

But by the 3rd week it was late, I’d started to check the mailbox a few times a day and when on one of those days, an envelope came from my health insurance provider, I ignored it and set it unopened on my desk.

When the 4th week started, I was spending a lot of meditation time both trying to acknowledge and dissipate the stress and praying to the Universe to end the wait.

By the 5th week, I was in a low-grade panic – I’d managed to pay all my commitments but I was down to $14 in my checking account.

Finally the payment came. It was only AFTER it came that I opened the envelope from the health insurance company and found that they’d sent me an unexpected rebate. I’d had a check sitting on my desk for TWO weeks while I sweated out the payment from my client.

It reminds me of the story about a man who gets caught in a flood and is stuck inside his house. He prays for God to save him and while he’s praying, the phone rings. It’s the fire department asking if he needs to be rescued. He answers, “No, I’m sure God is coming to save me.” A little while later after the flood waters have risen even more so he’s hanging out his 2nd story window, some neighbors come by in a boat and ask if he needs help. He replies, “No, I’m sure God is coming to save me.” Finally the flood water is so high that he’s up on his roof and a helicopter comes by and offers to evacuate him. He yells, “No, I’m sure God is coming to save me.”

After he drowns and goes to Heaven, he asks God, “Why didn’t you save me?” And God replies, “I called you, I sent a boat for you and flew in a helicopter to get you but you wouldn’t come.”

The whole experience makes me wonder if life is simply a process of removing our self-imposed blinders. Note to self: when asking for help, be open to any package it might come in, not just the one I expect.

(Photo from Pexels)

I Had a Dream

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“Take the first step in faith. You don’t have to see the whole staircase. Just take the first step.” – Martin Luther King Jr.

I had a dream last night that was so clear. I was scheduled to preach in a church and while I was practicing my sermon, I became so late that I couldn’t shower or even dress for the sermon. Someone called and asked “where are you?” and I had to just go on undressed, unwashed, holding my baby who was crying and preaching from the heart that “God has a plan. And if you don’t listen, you end up here, unshowered and undressed, holding your baby and living it out. God has a plan, and if you don’t hear it in the whispers, you will bow to it’s shouts. God has a plan and the only thing you have to do is get on your knees and listen.” I told the story of how I asked my beloved dad when he was 78 years old the question of how he seemed to go through life without any speed bumps and his answer was “obedience.” He told me that he at each point in his life when he was in doubt felt God’s hand guiding him and just tried to follow, sometimes hesitantly and sometimes boldly. I told the story of listening to an Oprah Soul Sunday podcast where she talked about listening to the whispers that we hear because if we don’t, the voice gets increasingly louder. I told the story of how I was practicing a sermon I’d written – but it was from the head and so circumstances forced me to show up and deliver what I knew from my heart. I pointed at my baby and said “God has a plan for him at his age” and pointed at a 93-year-old friend in the audience “and God has a plan for her at her age and for all of us in between.”

I’m neither a theologian nor a preacher – my dad was. I don’t usually remember my dreams or put great store in them. But this dream had the ring of Truth so that even in writing about it, I get a shiver of respect. It brings together many things I’ve heard over the last few months and made them fit. Bishop Michael Curry talking about “thin places” as moments when the Truth of God is somehow more apparent and accessible. Poet Nikki Giovanni talking about her belief that nothing in our lives is wasted. That “you are always taking what ingredients you are given and making what you can make. My grandmother didn’t waste. There was nothing that came into her kitchen that she didn’t find a use for. I feel the same way about experience and words.” Rev. Dr. Scott Dudley asking “How big is your God? Is he bigger than your worries?” All three of these things slot into place with the essence of this dream. That somehow all my worries – about my kids going back to school, the details of my work, the how of my life, the fears that I will never fall in love again – get packed into a manageable box. That the only thing I have to do is live into this faith that all the good, bad and the ugly fits into a plan. And there is something bigger than myself, God, that is weaving it together. All I have to do is listen.

I write this to you because I’ve struggled with this all of my life. First as a child believing without question but also without substance. Then in my 30’s not really giving faith much of a thought at all and suffering because deep down I knew there was more to life. And now in my 50’s when it seems like I am continually having a-ha moments that bring my faith, experience and the patterns of life together so that it all makes sense – to my head and my heart. I write this to you because whether you believe and feel the jolt of affirmation or don’t believe and store the words away until some time in the future when they are ripe for you, I feel it is every individual’s job to speak the Truth of their own life. Because God has a plan and all we have to do is listen.