GGG Unplugged: "Welcome To Our World"

Brought to you live via GGG Kitchen Cam, it's my first attempt at recording music to broadcast via the internet. You guys had better enjoy this while it's still free! I mean, seriously, when I'm packing out stadiums and stuff, you all will be able to remember back to when I was putting music out there for free... Oh, wait... it's not my song... Crap! Can't charge for it! haha... Oh well. Wishful thinking I suppose.

Yes, I know part of my head is cut off and the audio lacks much to be desired, but if any of you would like to contribute to the "Launch GGG's In-Home Musical Studio" fund, you just let me know and I'll tell you to whom to make out your check! Until I at least get a tripod, this is the best I got.

I'd like to do these a lot more often; I don't know why it never occurred to me before to do a musical post. So many writers, such as the featured Chris Rice, pinpoint exactly the thoughts going through my head and the prayers whispered in my heart. So hopefully, when I don't have the time to knock out some "amazing" verbage, I will remember to do one of these.

Why this song? Well, for many reasons. Advent is a time of preparation. We prepare our homes to offer hospitality to friends and family. We prepare gifts as gestures of our love toward others. Spiritually, we prepare our hearts by considering the Christmas story and its significance. We intentionally mull over the connection between the manger and the cross. We prepare the world for Christ's return by feeding the hungry, clothing the poor, and giving more generously than we have given over the past year, expecting nothing in return.

This song reminds us why we need Messiah to fill that manger. Our souls hunger, our world reels and aches with toil and strife. We wade through life, wondering when we may welcome Jesus back into our world once again. Really, we welcome Him back into our world every day as we wake up to face the day and all that will transpire. He is truly with us, watching over in times of peril and rejoicing in times of mirth. May our lives be lived as songs of praise, welcoming Jesus to our world anew every day.

Holiday Hope

"There is a past which is gone forever, but there is a future which is still our own." -- F.W. Robertson

I just have to take a moment to gloat a little. Today is my rockin'-est day of December yet. Got kids off to school this morning, had my hot coffee in hand. We woke up to a day that was already 30 degrees colder than predicted. Seriously, I think our high temperature yesterday was 79 or 80 degrees! Who needs Hawai'i for Christmas when you could take a gamble on Texas?!? At any rate, I got home, put on all my uber-cold weather gear, wrapped my pipes, pulled all of the old, mostly dead plants out of my garden and built a fire in the fireplace. Even as I sit here with my steaming cup of homemade apple cider, I can hear the crackle of the dry pecan wood over the Amy Grant Christmas CD playing. The high temperature for the day was 39 degrees, around 0730 this morning. Temperatures have been dropping slightly all morning, and you can just tell that the thick, grey clouds overhead are pregnant with moisture. What I wouldn't give for some snow!

Speaking of which, this winter storm charging across the midwest reminds me of our first Christmas at FT Riley, Kansas. This Texas felt as if surely Christ were hovering above the horizon, threatening to return -- it was just ungodly cold and snowy for what seemed like years (really just four solid months -- but still!).

I digress. Christmas cards got sent last week. Three out of four PLMA papers have been typed, proofread, and submitted as of today, the original deadline. I've got chili simmering in the crockpot, and I just finished making cookie dough so that the kids can help me bake and decorate our cheap economical Christmas gifts for teachers. I've got all but one last Christmas gift bought and paid for, but I still have wrapping left to do.

Either way, I'm unusually chipper for this time of year. What's up, GGG? Did you put a little Captain Morgan's in that "apple" cider? This just isn't like you! No duh -- I've even surprised myself! Hahaha...

I've actually been mulling over this post now since 10 DEC. I was in the kitchen over at the sink, and looked up long enough to read the quote on my "Home Sweet Home In Family, In Nation, In God" calendar. The quote I fell upon, posted up above, really struck a chord with me, and I wanted to pay that forward to you, The Readership.

We won't even get into all of the problems in the world. I started a short list in my last post that couldn't even cover the tip of the iceberg. When I read this quote, however, I didn't think about anyone else's problems. I selfishly thought of my own. Of course, my thoughts naturally jumped right to losing T. As anyone who specifically loses a spouse, you grieve not just the loss of your mate, and hopefully best friend as was my case, but you also grieve the loss of your future together -- you grieve raising your children together, rediscovering your romance once the nest is empty, seeing each other through health scares and taking care of each other as you prepare to look Homeward. You grieve the loss of children you will never give birth to. For me, I also grieved the loss of the military lifestyle and watching my husband work diligently to earn rank and change jobs and grow as a father. You grieve the loss of being grandparents together. Am I making my point? There are just so many things you can't even think of until you're a little down the road and they smack like big juicy bugs on the windshield of your life. Then you just look at it, crestfallen, and think, "Crap." I'm sure that people who lose children grieve the loss of seeing them grow up, find careers, fall in love and marry, and watching them blossom into the adults you always prayed they would be. I cannot know for sure since that has not been a part of my life. Either way, memories are bittersweet and can cause as much anguish as they do laughter and nostalgic smiles. All you have is the past -- you no longer have a future with this person.

Then my thoughts jumped to my extended family situation. Maybe many of you have been in this position. My grandparents are having issues associated with growing older and reaching a different, difficult stage in life that affects everyone who knows and loves them. There is a lot of musing about how quickly things have changed, how things used to be, and what on earth the future will look like. The grief process has likely begun for some in my family who live far away and see the changes more starkly because they cannot be around to see the gradual progression of life. For them, I think an entire chapter is over and another begun, not necessarily one that is pleasant but rather is part of the natural course of human life. For those of us who live locally, we see the pages turning one or two at a time, but to others who live further away it might seem like reading the first few pages of the chapter and then skipping fifty pages to the next chapter. For all of us, it makes us realize how blessed our past has been with these two precious people and how we long to return to those days when we were all younger, vital, and thriving. But the fact remains that we can't regress to the past.

No matter if you grieve the loss of a loved one, if you have lost your job, if you have fallen out of love with your spouse or you are awaiting news from the doctor regarding your health, there is a past which we all might look back on and realize that it slipped right by us. This can be oppressive at the holidays. No wonder suicide statistics are higher at this time of year. We all need to allow ourselves to take time -- time for rest, time to eat well, time to reflect and pray, time to cry or be angry. These are things that are necessary, not only to keep us sane, but even to keep our bodies healthy. However, it's easy to get stuck there and bog down. We've got to allow ourselves that time of addressing our burdens, a time of healing, and a time of moving forward.

C'mon, GGG, what about Jeremiah 29:11? Don't you know that's the perfect verse here?? Yeah, whatever. That verse used to give me fits. "Oh, really? God has a future and a hope for me? Mmm, yeah, he's got a jacked up way of showing that." As terrible as that sounds, I needed to get to that dark place, the bottom of the pit of despair before I could not look any lower -- I could only look Upward. Only then could I really appreciate how God could act in my life and come to treasure Jeremiah 29:11.

As I wallowed in my muck for a little while, I recalled something I had heard Thelma Wells of Women of Faith fame talk about at an old conference. She gave a personal testimony about a long string of hardships she and her family had endured through the years, and she turned it around with Lamentations 3:22-23:

"22Through the LORD’s mercies we are not consumed, because His compassions fail not. 23 They are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness." (NKJV)

Or better yet, read how The Message paraphrases vv. 22-24:

"God's loyal love couldn't have run out, his merciful love couldn't have dried up. They're created new every morning. How great your faithfulness! I'm sticking with God (I say it over and over). He's all I've got left."

After I claimed that as a promise, then Jeremiah 29:11 was less of a bitter pill to swallow. There was, indeed, a future ahead of me, a future I could pursue and take hold of, own for myself. If I already knew God to be consistent and faithful, why would he not uphold this promise, too? I had to come to terms with the fact that the future and hope I had originally envisioned was gone, but that didn't mean that there was not another, completely different, completely wonderful future ahead of me.

The past is just that, and we can't live there. We can dust it off and revisit it, but there is a future ahead of us. It may not look like we planned, but there is a tomorrow. That future waits for us to get up, get moving, and claim it with God's help. That is my Christmas gift to you -- to encourage you to move forward, one small step at a time.

Quick Reflection

"So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal." -- II Corinthians 4:18

This is the Bible verse on my desk calendar for November 30. This is a date that is etched on my heart forever. For me, it is my 9/11. That is T.'s birthdate into heaven. Really, I struggle with that day and the day before, which is when he had the accident on the motorcycle, but that's a completely different blog. This verse really captures my view of what happened that day in the surgical ICU in LSU Medical Center in Shreveport, Louisiana, and it's something I need to remind myself of more often.

I didn't blog anything on November 30, not because I was avoiding it or dreading it or planning some uber-emotional tribute. We were out at the cemetery laying a wreath that day, with the cold, damp late fall wind whipping our hair around, musing about how long it had been, how fast the time has gone and yet how it has seemed to go so slowly at the same time. I'm learning that, as Heath Ledger's widow has lamented, the longer T. is gone, the more I miss him. Strangely enough, it hasn't kept me from embarking on a deep, sweet love with R., which is God's working in and of itself. In fact, when R. showed up for the holidays, I could just feel every muscle in my body relax and my blood pressure go down. It was so comforting to see the continuity in my life that he brings and how he allows me to both go on loving T. but yet move forward with my life with him. As stressed out and emotional as I get, I know that all my complexities can be exhausting, but he loves me through it and comes back for more.

But back to Shreveport, 2005. I didn't have the extensive mental Scripture file that some of my friends have, but I knew this verse. I couldn't have told you the book, chapter, or verse, but I understood this truth in my heart. When I realized that T. was gone, not breathing, not going to open his eyes any more, not going to sit up and complain about having to eat spaghetti one more time, or fight back to good health, my thinking had to shift immediately from temporal to eternal. To consider the temporal without T. was to want to reach into his chest and pump his heart with my own bare hands to make it work again. I could not dwell on this because I would have begged for death myself. Instead, I know that God had already planted the seed of eternity in my heart -- I instantly had to look beyond where I was, standing over the body that no longer contained the soul and let him go. I actually had to tell him this, that he needed to go. In looking back, he was already gone and I would realize this when piecing together details after my brain was functioning somewhat normally later on. But for me, I had to put him into that eternal context to keep from caving in on myself.

Flashing forward to Advent 2008, I reconnected with a college buddy last night on FaceBook who had not heard of T.'s passing, and it obviously came as a real shock to him. I remember telling my friend Marily about this last year, and she was completely speechless as well. And even just last week, HisGirl was watching Super Nanny and was just floored by the episode involving a widow with a two year-old and a five month-old, which is almost exactly the ages Li'l G and Bud were when T. died. It was a real eye opener for her on what our reality is like, especially with such little ones in the picture. What's amazing to me is that I have come through any of this, and now this feels normal, if such a bland, descriptionless word could ever be used in this context. I have no idea how I have made it this long, and still have no idea how any single day in the future will transpire. All I know is this: having an eternal perspective has everything to do with it.

Consider this: Our economy is as fragile as a glass Christmas ornament. Terrorism is a constant threat. People die every day in tragic ways, and more still are diagnosed with terminal illnesses. Millions of people in our own country sleep under blankets of cardboard in sub-freezing temperatures. Children starve and are abused. In my own life, I have certain ideas on how I'd like things to play out, but there are no guarantees. To live with our focus on the temporal is overwhelming, at least to me. Even the wonderful glimpses we get of beauty and love are not enough to get me by. To live with an eye on the eternal is where I draw my strength and my hope. It helps me to get past all of the pain and hurt in the world, in my own life, and to keep walking toward the One I know to be faithful, the One constant in a world filled with variables. "How do I know this?" I have been asked countless times. To be honest, you can read your Bible or not; I don't really care about that. All I can say is that God has been there for me, revealed to me in real and tangible ways that honestly speaks louder to me than Scripture. Hang me up to dry if you want. I read my Bible as often as I can and revel in its words, but there is absolutely nothing like experiencing, really experiencing, the peace which passeth all understanding in real life. There is nothing like knowing that the same God which brought his people out of Egypt and cared for them in the wilderness for 40 years is caring for me in the midst of my wilderness. There is nothing like knowing that the same God who bodily resurrected my Jesus has my sweet T. in his care right now and has made him whole, healed his broken heart and body, and is guiding the kids and me all at the same time. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I've not read any passage of Scripture that says he will take away our pain if we just pray or come to him. What God does promise is that he will never leave or forsake us. He is there if we keep our eyes on the eternal and don't let the temporal distract us.

As I prepare in my home and in my heart for the birth of Jesus, I think of Him in a tempral perspective, and it brings a lump to my throat. This precious, soft, sweet child is our sacrificial Lamb. Those tiny little fingers and toes will end up bearing Jesus' physical weight and the spiritual weight of our sins on the cross someday. How sad! How tragic! But in an eternal perspective, it inspires awe. This baby boy, through the love and nurture of his earthly parents, grows up and maintains His obedience to the Father. The story begins with the stirrings in the womb, continues through the labor pains, infancy, toddlerhood, life as the son of a carpenter, radical ministry that ends with His death on the cross, and is still continuing at the right hand of the Father. Why wouldn't we want to focus on the eternal in this picture?

This may sound crazy and hair-brained, and I'll give you that, but it has everything to do with how I understand my world, how my perspective has changed and continues to do so. I have got my eyes fixed like a laser past the end of my temporal existence to one that is eternal. It gives me hope and strength to march on with purpose in situations where I cannot comprehend uncertainty, grief, suffering, or even evil in the world. And even as I try my hardest to speak light and life and live what I believe, I still pray constantly, "Even so, come, Lord Jesus!"

May that also be our prayer as we journey toward Christmas and, ultimately, Resurrection Day!

Christmas Thoughts

I've got so many things on my plate right now this minute that I shouldn't even be posting, but this song has really touched my heart this season.

I promise to be up and posting soon... Enjoy this song -- it really speaks my heart...