Afton Rorvik's Blog, page 7

It Takes a . . .

The incessant pounding on our front door woke us at 2:30 A.M. on a Monday morning a few weeks ago. My thoughts raced to our kids. Were they okay? Had something happened that brought them to our doorstep from Ohio or Colorado?

Then I saw the police officer and heard her shout, “Get out of your house! And get your cars out of your garage!”

John handed me our dog, and I stumbled to the front lawn while he raced to back the cars out of the garage.

From my front lawn, in my bathrobe (!), I began to piece together the story.

Seems my neighbor happened to wake up around 2 A.M. and noticed a fire in the backyard of the house between us. A large shed had caught fire and flames were creeping up our back fence toward our garage. Julie called 911 and within minutes our street filled with emergency trucks and personnel. I’ve only seen more fire trucks at one time at our town’s annual Fourth of July parade.

Things don’t sink in immediately at early morning hours, but now, weeks later, it all seems more real, especially as I survey our burned fence and shrubs and the melted siding on the back of our garage.

         

Forgive me, writer-friends, but as I try to wrap my mind around this whole incident, this sentence comes to mind: “It takes a village.” I hate to use clichés. BUT it fits. Without the efforts and concern of so many people, we would have had a much more serious situation. Ultimately, we did not lose our house or our lives, nor did any of our neighbors. Our insurance will replace what did burn.

It takes a . . . neighbor who can’t sleep.

It takes a . . . bevy of emergency responders who also didn’t sleep.

It takes a . . . caring Fire Chief who noticed frightened little boys at 3 A.M. and took the time to reassure them.

It takes . . . people caring for people.

Connected living. What a life-sustaining gift! Literally.

 

 

Courage to Stay

This month the Redbud Post features pieces on grief and loss, including my story of Mom and her Storm Sisters.

http://www.redbudwritersguild.com/courage-to-stay/

Courage to Stay

May I invite you to read the May edition of The Redbud Post? Lots of heartfelt pieces here about grief and loss, including my own piece about Mom and her amazing Storm Sisters.

Read on.

http://www.redbudwritersguild.com/courage-to-stay/

Mom, the Cheerleader

As I think today about mothering and the many (figurative) hats my own brave mother wore over her lifetime, I also laugh about some of the titles I’ve laid claim to in my mothering tenure.

Mom, the Walking Dictionary

“Mom, how do you spell miscellaneous?” I smiled and rattled off the spelling, throwing in a free definition.

But then came a challenge, “Mom, how do you spell metamorphosis? I hesitated. When I suggested that my daughter check the dictionary, she reacted in disgusted shock. “But, Mom, then I would have to walk all the way upstairs!” (This was all so long ago that we did not have the Internet. We actually had to look things up in books. Can you remember way back then?!)

Mom, the Weather Forecaster

“Hey, Mom! What’s the weather today?”

If I had watched the news the night before, I spouted the statistics: “High sixty-nine, low forty-two, chance of rain showers.” I even offered apparel advice.

If I hadn’t watched the forecast, I confess that I sometimes faked it. (Again, remember that I did not have Siri to come to my rescue.) One day I assured my daughter that it would be cloudy and not above sixty degrees. She believed me. The day turned out to be almost eighty degrees. My long-sleeved, blue-jean clad, sweaty daughter frowned at me when I picked her up from school that day. “Mom, you said it would be sixty!”

Mom, the Finder of Lost Objects

“Mom, where is that little rock I picked up on the playground yesterday? I need it.” My budding archaeologist hadn’t yet checked his pockets or his backpack.

“Mom, where is my green watch?” This was the green watch that had beeped every hour for several days. Believe me, I wanted to find it too.

Sometimes, in total frustration at not being able to find an invaluable object, my children blurted out, “Mom, where did you put my __________?” Did they, I wonder, really think that while they sat in school, I ran around the house and hid their stuff? Apparently.

Mom, the Cheerleader

As my children now pursue their own lives outside our home, my days of spelling words, forecasting the weather, and finding lost objects have come to an end. Sometimes I miss those days. And some days I long to see that pile of shoes by the front door again. But then I remember that I do still have a Mom-title that matters: Mom, the Cheerleader. Funny! I never did the cheerleader thing in high school, opting instead for marching band. But now, I cherish my title as Mom, the Cheerleader. “I know you’ll make a good decision, I believe in you. I’m proud of you. I love you.”

Grateful! Happy Mother’s Day. 

Prayer?

Thursday marks the 65th National Day of Prayer. That number surprises me. I investigated the reason for the number and discovered this at www.nationaldayofprayer.org/about:

Since the first call to prayer in 1775, when the Continental Congress asked the colonies to pray for wisdom in forming a nation, the call to prayer has continued through our history, including President Lincoln’s proclamation of a day of “humiliation, fasting, and prayer” in 1863. In 1952, a joint resolution by Congress, signed by President Truman, declared an annual national day of prayer. In 1988, the law was amended and signed by President Reagan, permanently setting the day as the first Thursday of every May. Each year, the president signs a proclamation, encouraging all Americans to pray on this day.

You can watch more about the history of the day here at “Legacy of Prayer” on @Vimeo https://vimeo.com/112095201

All that begs the question: What do we do with this day? How do we pray?

Perhaps some of us grew up praying in the Shakespearean language of thee and thou. Others of us learned a formula for prayer, such as Adoration, Confession, Thanksgiving, Supplication. Still others may have adopted the practice of personalizing and praying through the Psalms.

Whatever the method, prayer ushers us into the presence of God and changes our hearts and lives in the process. What a gift!

Today seems like a perfect day to pass on to you a thoughtful blog about prayer written by my friend Sharla Fritz. You can, of course, find other ideas about how to pray, especially for our country, at http://www.nationaldayofprayer.org.

                                       

So many days God’s presence doesn’t seem apparent. Heavy gray clouds seem to hide His face. Loneliness keeps Him at arm’s length. Looming bills, sick kids, and work deadlines are more real than an invisible God.

And that’s why I love Examen. This spiritual practice helps me notice God in the ordinary and mundane. It’s a time of reflection that contemplates God’s nearness in the midst of frenzied schedules and numbing pain.There are many ways to practice Examen. Here is a method I find helpful:

Recognize God’s presence. Find a quiet place. Take a moment to close your eyes and quiet your thoughts. Remind yourself that God is with you in the moment. In Hebrews 13:5 the Lord promises, “I will never leave you, nor forsake you.”

Review your day. Ask the Holy Spirit to guide your thoughts as you replay the last twenty-four hours in your mind. Watch your life as if watching a video. Press the pause button when the Holy Spirit reveals God’s love for you or when He gently points out wrong thoughts or actions.

Respond to God’s leading. Where you now see God’s presence in a beautiful sunrise, the smile of a friend, or even a string of green lights when you were running late for an appointment—thank God for His gifts of love. Where you were at fault—ask for forgiveness and rest in God’s grace.

Not all days are filled with sunshine and stunning mountain scenery that make God feel close enough to touch. That’s why we need the practice of Examen. This time of reflection gives the Holy Spirit space to demonstrate God’s presence in the ordinariness of our days.

God is near.

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Sharla Fritz is a Christian author and speaker who makes her home in the Chicago suburbs with her amusing pastor husband. She is learning to find God’s nearness in the commonplace and everyday. If you want to find out more about Examen or other spiritual disciplines, check out her new book: Soul Spa: 40 Days of Spiritual Renewal. Or visit her website www.sharlafritz.com to get a free guide on creating your own personal spiritual retreat.

 

Surprised . . . Again

 

It happens every year. By now I shouldn’t feel surprised. But I did again this year.

Spring!

Getting out of the car to walk into a garden center on Saturday, I beamed at my good fortune to breath spring air again this year. Somehow every year I doubt that this season will actually come. I don’t say it out loud, but I live that way. I stay winter-hunkered-down, braced for below-zero temperatures. I wear layers and sensible, close-toed shoes.

Silly, right?

When I drill down a bit, I realize that I can all too often live this way in my soul. I brace myself for the inevitable blizzards of life; I wrap myself up in layers of self-protection; I take the sensible, non-risky route to decisions.

As C.S. Lewis said about Narnia in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, “It  is always winter but never Christmas.”

I go easily to winter of the soul. Perhaps you do too. Even those of you who live in warmer cities.

John and I have a ritual every spring: we put together our screened-in porch. We always scratch our heads and ask each other, “How did we put this together last year?” Last spring seems like a lifetime ago. And we always end up needing the help of at least one friend. (Thank you Robin, Bryan, and Becki.)

But as we put up the porch every spring, we also remember.

We remember High Tea with family and friends. A movie night with nieces. Heartfelt conversations with friends and family members. A silly birthday party for our dog. Afternoon naps while the birds chattered. A squirrel who hurled nuts at the roof. Two skunks who passed by on an evening stroll from our yard to our neighbor’s yard.

And remembering helps pull me firmly into spring, away from the gray hues of winter.

Recently, I’ve begun a remembering morning exercise for my soul. Every morning I open a journal and write down ten things for which I’m grateful. Some mornings I struggle. Other mornings, my pen flies down the page. Always I find that I smile. Joy starts to crowd out the winter-gray of my soul. I do, indeed, have much for which I’m truly grateful.

My gratitude list reminds me of this truth: “I remain confident of this: I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living” (Psalm 27:13, NIV).

Dear Lord, give me, give us all,  eyes to see your goodness and grateful hearts to celebrate it.

 

 

 

 

 

Shoes, Words, and Publishing

I have the shoes. Every new venture requires at least one new pair of shoes, right?

Today as you read this, my shoes and I have started a new venture. After many years of freelancing from my cozy, blue office, I will now work in an office with flesh-and-blood people.  And I will talk to them, not just to my Chief Furry Officer.

Many years ago a friend of mine dreamed a dream of starting a publishing company, and today that dream begins. A dream he shares with a good friend of his.

These two men gathered a little group of us together to help shape and execute their dream. Today we began to cast a vision, to talk to each other, to listen to each other, to trust each other’s wisdom and creativity. We began a publishing company. Yahoo!

We will strive to do it all with grace and humility and integrity. We love stories. We love authors. And we love Jesus.

Join me, would you, in welcoming Gilead Publishing to the world?

You can read more about us here: http://www.stevelaube.com/blog/

 

 

 

 

A Writing Assignment Gone Personal

I took the writing assignment before I knew the topic. When I actually found out the topic, I just had to laugh. I had agreed to write about worry. Yep. Five short, daily devotionals on worry. Why did I laugh? Because I’m not exactly the poster child for handling worry in a super-spiritual way. Truthfully, some days I feel as if I’m steps away from letting worry pull me under like a strong riptide.

But I wanted to keep my word. So I gathered books and commentaries and immersed myself in the passage I’d been given: Matthew 6:25-31. As an academic exercise, this was fun! I even learned about some Greek words.

But after a few days, I stashed my books and let myself marinate in the words I had read. I let the ideas wash over me and asked God to open my eyes and teach me through these words.

I also admitted to God and to myself that I have a tendency to worry. I know it doesn’t do anything good in my life, but I still do it. Kind of like an addiction really. Ouch!

Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes?   Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?   Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?

And why do you worry about clothes? See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin.   Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these.   If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith?   So do not worry, saying, “What shall we eat?” or “What shall we drink?” or “What shall we wear?” For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them.   But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of it own. (Matthew 6:25-31)

Matthew 6:25 gives me some clues about things that cause worry: money, food, drink, and clothing. Necessities of life, right? So what causes me to worry in regard to these things? Good question.

As I thought and wrote, I began to see that my worry comes largely from putting second things first. Money, clothes, even food can so easily become my daily focus. So can wanting respect from other writers.

The more I linger on these topics, the more I stay in the worry loop. My pastor would call that a “worship disorder.” I get mixed up and worship the little gods of financial stability, high regard of friends and colleagues. . . .  And when I do it, I don’t feel any better.

But when I turn away from what I think I want and turn instead to stare at God through His words in my favorite book (The Bible) and listen to music that celebrates God, then I truly do feel better. And I seem to be able to shut down the worry loop. Truly.  

How thankful I am for this writing assignment gone personal. I needed to think long and hard about worry.

Want to join me in God’s classroom today and make time to think and pray about what worries you? If you’re brave, ask God to help you trace those worries back to something or someone other than God whom you have made the focus of your life. 

If you want to read the rest of my writing assignment, you can find it here: http://wheatonbible.org/resources/devotional/the-stuff-of-worry/

And if you want to listen to some music that will draw your heart back to God and away from what worries you, join me on this Pandora Storm Sister Soundtrack: http://www.pandora.com/station/play/1139667308769314118

 

 

 

 

 

 

Friendship Starts with C

 

Yes, I do know how to spell. And, no, I’m not having a “senior moment.” But I did recently discover a fun list in a book (Friends of the Heart: Growing Friendships that Last Forever by Emilie Barnes and Donna Otto, p. 26) that connected friendship with the letter C. Just can’t resist sharing some of these C words with you.

Caring, Catalysts, Celebration, Cherished, Chocolate, Chumminess, Coffee,

Collegiality, Comfort,  Commonality, Communication, Concern, Connection,

Consistency, Continuity, Contribution, Counsel, Courtesy

Perhaps one of those words jumped off the page at you. I landed on the word collegiality. Word-nerd that I am, I love the way it sounds as it rolls off my tongue. And I love that I had to look up what it means because I don’t use it every day. Here is what I discovered from yourdictionary.com:

the sharing of authority among colleagues
the principle that authority is shared by the pope and the bishops
considerate and respectful conduct among colleagues or an atmosphere, relationship, etc. characterized by this

I can’t pretend to have the expertise to address the authority shared by the pope and bishops, but I do want to muse a bit about the definition of the word collegiality as it relates to friendship. I must be all wrapped up in C words because I immediately think of two of them that help clarify the meaning of collegiality by defining what it is NOT.

A collegial (considerate, respectful) relationship between friends seems to leave no room for another C word: Competitiveness.

Collegiality suggests, “Let’s build something, do something, together” rather than saying, “Let’s both do this and see who can do it faster and better.”

A collegial (considerate, respectful) relationship between friends also seems to leave no room for another C word: Control.

Collegiality suggests, “Let’s talk this through and come up with a solution we can both embrace” rather than saying, “You need to do this my way. It is the best way.”

Enough of the word-nerd musings. Let’s make this practical. What does collegiality look like in flesh-and-blood relationships?

I think back to my days of sitting at my mother’s bedside and watching her “700 friends” surround her in her last days on this earth. They did not need to prove who cared for her best. They did not demand to run the show and tell doctors and family what needed doing. They listened to Mom and tried to honor her desires. They listened to me and my brothers and tried to honor our wishes for mom in her dying days. They made dying a group effort—a beautiful, choreographed dance of sorts.

No wonder I’m drawn to that word: collegiality. I lived it.

Grateful!

Do You Want to Come With?

This week the Monday blog becomes a Tuesday blog so I can share with you a piece I have up at (in)courage.me today.

We midwesterners have a fondness for breaking a particular grammar rule. We love to ask: Do you want to come with?

My word-nerd self knows that we should never utter a question that ends with a preposition. Every preposition needs a partner, an object of the preposition. We really should ask, “Do you want to come with me?”

For a long time I resisted this grammatically incorrect trend and completed my question properly in true, former-English-teacher style.

But, true confession, I’ve started to rethink my grammatically correct position. It all comes down to that little word with. I think I have developed a “thing” for it.

You can read the rest of the blog here:  http://www.incourage.me/?p=176905.

While you are there, I encourage you to sign up to receive the (in)courage daily blog:www.incourage.me/subscribe.  This is one of my favorite blogs and full of great articles about life, friendship, and faith.