Lord, it's Hard to Be Humble

"Put on then, as God's chosen ones, holy and beloved, compassionate hearts, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience," Colossians 3:12

The word "humility" is what's standing out to me today. See that foot all wrapped up in that boot? I had surgery on Friday and since then I've been dependent on others around me to do just about everything for me. There's a certain amount of humility required for that, especially for Type A's like me. 

When I was growing up in the 70s, singer Mac Davis released a song that we loved to sing in my family. 

You get the idea.
Now let's look at the rest of that verse from Colossians. "Compassion" also jumps out, because those surrounding me have been incredibly compassionate, from the doctor to the nurses to my family and friends. I'm blessed. And finally, there's "patience." God help me with that one. Accepting the kindess of others, being patient with life's challenges and not freaking out when I pass a mirror (day three without a shower), forces me to be humble. And I'm doing the best that I can. 

Prayers for Harriet

     The first time I met my mother-in-law I passed out in a snowbank, not once, but three times. It was January in 1981. Cliff brought me home from Williston to Fargo to meet his parents. We traveled on a train in the dead of winter. I think the temperature was 20 below zero, perhaps colder. After a long day I fell asleep while watching TV and I remember waking up feeling hot and disoriented. I decided the thing to do was to go outside, which I did. The next thing I knew, Cliff was lifting me up off the ground. I had snow on my face and in my hair. He had run outside when he saw me go out the door and he was standing barefoot in the snow, hopping on one foot and then the other.
     "What happened?" I wanted to know. He wasn't sure. Truthfully, he hadn't known me very long at that point. But he asked me if I was alright and I said yes, so he let go and back down into the snowbank I went. Again, he picked me up, again asked me if I was alright and again I said yes, so he dashed back inside to grab his boots. When he returned moments later I was once again face down in the snowbank.
     I would guess that the problem was nervousness combined with extreme temperature changes, from being too warm to suddenly being too cold. Whatever caused me to faint, I think I made his mother wary. She wasn't sure if I was on drugs, or was a closet alcoholic or what. She was always kind, but for months I sensed a bit of nervousness where I was concerned.
     I wanted her to like me, so I set out on a mission to woo her, beginning with her main joy and hobby. I asked her to teach me to knit. That's really all it took. We sat side by side for hours on end, working on simple projects at first, before graduating to the more complicated. From there we graduated to scrapbooking and finally to quilting. I had found the doorway into her heart, and what a big heart she has.
     Tonight that heart is struggling. Harriet is in the hospital fighting off congestive heart failure and possibly pneumonia. Please pray for her.

A Shared Experience -- Comments on the Thirst Conference 2016

Several days have passed now since I attended the Thirst Conference in Bismarck. I wanted to attend to sell books, let's be honest, but I got much more out of it than I expected. I did wear my "vendor" name tag, but I also got a chance to hear great speakers and to visit with like-minded people of faith. I soaked up the marvelously positive attitude, not only of attendees, but also of the exhibitors who surrounded me.

There was Br. Jacob, a Benedictine monk from the Richardton Abbey, who always (and I mean always) had an impish grin on his face. We discussed the reasons why silence and perhaps a weekend at the Abbey might do me good.

There was Sr. Mary, who was a family doctor on a recruiting mission for her order, decked out in a traditional floor-length habit that allowed her to sweep by with a particular grace, almost as if she were floating. That was like a page out of my childhood memory book, when my schoolmates and I would speculate on what they were really wearing under those robes.

And Fr. Benny, who described what it's like to have somebody hold a gun to his head and yet experience the feeling of peace that comes from knowing God was caring for him, regardless of what happened. "I can only call it bliss," he told me. Not that he wanted to die, just that he didn't fear it, and what a comfort that was.

There were the dozens of people who shared their family stories with me as I sat at my table signing books. I guess if you write a book called Gift of Death it's not surprising that people want to share those final moments they've had with loved ones. Some came with tears in their eyes, looking for comfort. Some were looking to comfort others. But I believe I'm the one who received the greatest gift -- the love that flowed all weekend long. I really felt there were no strangers there and I can't wait for the next Thirst Conference to come around.