Birthdays and Deathdays

A year ago today, a friend of mine died from liver cancer. He was 23.

My birthday is coming up. The big 2-5--A quarter of a century!

As my heart ached today remembering Peder and what today represented, I started smiling. On earth we count birthdays. The trend is to agonize over the next year. Western cultures war against nature and *gasp* getting OLD. Each year we mark down one more year finished. One less to live. One closer to death. We're terrified of death.

Peder just had his 1 year birthday in heaven. The neat thing...he's not counting down anymore. Heaven is forever. ETERNITY. One down, eternity to go. NO BIG DEAL. How exciting is that?! Forever with Jesus. In his presence. Adoring Him. At HOME with HIM. My heart beats faster just thinking about it. 

I AM FROM

I have a Curriculum and Instruction class on Tuesdays and Thursdays that I really don't enjoy very much. My disdain for the course is largely due to a) the fact that the class is from 3:40-5PM b) the subject matter seems pointless/common sense and c) the frequent use of markers, games, and other elementary type activities often frustrates me.

The other day we had the option to get 4% extra credit on our exam if we wrote a poem. Typical Anna fashion, I scoffed at the assignment labeling it as "lame" but knew I'd do since I have a hard time passing up the chance for extra points. The assignment was pretty specific-- to do an "I am from" poem addressing sights/sounds/phrases/smells etc of where we're from. To be creative within that paradigm. 

Then I started writing...I loved it. Thinking of imagery that described the heart of who I am and what my family is. Working within specific questions to give a complete understanding of 24 years of life. It was a game I actually enjoyed.

So, I thought I'd share. A blog is kind of like the grown up version of the family fridge of proud papers, pictures and stories. Welcome to a taste of home.

I AM FROM

I am from the Midwest, wherever my dreams or family take me.

I am from tradition and love. Monday night soup night, Friday family night,

I am from a welcoming home—full of strangers, friends, and family. The door is always open.

I am from a culture of debate and teasing, grow some thick skin to survive the dinner table.

I am from walls and halls of pictures. Friends competing for their faces to make the “wall of fame” or the coveted top of the baby grand piano.

I am from the smell of homemade oatmeal bread baking in the oven, freshly popped popcorn, and wisk laundry detergent.

I am from the constant hum of activity: the sounds of worship music blaring at all hours of the day, the Hallelujah Chorus on full blast as the standard alarm clock for holidays, and the door swinging on its hinges as people come and go.

I am from a home full of books strewn across the arms of chairs, half completed board games ready to be conquered, and an extra plate set at the dinner table in case a friend stops by.

I’m from a home with lots of chiefs and not enough indians where life is a party and food is our hobby.

Death is loss, but oh, what gain!

The past few months have kind of felt like a bad tv drama. You know, the ones with SO much going on that you say THAT COULD NEVER HAPPEN TO ONE PERSON! Jack Bauer, you can't possibly have been attacked and survived near fatal wounds in 173 zip codes in one hour of your 24 hour insane life. Only this manic depressive tv series is a reality show... it's real, and it's my life. Personal victories, car problems, death of loved ones, work drama, jet setting for weekends away, crazy new friends and unimaginable adventures. The best part about it is that every single aspect has changed me. From being faceplanted on the ground by my own failures to shaking with the thrill of new cities. I'm getting to see how everything is part of a master plan.

For example: on my way back from England a few months ago, I got stuck in Detroit over night because I got bumped from a flight. My compensation was a travel voucher for $400 and a lovely night stay at a dingy airport hotel. I was really frustrated, had to take an unpaid day from work etc. Went back to work the day after I got put on a flight telling the woes of my traveling hardships. That very week I got a call that my Grandma's health had taken a turn for the worse, I needed to get on a plane as soon as possible back to Iowa if I wanted to see her. Got on the phone that night to try to book an emergency health flight (some airlines do discounts etc)--it just happened that the flight would have been over $900, then with 50% off for medical emergency it was around $450, then once I applied the $400 voucher--I only paid about $100. THIS WAS SUCH A HUGE BLESSING--I had been questioning WHY in the world was it ME that had to get bumped from that flight, why an unpaid work day. Only to find out that the $400 voucher was well worth that night in a hotel room. I don't make $400 a day at work! So-bumped from flight = blessing in that scenario. I got to see the fingerprints of God displayed beautifully through seemingly tragic circumstances.

As I mentioned, I got to go home over Easter to spend time with my Grandma. We had an amazing time to just enjoy being together as a family. Simple things like singing hymns with everyone in her hospice room for an Easter service and hearing my Grandpa's testimony about her role in his walk with the Lord.

Today I got the news that my grandma went home to be with Jesus. Death is hard. Really hard. At least for those of us that are 'left behind'. A sermon I read by Charles Spurgeon called "Death is loss, but oh, what gain!" put it brilliantly:

"What! weep! weep for heads that are crowned with coronals of heaven? What, weep for hands that grasp the harps of gold? What, weep for eyes that see the Redeemer? What, weep for hearts that are washed from sin, and are throbbing with eternal bliss? What, weep for men that are in the Saviour's bosom?
No; weep for yourselves, that you are here. Weep that the mandate has not come which bids you to die. Weep that you must tarry. But weep not for them. I see them turning back on you with loving wonder, and they exclaim, "Why weepest thou?" What, weep for poverty that it is clothed in riches? What, weep for sickness, that it hath inherited, eternal health? What, weep for shame, that it is glorified; and weep for sinful mortality, that it hath become immaculate? Oh, weep not, but rejoice. "If ye knew what it was that I have said unto you, and whither I have gone, ye would rejoice with a joy that no man should take from you." - "TO DIE IS GAIN."
Ah, this makes the Christian long to die - makes him say, "Oh, that the word were given! O Lord of Hosts, the wave divide, and land us all in heaven!"

What an amazing reminder of what we have to look forward to! ETERNAL BLISS WITH GOD! So yes, I agree with CH Spurgeon. I weep. Not that she has gone ahead, but that I remain here. This is not my home! Someday I will join her again, in unending joy and communion with Christ. I know that she is no longer hurting. I know that she is able to SING with every fiber of her being again, that she is in the presence of GOD, and that she is FREE.

I fly home in the morning for the celebration of her life and amazing legacy. I'm really looking forward to remembering her zingy personality and wit, her die-hard competitive spirit, her beautiful voice, and her deep love for all of us. Lorna June Stevenson, you will be missed. DANCE on the streets of gold until I can come up and join you!!