To everything (turn, turn, turn)
There is a season (turn, turn, turn)
And a time to every purpose, under heaven

A time to be born, a time to die
A time to plant, a time to reap
A time to kill, a time to heal
A time to laugh, a time to weep

A time to build up, a time to break down
A time to dance, a time to mourn
A time to cast away stones, a time to gather stones together

A time of love, a time of hate
A time of war, a time of peace
A time you may embrace, a time to refrain from embracing

A time to gain, a time to lose
A time to rend, a time to sew
A time for love, a time for hate
A time for peace, I swear it’s not too late

If you know who penned these lyrics, you are showing your age…or gaining cool points from me.  Most will also remember that the Byrds actually took these lyrics from a very wise man who ironically, often acted foolishly.  But I digress…or leave you to further self-pontification on this fact.

From world news to Craig news, from church life to school life, from work to vacation…lately, all avenues of my life seem to be moving according to the lines of this poem, then they repeat…on skip.  The constant refrain ever remains that everything is turning.  For instance, this week:

Sunday, we dropped all the kids off for their first overnight camp.  I was both elated and worried, I laughed and hid my cries as we took first day pics.  Turn.

Monday, July 4, Barrett and I packed a bag and biked to Washington DC to celebrate my birthday with America at the parade and fireworks!  It was a fantastic day full of crazy meetings including a friend we haven’t seen for over two years that we spotted in a crowd of thousands!  We also said hello and goodbye to the new friends we made as we plopped down between them in order to share the stonewall/chair in front of the Washington Monument to view the fireworks later that evening.  One was from Burma who truly grasped the beauty of American freedom as she told us of those murdered in her own country for going against the government.  I sighed as I quickly recalled the Ukrainians marching in the parade that very morning, flying their flags vigorously while shouting, “Thank you America”! I wiped a tear there too.  How do we celebrate our freedom while mourning those who lack it?  Turn

The other new friend was a young girl searching her life for meaning and realizing it wasn’t coming from her friends or school. She then asked about finding her hope in military life as we walked her back to her car. We exchanged numbers in hope that she will come to our house for dinner so we can share lasting hope with her.  Turn.

We spent the night in DC to avoid traffic and headed home the next day.  We had plans of hiking, playing games, reading, writing, relaxing…yet we ended up doing hours of yard work, cleaning and organizing the sheds, cleaning my car and purging the house.  We did manage a trip to the gym to lift together, which I actually thoroughly enjoyed, and played a yard game that’s purpose is to throw large sticks at targets to knock them down.  That was therapeutic and enjoyable!  Plans were shifted.  Turn.

Thursday we decided to start heading back to camp early so we could squeeze in a trek on the Adirondack Trail and have a relaxing evening before we picked  up the kids the next morning.  We parked the car and traveled lightly not giving a thought to evil intentioned hearts that might lurk in shadows…this was the Adirondack Trail, for heaven’s sake!  Nothing bad can happen in this parking lot.  Everyone we met was so happy to be there and quick to share a tale.  We hiked for two hours and basked in the Lord’s creation of trees, wild black berries, boulders, and wildlife.  We got back to the minivan invigorated and full of satisfaction on what we had just done.  We get in the car and start listening to a podcast as we drove away when suddenly, we both get a text notification of a $507 charge at Walmart…we looked at each other with complete confusion.  “Colleen, look in your wallet.” I opened my wallet (which felt a lot lighter) and couldn’t comprehend what I saw.  My military ID was at the bottom, my license still at the top, but all the credit cards in between were gone. GONE.  All my cash, which was a lot at this particular time due to our anniversary and my birthday, gone.  Barrett grabbed his wallet.  Cards.  Gone.  It was so surreal because nothing else was missing anywhere.  Our backpacks were there, iPad, apple TV, gift cards…but no cash and no cards.  Some person broke into our car while we were hiking and took the loot.  Then they beelined it for Walmart to buy as many gift cards they could until we cancelled our cards.  After a couple of hours of phone calls, all our cards were cancelled, a police report was filed, and we were at our hotel.  But we had no way to get food.  None.  Well, I had a check book and we had apple pay, but Beford was too modern for checks and too backwards for apple pay.  The manager at the hotel finally said she trusted me enough to cash a check for $50.  We had dinner!  We went from glorying in God’s creation, to hatred of one of His created, to loving another created soul who took a chance on me.  Turn.

We picked up our elated, stinky, horse, and exhausted kids the next morning and listened to all the camp songs about mommy giving me a penny, putting our hands up as a jellyfish, the Lord being the hub in the middle of the wheel, and Fred the Moose who likes to drink juice.  Then we pulled into the Flight 93 memorial where we took the next hour revisiting what happened on that fateful day in September, 2001.  We heard voices from the cabin, saw every face, and looked at the ID’s that somehow survived the fire.  We walked to the marble wall where we saw each name on a single large piece of white marble and listened to the park ranger give more details.  We all gaped at the large slab of sandstone that marked the impact point.  We all got quietly back into the car, sighed, and thought about ultimate sacrifice.  Turn.

Then we got home and Happy jumped for joy!  He wiggled between everyone and couldn’t get enough love, until he did, and went to get his ball.  Annabelle went upstairs to tell her fish about camp only to find out the Goldie had died that day.  She was lifeless on the bottom of her blue stoned tank.  Her sorrowful cries could be heard down the street.  Her tired, emotional, broken soul couldn’t take one more thing. We buried Goldie the next day realizing that she was more than a fish, she was a constant for a military kid that has dealt with so much change, so many seasons.  Turn.

That was one week of experiencing every line in this old song.  I sit her trying to figure out what the feeling is in my belly as I recall these turns.  It’s too much.  Instead I’m going to end where Solomon does, to remember my creator in the days of my youth (I know, youth, don’t laugh too hard).  I remember that my creator sees me, holds me, loves my kids more than I do, will never leave me nor forsake me, freed me from condemnation, will slay satan, gives justice, loves mercy, dries my tears, upholds me in his righteous right hand, but ultimately, He’s my Savior!  His is the measure of ultimate sacrifice, His death on the cross.  For me.  For my sin.  He died for someone who doesn’t deserve it, never will deserve it.  Yet he didn’t stay dead!  He turned death upside down!  He arose!  This, THIS is the good news!  Sin has been paid for!  The victory is won! Praise the Lord!  He arose in body form!  I believe that!  I trust that!  That is my hope in the midst of these turns.

None of the pain this week was in vain.  It has a reason, a purpose.  Even if the only one I can see now is to remind me that this life is not my home and I can trust the God who never changes, who never turns.  Because Jesus lives, I have hope that all our tears will be wiped away and soon it will be a time to laugh and dance, love and heal, it will be peace with no war.  A time for every purpose under heaven.

Colin Powell.  Prince Philip.  Ed Asner.  Larry King.  All well-known souls that passed to eternity this year.  I’ve known these names for years but could not tell you how they made an impact on my world.  I’m assuming the same for you, friend.  We grieve briefly and maybe even say a short prayer for their loved ones who remain and then go on with our day.

Now let me tell you about a woman whom I did know that impacted my life and family deeply that passed away all too soon this year.  Her name was Susan Blois.  She lived in Louisville, KY and we became friends in the oddest way.  She and her friend Brenda were on a plane to Alaska when my parents, who were on the same flight, started up a conversation.  They discovered that they were all on the same cruise and managed to eat most meals together and became fast friends.  She was a retired school teacher and volunteered for the Make a Wish Foundation.  I was living in Thailand at the time and didn’t think much of it.  Then I met and married Barrett and moved to Louisville, KY.  She graciously hosted my parents each time they visited us and we became sweet friends.  She met our Betsy many times and they too became fast friends.  While we were still living with Betsy I had my miscarriage of twins and she simply grieved with us through our loss.  Never had a person outside my normal work-church circle enter into my pain like she had, I loved her for that.  She graciously grieved with us again as we sat at Betsy’s memorial service at Clifton Baptist Church a few years later.

We soon moved to Okinawa, Japan and Annabelle was born.  Her birth started the most precious gift of receiving a box of clothes from Susan.  Susan never missed a turn of season to send new clothes and shoes for Annabelle.  We never had to by a stitch of clothing!  When we decided to adopt, Susan was one of the first to support us financially and emotionally.  And when Ronnie and Lydia were finally gifted to us by the Lord, Susan added them to the box!

Each time we visited Louisville, we made sure to meet up with her.  She treated us to an Ethiopian Restaurant when she first met the twins!  I know she didn’t like the food, she just had the heart to bless.  She also made a play date with one of her grandbabies to play at a gym and the pictures and videos are hilarious as my kids had never experienced trampolines or a trapeze before.  She would pack our suitcases with crafts and clothes when we left.

When Maria hit Puerto Rico and we were sent to live in a Florida hotel for an undetermined amount of time, guess who flew out to see us and treat us to a meal? Yup. Faithful Susan.  Ronnie still has the stuffed zebra she bought him on that visit.  I could tell you of zoo visits, breakfast meetups, Churchill Downs tours, and phone calls as well.

She did not have an easy life.  Often we would talk about family dynamics and she would weep over the sadness of what was going on in loved ones life.  I don’t ever recall her feeling badly for herself, only how much she enjoyed serving children in need and wondering if we knew how she could love her children well.

She became sick sometime last year and what pulled her through is she wanted to vote in the presidential election!  Ha!  Her spunk was contagious!  Then the kids and I saw her when we went to a wedding there in April, we didn’t know that would be the last time we saw her.  Our texts and calls went unanswered for weeks.  Then my dad googled her name only to find a funeral announcement that was made in September.  She died so suddenly and unexpectedly.

I took the kids to Target last week to buy some long sleeved shirts and her death hit me afresh.  It’s funny how some people find shopping as therapy, now it reminds me of the loss of a dear friend who walked with us through the worst of times and the best of times.  A woman that never ceased to serve her friends and family when she could have taken a back seat to life.

As the news reels replay the death of names you know, remember to count the blessing of the people you truly know in your life.

It was a lazy Saturday morning.  I threw on red-plaid pajama pants from Gettysburg and a blue superman shirt which made my head his head, and sank into the Lazy-boy chair in our library to read my bible.  I had yet to draw on eyebrows or color on eyelashes, it was Saturday after all.  The kids  were in the school/play room taking turns picking a show to watch.  Barrett was still in bed taking advantage of a well-earned day off.  When Ronnie’s voice escalated in anger about his show choice, I begrudgingly got up to work the problem.  Before I burst past the French doors to their haven, there was a knock at the front door.

Through the wavy glass I could see an adult shape and a few little shapes.  I decided to own my own personal disaster and opened the door proudly to my albino, plaid, superman appearance.  “Hi!  My boys were begging to make you cookies so we could drop them off and meet your kids,”  was the greeting from the smiling ponytailed adult figure.  I wrestled back the exuberantly jumping Happy who led with his tongue, and gratefully took the tin foil covered treasure.  By this time my kids were staring excitedly at possible playmates which allowed Happy to escape outside to meet the other adult hovering over a stroller in our driveway…then Happy blindly crossed the road to wiggle with another unmet dog and neighbor.  I apologized with words since my features weren’t yet available to show them the horror on my face.  I grabbed my dog and invited the husband and final son to come on in.  For the next hour the three oldest boys ran around our house and yard playing joyfully with our kids.  When Barrett couldn’t sleep through the raucous any longer, he emerged to meet the Marine pilot and his family.  It was a really sweet time.

We had met the ponytailed Allison a couple days before when Barrett and I went on a walk with Happy around the neighborhood.  We heard kids playing so we went to investigate.  There were two families playing and we shamelessly said our kids needed friends.  The one family was moving so Allison eagerly asked where we lived so all the kids could meet as her kids playmates were leaving.  That became albino day.

The next night Ms. Pat came over carrying lasagna, bread, and chocolate cake.  She is a neighbor that lives across the street and has a small dog named Emma whom we befriended our first week here.  We invited her over for pizza and a movie night last week and she said she wanted to have us over for lasagna the following week.  She explained how she grew up in Italy and still loves Italian food.  “Absolutely!” we said.  So this became the night…except she wanted to bring it to our house.  “So, this is your favorite recipe for lasagna,” I asked?  “I didn’t make it,” she loudly laughed!  “Giant made it and I heated it up! The box said it fed up to twelve so I said, that’s good enough for me!”  We all burst out in laughter.  We sat around our table and told travel stories while eating our Giant meal.

I didn’t think this happened anymore.  Neighbors being neighbors.  Especially when it’s not on base, on a dead end street, or during a pandemic. Yet here we are experiencing the biblical mandate of people loving their neighbors as themselves.  We don’t all agree on politics, religion, or how to do school, but we see the value of relationships over partialities in the land of faces being hid and people being cancelled.  I am reminded of how the author of Hebrews wrote that we should not neglect meeting with one another as in the habit of some, but to encourage one another all the more as the time draws near (10:25).  What’s crazy, is that although the writer was writing to people of faith, the same biblical precedent works for everyone!  We don’t only meet with each other when we all agree or our houses are pristine…we meet in our mess.  We don’t only come together if we voted for the same guy or fellowship at the same church, we encourage the faint and brokenhearted no matter their background.  I can’t only answer my door when my face is drawn on correctly and we are all getting along perfectly because let’s be honest, that is a rare day.  My new neighbors have taught me this.  Lord help me to form this new/old biblical habit that loves others more than myself and in my mess.

It’s done.  Well, almost.  Our beds are still not made as the movers lost our parts box…I’ve heard this happens often as movers don’t want to assemble furniture after unloading it all day.  I wish I knew that.  We would have taken that box with us.  Not only are our mattresses floor mats, we lost the home pod, and the stands to the TV’s.  Some bookcases didn’t survive, including the large one that held most of our books, furniture was ripped, and our Ethiopian coffee pot was dropped on the floor cracking the handle clean off and chipping the stand of it’s ethnic paint.  I know, we signed up for this.  Yet it still feels sad and invasive…seeing all your clothes and linens thrown on the floor, game boxes smashed due to riff raff being unceremoniously dumped on top, and having the house you just cleaned to get ready for it to become a home left with heaps of dirt, box dust, and heavy shoe prints scattered like hooved prints in a rodeo ring.  Barrett and I just embraced after they left.  Too shocked to cry.

Thankfully our kids were having a blast with my folks and my brother and his family while all of this was playing out.  This is the first move we have had where family was close and offered to help.  Not only did they watch the kids while the movers became dump truck hands, they housed us the month we were homeless.  My kids were able to play with cousins, sit on Pepere’s lap, watch Wheel of Fortune with their Grammy, and swim at the community pool my brother belongs too.  They had sleep overs, played in a creek, watched swim meets, hiked, and even got to go to a local VBS.

The unexpected wait also enabled Barrett to join us on a Revolutionary War trip up to Rhode Island and Boston.  We stayed with my oldest brother and family and they showed us the first black only regiment that fought hard in the war, what an impact Nathanael Greene had not only in Rhode Island, but the rest of the war, and traced the movements of the battle of Rhode Island, a lost yet strategic battle.  Then we went to Newport on the 4^th of July and listened to the reading of the Declaration of Independence on the steps of the Colonial House.  The crowd cheered as he read all the ways the King proved to be a tyrant of a leader thus rendering the only logical verdict, Independence.  Then he read the names of the signers and what colony they represented.  Groups of vacationers cheered when the name of their colony was represented, it was super impactful.  Then they rolled out the last four cannons remaining from Paul Revere’s forge.  We all jumped and covered our ears as they blasted a 21 cannon salute.  After it was over, we walked over and asked the militia men all about the canons and placed our hands on Paul Reveres signet.  It was truly incredible.

The next day we walked the freedom trail in Boston going to where the massacre and tea party took place, the Old North Church, Bunker Hill, Revere’s house, Faneuil Hall, the commons, and Cheers.  We ate pastries at Modern and Mike’s bakeries, listened to a Ukulele band, and Ronnie volunteered for a street performer.  We marveled at how much we fit in.

We finished the tour with a stop at Plymouth to experience Plymouth plantation, rock, and the Mayflower.  The history that my kids and I studied this year came alive in front of our eyes as we walked the footsteps of the brave pilgrims that sailed across the land to worship God the way the bible told them and the rebels that boldly stood up to tyranny to not only become independent from England, but to unite the many individual colonies into one country based on Judeo Christian values.  It is a trip we will not soon forget.

As Barrett and I dutifully depiled our games, clothing, and books, we were reminded by my sister-in-law that it is just stuff.  Eventually the house will be put together, the beds will be assembled, and the dirt will be wiped clean.  Our house will become a home, games will be played, and the dirt will come again…this time from the back door after fun was had.  We did not want a month of being homeless, but it ended up becoming the thing that made our summer superb.  The time with family, memories made, and bonds forged cannot be destroyed by careless hands.  They last forever.

My parents dropped off the kids and this time, the embraces were moving.

“’For the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and of spirit, of joints and of marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart.’ (Hebrews 4:12) OK kids, what is the word of God?” “The bible!” “Yes!  What does it mean that it is living?  Is it like a dog? Does it breath?  Does it eat food?” “No…” “Right, it means that no matter what millennium, country, or age we are in it is relevant to us.  What is the purpose of a sword?” “TO KILL PEOPLE!” (Ronnie was all over that one.)  “Yes, to kill.  What does the word of God kill?”  “Sin!” (I actually was impressed that Annabelle got that so quickly!) “Yes, sin. Our sin, other’s sins, and it helps us to fight for truth.  Do you read it?”

This past week has been awful.  Worse than finding a month old sippy cup that once contained milk in a hot car. Things always seem to hit the fan when Barrett is gone.  There is no buffer for me and the kids doing nonstop living together from school, to play, to bed time…did I mention it has been raining so they can’t play outside?  The bickering, the complaining, the competition, the joy they have in making the others mad.  It’s exhausting!  Then there is the outright disobedience and defiance followed by blank stares that do not repent.  At all.  Saturday, we were all in tears as I asked them what I am doing wrong…how is it that the only joy I see in the home is when you are making others get angry?  When dad is gone, shouldn’t we help each other more?  I just don’t get it!  Imagine blank stares…but brimming with tears.  I’m so tired of the same conversations, the same disobedience, the same waiting to stop annoying each other until I have to say something.  Then I read my bible.

I’m reading in the book of Exodus when Moses went up to get the ten commandments and Aaron makes the golden calf instead of trusting the Lord with the Israelites.  God’s wrath burns!  He declares that He is going to wipe out all of the people and start over again.  Moses pleads for them.  God relents…kind of.  Moses goes down, melts the calf, grinds it to a powder, puts it in the water and makes the people drink it.  Can you imagine how long that took?  I digress.  Then the Levites are told to go out and kill their brothers and fathers.  Yah, that’s right, 3000 die.  Then God sends a plague to get more!  I tell the kids this, then ask, “Was God right in doing this?  Was His anger good?”  “Yeeessss?”  “Why?” “ They sinned, they worshipped something else.”  “YES! Do you think they repented?”  “Yeeeesssss?”  “Yah, I think they repented.  Did that fix it?  Did they ever worship another god after that?”  “Yes!”  (Insert our school timeline song of Israel falling to various countries due to their sin.)  “They did it again.  Then again.  Then again.  Did God ever give up on them?”  “No.”  “NO! He made a covenant, a promise to love them.  Not based on what they do or don’t do but based on who He is.  Guess what God taught me as I read this in my bible today?”  “What?”  “Who else disobeys in the same way over and over and over again?”  Sheepish smiles emerge as they answer, “we do”.  “But here’s what the Lord taught me…I need to love you like He loves me.  Covenantally.  Never failing.  Never giving up on you.  I need to love you even when you disobey…every…day.  My anger should be for sin only, not in self-righteousness.  I need to work on that.”

“’For the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword’…look how He used an historical event thousands of years ago to encourage me on February 15, 2021.  Isn’t that amazing?!?!  Can you see how powerful His word is?  Don’t you want to read it?”  I see Annabelle’s eyes full of wonder as she takes it in…how about yours?