Returning

In returning and rest shall be your salvation. Isaiah

Returning. For 17 years I was away from the small Ranch that was home to my 8 siblings, my parents and myself. It is a beautiful little ranch nestled in a small valley. Driving along the country road when almost home you see the hills above the ranch where my oldest brother watched sheep some summers, where we hunt for deer and elk, where we hike or drive in our truck until we are high enough to look over the picturescue Jefferson valley. I could only return to that home once or twice a year. The 1300 mile drive ended as I came over a little rise and looked down onto home. It was a humble home, across a creek from my fraternal grandparents house. Our 3 bedroom, one bath, one level home was for 11 people but the anticipation that rose within me as I got closer was exciting and tremendous. I found rest in that home, a rest that came from knowing that they were as excited to see me as I was them. It was there that i would find hugs,kisses, laughter, my favorite foods, small children sitting on my lap, saying funny and clever words, visits with my Mother about life, prayers and faith. Returning. Terry used to say if he didn't get me home twice a year he couldn't live with me. In some sense, it was my salvation. It is hard to believe that repentance (the word other versions of the Bible use for returning) should be like that. A place where I will feel safe, joy, loved, welcomed, where I would laugh, listen and feel at peace. A place of rest and joy beyond description. A place that would save me.

The living room

In the night I've been remembering.  Each room in the old house has memories.  The living room.  It's where we met for prayer meeting.  Every Wednesday night for a long time until we began sharing in other homes.  People came there so Grandpa wouldn't have to go to town. He and Grandma would have had to pack up his wheel chair and all.  We all walked over to Grandma and Grandpas.  Even now I can feel the warmth of the stove on the east side of the room where Grandpa sat as he conducted the services.  His 3 in 1 laying on his lap.  I watched strength in his weakness as he lead.  First we sang, then prayed, then sang, then gave testimonies, then sang and ended with a prayer.  Always the same. I never grew tired of it but I suppose others did.  Sometimes it was funny like when Ken fell asleep and almost fell off the chair or when one of the little kids did something funny.  Sometimes it was precious like when Dennis was leaving for college and we sang, "Old Old Path" and "God be with You Till We Meet Again." It changed as different people came and went from our little, mostly Sacry congregation.  For me, it provided a place to build my faith as I listened to others share theirs.  The Holy Spirit (or Holy Ghost as we called it then) was as real as the heat from the stove. 
That room was also a place for Christmas where we gathered until Mom decided we should have our own Christmas at home and we were mad at her.  We gathered around and waited for Santa to arrive with a sack of presents.  We children were the center of life there.  We knew we were precious by the way everyone laughed at our cute sayings and wanted hugs and kisses and for us to sit on their laps. 
It was a room filled with love and laughter.  I especially remember when the little ones were just learning to walk we'd lean them in a corner and encourage them to walk to us.
The other night Jim said, "The house doesn't matter.  Whatever is right or wrong with it you just get used to it.  This house is so comfortable and really nice.  It's a great house."  Yes it is.  It was made nice because of the welcoming spirit that always met us there.  By the love and laughter and fun.

ranch meetings

Sacred.  I never thought I would view them that way.  We are discussing the new house being built at the ranch.  colors, walls, toilets, window height, mudrooms, showers, tubs - Hard for husband and wife to agree on, let alone 11 people.  Yet the rule seemed to be respect, honor, desire to listen and desire to not offend.  Laughter.  I love the laughter.  Treasure it, even.  In Gayle and Kathryn I feel like we have a gift for awhile, for as long as we are blessed enough to have them.  How they in their wisdom submit sometimes to our wishes and sometimes give their advise.  But they treat us respectfully, lovingly.  Jim and Nancy, how they are quiet when we discuss the home they will live in.  Kathryn praising their quiet.  Ken, flying up because he wants so much to be a part of it. He and Jim giving heir knowledge and experience.  Everyone sharing their thoughts, experiences.
It's hard to leave the old ranch house...so many memories.  I'm not sure how everyone else feels but to me, I feel God's hand in this new adventure into the new.  Like those old times are being gently placed into the new.  I know when I go to the meetings that I have to pray about them and that most likely others, especially Kathryn, are also praying, asking God's presence, God's light. What a sacred trust we have to pass on a heritage to the next generation.  I hope they will also pray.  This morning I am thanking God.  Deep praise within for the goodness God has brought into my life.

The Gospel

She was - well, seemed to me to be delusional.  She was a religious fanatic, would come to her son's house, bang on the door in the night and feel offended that they would not let her in. Anytime, day or night she would come and tell them they had to follow Jesus or they would go to hell.  She constantly badgered them, saying in appropriate things.  She was disrespectful of their wishes and ignored the boundaries they tried to set for their home.  They refused to let her be with their children for fear of what she would do or say.  I watched Dr.Phil, angry at the image of a Christian she portrayed.  Yet I saw a piece of myself in her.  Not in the way I act but in the way I fear.  Not about my children going to hell but about my desires for them in other ways.  I was ready for Dr. Phil to blast her.  But he didn't.  He treated her lovingly, kindly.  He saw in her what I was not seeing.  He said, "I'm about telling the truth. All this about your fears about your children's salvation is not really about them but about you.  You do not value yourself.  You are afraid they will not value you.  You are afraid they will leave you and the actions you are taking are causing the very thing you fear."  I watched and I cried.  I had great compassion for her.  So did her son.  They all saw it and so did she.  She thanked him for helping her to see the truth. As I watched, I remembered where my value comes from.  It is intrinsic to a God who parents us all.  I am God's daughter.  God sees me just as I am.  God loves me and that truth will set me free.