March Snowstorms

I love snow storms in the month of March and November. Those in November announce the arrival of winter, which here in Minnesota does not have the teeth it once did. That first snow brings excitement, especially for kids. When it snows in November, you know Christmas is just around the corner, and the anticipation of the celebration of Jesus' birth builds to a mightily crescendo.

I enjoy the storms in March for a different reason. Rarely are they accompanied by brutally cold weather or skin-piercing winds. It's just snow, and will disappear into the soggy soil within a week or two. Winter is saying, "I'm not quite done yet, I can still hang on for another few weeks..." And it can suddenly bring a halt to everything, which is what happened this morning.

Our much anticipated storm actually materialized, after many false alarms this winter. A good 8-10 inches of beautifully white, wet, heavy snow fell, causing traffic snarlups, school closures (the kids really liked that!), and airport delays. My folks were delayed in Mexico for about 4 hours - and no, I don't feel sorry for them.

Storms like this bring out the best and worst in people. Not having to travel to an office, I didn't see first hand the frustration and anger that was present on the local highways and byways during the morning commute. I'm envisioning some sort of road-rage warning system, similar to our terror alert. This morning it was probably upgraded to Level Orange, announcing imminent expletive-laced screams from petite women, and life-threatening, venomous tirades from grown men.

I however really enjoyed the day. The snow clung to the trees and shrubs, coating them with a thick blanket of white. My dogs played, ran, wrestled and jumped in the stuff. When the snows subsided, I brought my snowblower out to clean off the driveway. Then brought it next door and cleaned their driveway. And then I went down the street to clean another. The weather was wonderful, and doing this small thing for my neighbors made me feel great. Nothing expected in return, just the satisfaction of having helped another person, who didn't have to throw out their back lifting this heavy stuff. I can just see them, much as I'd feel, seeing they didn't have to shovel when they got home from work, thinking "ALL RIGHT!". That by itself is enough for me.

Listening to God's Story

One of my favorite writers said that life isn’t a story about us, but that it is being told to us. Trust me, if I had read that when I was in my teens, I wouldn’t have gotten it. But today, that makes so much sense. God is telling all of us this wonderful, magnificent story. It began with his creation of this incredible world we live in. He knew it was good, but who could appreciate it? So he formed man from dust, and woman from man. And I think one reason he did so was to share his story with us. A majestic story as reflected in the stars, mountains and oceans. A tragic story played out as Jesus was tortured. And a story of redemption as Jesus, God’s son, was sacrificed so that we could have eternal life.

This gift of an eternal life (Romans 6:23) is ours today. We’re living it right now. And that’s the unique thing about this story. While it’s not about us, we are part of it. We’re part of it because from the beginning God wanted a relationship with us. So as we turn the pages of God’s story, we often see ourselves. For example, we may feel anxiety as we move on to a new adventure, maybe in college or starting a new job. But Jesus says we shouldn’t “worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself.” (Matthew 6:34). We may struggle with various challenges, but the Bible says if we persevere, we'll be blessed. (James 1:12)

As God shares more of this story – His story – we’ll be amazed. He’ll guide us through times of trouble and despair. He’ll celebrate with us in times of joy and success. In these coming months and years, even more of the story will be shared with us. Our eyes will open with wonder as we see more of God’s amazing creation. Our heart will ache as we experience some of the pain God feels.

Enjoy this story he’s invited you into. Wrap your arms around it. Live it, feel it, smell it, taste it, breathe it. Don’t cheat by turning to the last page to see how it all turns out. Experience every single page, every single word.

No one tells a story quite like God.

Kirby Puckett - we'll miss you

I live in Minnesota, and in this state Kirby Puckett was it. He was as big as they came - bigger than Hubert Humphrey, bigger than Paul Bunyan. As news broke yesterday about the stroke he suffered, and this evening when he passed away, the news programs and talk shows were filled wall to wall with Kirby. He was such a hero that many named their kids (I think Bob Costas has a child named Kirby) and dogs (as in Kirby Puppy) after him. As big as Kevin Garnett is today, Kirby was even bigger just a short decade ago.

The joy he demonstrated while playing the game of baseball endeared him to all. His atypical body made us all think he was one of us. And he was, in so many ways. Including making mistakes in life.

Over the last few years, Kirby drifted away from Minnesotans, many of whom were quick to judge him when he faced marital and legal difficulties a few years back. We had placed him on such a high pedestal, that when he fell, he fell hard. When he struggled, our love was shown to be false, superficial. We called him a typical athlete, spoiled by sport's riches. We said that he felt he was above the law, above proper morals. The vitriolic attitudes and words hurt him. So he moved down to Arizona.

What we failed to do was forgive him. Not condone his actions, but let him know that, "Hey Kirby, we're going to get through this together. You're our brother and we're here for you. You brought us so much joy, the least we can do is stand by your side." And now, it's too late.

We'll all remember 1991, when his Game 6 homerun in against the Atlanta Braves forced a historic Game 7 and an unparalleled pitching performance by Jack Morris. He told his teammates to "get on my back", because he was going to carry them to victory. We'll remember his 6-for-6 game against the Milwaukee Brewers. We'll remember his many leaps to snag homeruns away from the other team. We'll remember that fateful pitch from Dennis Martinez that hit him above the eye, an at bat that turned out to be his last. We'll remember his smile, and his "Hey man" replies.

I'll remember what he shared with the Metrodome crowd when he retired, an apt description for how he lived: "Live, love, laugh, enjoy life." And, in his Hall of Fame induction speech, referring to the glaucoma that prematurely ended his career, Puck said, "I've said it before and I'll say it again: It may be cloudy in my right eye, but the sun is shining very brightly in my left eye." The eternal optimist.

But I'll also remember that we didn't forgive him.

I miss him already.

Doubting Thomas

"Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed." John 20:29 (NIV)

I'm quite sure my parents didn't choose my name because of any premonition that I might share a skeptical nature with Jesus' disciple Thomas. But, throughout much of my life, I have indeed been the cynic, skeptic...a doubting Thomas. I wasn't an atheist. I was sure there was a God, not not sure of much else. Why was there a God? If He was the creator, why did he create this world or man? So my skepticism was more along the lines of relationship. Fine, so God created this universe, but he certainly doesn't know me, doesn't care about me or my life, doesn't care about suffering. He may be omnipotent, but is he personal?

My doubts were hard to explain too. I believed in the immaculate conception, that Jesus was born of the virgin Mary. I even believed Jesus died and was resurrected. What I didn't believe is that he did so for me. For all the crap in my life, including a lengthy trail of trashed relationships, certainly there were others more worthy. And today, that's where my struggles remain. But, I don't think I'm alone in that regard.

I think for most of us, it's easier to believe Jesus died for others. He died for those that died tragically, the innocent victim of an automobile accident, the mother who died after a battle with breast cancer, the soldier who died defending our country. Jesus certainly died for them. But for the rest of us? For those of us who yell at our children for no reason. Or those who drink too much. Did he really die for us? Did he really die so that our many sins were forgiven?

Yes. Regardless my skepticism and doubts, Jesus died for me. All I need to do is accept that gift, graciously, with eternal thanks. I thank him most every day for giving his life for me. And some day, I'll thank him in person. I'm sure he laugh about my doubts...and forgive me for that as well!