Moonshine

Five-Minute Friday 
This week's word: Story

Go

I was working in the kitchen.  Cleaning and clearing and organizing as I tend to do.  This was early in Dad’s recovery period when he was at Walter Reed and Mom was staying at the Fisher House in Bethesda to be close to him.  So it was just me, Grandpa, and Midnight at the house.

In any case, I was keeping myself busy with one thing or another when Grandpa called in from the living room.

"Hey Regina?"

"Yeah Grandpa?"

"I think you’d make a pretty good moonshiner."

…

Well that just stopped me in my tracks!  What an unexpected thing to hear! I know he's been watching a lot of that Moonshiner's show, but I can't make heads or tails of what he's getting at.

"Why is that Grandpa?"

"Well, you’ve gotta move pretty quick to stay ahead of the law, and you’re real good at zipping around."

My puzzled expression morphed into a wide grin.

"Thanks Grandpa."

I just love him.  Sprinkled throughout my nondescript and ordinary days, I get these precious moments of quirky brilliance.  They’re stories I treasure, and the kind that get better with each retelling.

Plus, if things don’t work out for me in corporate America, my Grandpa just might be on to something.

Stop

Psalm 23 - Part 6 - Conclusion

Yesterday I shared about being unafraid, no matter where in the world my travels take me.

Also because of my travels, now more than over, I am so very acutely aware of the greenness of my home pasture, and the overwhelming abundance of the goodness and mercy that surround me. 

I see it in the way God's blessings overflow on the trip themselves and the relationships that have emerged from them, and I’ve seen it in the ridiculous amount of richness which is so often invisible and taken for granted in the context of my American lifestyle. And as crazy as it may sound, I really struggle with that at times.

But there in my struggle to reconcile these things together, when my heart feels attached to and torn between so many places and people, when I feel guilty about where I get to live and the smallness of the things I feel like I can do in comparison to such great needs – God is right there to breathe peace into my chaos. 

He takes my troubled heart that yearns so desperately to change the world and meet each need and leads me beside still waters.  Yes, I live in a green pasture.  He makes me lie down there. I am right where he wants me to be and he will continue to lead me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake.

He reminds me that “my cup overflows” is not just true for me, it’s true for all of those He shepherds. 

It is not my job to solve every problem or meet every need, but to be obedient to his voice and his leading.  After all, if I can feel these things this keenly, how much more does he feel them and long to lavish his extravagant love and provision on his children? He frees me from my burden and reminds me he can handle all the heavy lifting.

So let me just conclude by saying: For me, for my father, for my ever expanding spiritual family, I know “the Lord is our shepherd,” and that keeps me relentlessly optimistic.

Psalm 23 - Part 5 - Unafraid

In the past few years, my world has been rocked, expanded, and profoundly changed through short-term mission trips.

I’ve been in Uganda during election season when riots and violence abound. Last fall I had the honor to travel with my mother to Myanmar, which is actually classified “hostile” to the Gospel and where simply owning up to your faith can be a tremendous risk. And I just returned from Rwanda, 5 minutes from the Congo border, where racial and national tensions are healing, but are still very real.

…and in all these places, I have never once felt afraid. 

Deep within my heart is a peace because I know whatever location or circumstance in which I find myself, He is with me, and if He led me there, then He also prepared for me to be there.

Just let that simmer for a moment. 

Psalm 23 - Part 4 - Correction

As you might imagine, stressful times can bring moments of friction into even the closest relationships. 

While it has been my honor and true joy to serve and support my family as we face this huge challenge (if you're just tuning in, my dad had a major brain surgery in January), I can also vividly recall a night when I was frustrated with my mom and praying for God to correct and deal with her, as well as feeling lonely and disconnected from my friends and all the things that normally make my life so vibrant and colorful. 

In the midst of that moment, two scriptures came to mind, followed by a line from Psalm 23.

"Love keeps no record of wrongs"

My flesh wanted to add this new instance to a long tally of offenses, but 1 Corinthians reminded me to throw the record out the window and show love instead.  No matter how many times my mom might do that thing that hurts or frustrates me, I need to love her enough to show grace and patience, every time.

"Rejoice with those who rejoice"

I’ve missed a lot of things this year.  There’s a string of Instagram photos out there that when I look at them, I see a Regina-sized hole or wish I had a Regina-sized equivalent.  But Romans reminds me I shouldn’t begrudge or be jealous of other’s joy.  I should be happy and share in it, even if that’s from afar for right now.

…And through the sting of these two bits of conviction and correction, I heard God reminding me "your rod and your staff, they comfort me." 

Which is true.

While the correction or reminder might sting, they are also a comfort.  They help me to let go of the hurt, the frustration, and the jealousy, and find comfort in choosing love and patience and gratitude and joy instead.

The strength and truth from this passage and others, have allowed me to walk through this journey with relentless optimism and a deeply-rooted, pervasive faith that God has always been, and will always remain completely in control.  My dad, my whole family, is in good hands.  Most importantly, my dad is still here with us and getting better every day. 

My cup overflows.

...the journey continues tomorrow.

Psalm 23 - Part 3 - Serenade

When last we left off, we were waiting for my dad to wake up after a super big and complicated (and successful) brain surgery.

During that first month, I brought my violin to the ICU a lot.  I filled the evening hours with everything from bluegrass to Beethoven, from ancient hymns to modern hallelujahs.

I thought about how David would be summoned to come and play for King Saul. 

The scriptures say when David played for Saul, his mood would miraculously change. Each time I would play for my dad, his blood pressure and vital signs would improve.  He might not have been able to show it, but I think on some small level he was aware I was there. 

And isn’t that one of the deepest comforts of Psalm 23?  That we’re not alone? 

Whether it’s God’s declaration to be with us in the valley of the shadow of death, his pledge to make a table for us in the presence of our enemies, or his assurance of dwelling in his house forever…his presence is the consistent promise. 

My musical offering was my way of showing the same thing:  I’m here with you.  I might not be able to do much, but I can do this one thing. 

My humble and sincere prayer was for the anointing God has placed my talent to help bring healing to my dad’s spirit, even as the medical staff was doing everything in their power to help bring healing to his body. 

Through this small thing, I was praying and believing the truth: “He restores my soul.”

Psalm 23 - Part 2 - Surgery

In January of this year, my dad underwent a major surgery to remove a brain tumor.  If ever I saw a valley of the shadow of death, that's it. The uncertainty leading up to it, the recognition of the seriousness of the surgery itself, and the incredible journey of recovery we are still walking.

The tumor was about the size of a golf ball, compressing his brain stem, and beginning to severely affect everything from his ability to balance, to speak, to swallow, and even to stay awake.  Praise God, it was not cancerous, but it certainly wasn’t benign. It was also in the most complicated and hard-to-reach part of his brain.

An extraordinary team of surgeons, 2 major procedures, and 23 hours of surgery later…the lead neurosurgeon used the word “elegant” to describe the outcome.  I’ll never forget that.  He said he couldn’t be happier with what he had seen and experienced in the operating room.  Actually, after seeing the post-op MRIs and observing just how much the tumor had worked itself into the critical parts of my dad’s brain, he was surprised my dad had been functioning at all.  (That’s my dad for you, stubborn and resilient).

All of that sounds really great.  And it is.  So where does Psalm 23 come into the mix?  After the surgery, it took my dad almost a month to wake up.  That first month in the Surgical Intensive Care Unit, when things were more touch and go than anyone really wanted to admit...there was Psalm 23. Reminding me that He is with me. He restores. He comforts. He promised goodness and mercy. I will fear no evil.

...more about that first month tomorrow.

Psalm 23 - Part 1 - Opening Thoughts

Last Sunday, I had the wonderful privilege to share with my church family about what Psalm 23 means to me. I'd like to share with you too. I talked for about 10 minutes, which is way to much to put in one post, so stay tuned over the next few days.  I'll break it down into bite-sized chunks. :-)


Psalm 23

Psalm 23 is one of those passages I don't think about all the time, but when I need it (or when God wants to remind me of the truths in it), it bubbles up to the surface. It is part of the fabric of my life -- part of the roots and rhythm and legacy of faith given to me by my parents and church family.

• When I get too busy or chaotic:  “He makes me lie down.”

• When I am jealous or feeling forgotten:  He reminds me these are “green pastures,” “my cup overflows,” and He leads me “for His name's sake”...not my own.

• When I am convicted:  “His rod and staff comfort me.”

• When I am worried, affronted, or afraid:  “He is with me, I will fear no evil.”

• When my life seems to run counter to everything my culture says is important: “He is my shepherd,” “He anoints me,” “He leads.”

• When I want to focus on here: I remember “I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”  Because it's not about here, it’s about there.

As meaningful and true as those thoughts are, they are kind of general too.  As I continued to meditate about what Psalm 23 means to me, some very recent and specific things came to mind.

...more on that tomorrow!