To All of Humanity...

Earlier this week, it dawned on Connie and me that for the first time in 16 years we have not been called upon to help construct a shoebox mailbox for Valentine's Day by some combination of our children. It made us a bit wistful...an era has passed.

I remember doing it as a school boy myself. Valentine's Day season was one of the handful of times during the school year that we would be issued a larger than normal piece of paper. Not just any paper...but the special paper...the manila paper (or "vanilla paper" as we called it). We would fold the paper about three quarters of the way up and staple the edges to make a "folder" for others to deposit various and sundry Valentine's wishes into. We decorated them elaborately.

20 years later, when our kids started being old enough to get into the act, it was shoe boxes instead of paper. In the beginning, we would paint the boxes some base color and then the kids would decorate it. Later, when the shoebox material became slick and glossy and would no longer hold a coat of paint...we would help them meticulously cover the shoebox with construction paper which would then be colored and painted with Valentine's Day themed art. The past few years...with increasing time restraints and a general lack of enthusiasm for such things...we'd just cover the whole box with tin foil and cut out a few red hearts. I wish I had just one more shot at it...

The class list...which was carefully guarded because we wanted to spell everybody's name correctly and not leave anyone out...would come home a few days in advance. It usually had 21 or 22 names on it which is significant because those little Valentine's cards came in packs of 20. It must be a conspiracy of some sort.

There would be one or two especially designed for the teacher and then one or two that were somehow distinguishable from all the rest...maybe a little larger...maybe a little more ornate...but distinguishable nonetheless. They were for special friends.

Usually on February 13th...sometime past bedtime...the task of addressing those little cards would begin. To...Be Mine...From Katie. To...Be Mine...From Katie. To...Be Mine...From Katie (or Austin or Zack...you get the picture.) Always To...Be Mine...From. To...Be Mine...From.

There would be that one card (most years anyway) that would be different. It would break the mold...the tedium...the norm. It would go - To...Be Mine...LOVE Katie. Not "From" but "Love." That was the signal...that was the shot over the bow...that was the declaration of a deep and profound fondness that would last for all eternity. Or, in actuality, it was the subtle announcement of a little crush. How cute.

It would happen on the receiving end to. Somewhere...from someone...in the middle of all those "To Katie...Be Mine...From Whomever's" would be the one that said, "Love, Whomever." Smiles and giggles usually followed along with a playful promise from Dad to load his shotgun.

Sometimes it was a surprise. Zack or Austin or Katie would look at the card with strange wonderment and muse, "Love? Really? Me?...I had no idea."

I get that same sense of wonderment when I read that ultimate love note from God found in the 3rd chapter of John's gospel...the 16th verse. "For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son. Whoever believes in him will never die." For God so loved you and me that he promises that everything will ultimately be alright for all of us who choose to go to him.

Really? Even me?

"But God...you don't know where I've been. You don't know all the things I've done. I've got a dark side...there are things I'm not proud of.

I know...God says...Be Mine.

"But God...I've lied. I've been unkind. I've been selfish. I've mistreated others to get what I want.

I know...God says...Be Mine.

"But God...you don't understand. You don't realize that there have been so many times that I've chosen to do things...to be things...that I know you don't approve of. I knew it...but I chose them anyway."

I know...God says...Be Mine anyway.

"But God..I've made such a mess of things that I'm no good to you...I'm an embarrassment."

To which God says, "I know everything you have ever done and I know everything that has ever been done to you. Give it all to me. Give me the lies and the selfishness and the unkindness. Give me the fears and failures and faults and frailties. Give me the mess." "And I will create in you marvelous wonders...you are beautifully and wonderfully made...give me everything and I will make you new."

To All of Humanity...Be Mine...Love, God.

Peace everyone.

Video Version - The Story Behind the Story

For the YouTube video version of The Story Behind the Story...click http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FCphFdZn8Fw. Or, view it from the blog site. God's peace everybody.

The Story Behind the Story

I know that this isn't a new idea. It is not revolutionary. It is not a sudden discovery. It is something that we all know...almost intrinsically. It is certainly something that we know by experience. I do think, however, that it deserves a little of our attention. So...here goes.

Unless we ourselves are the primary players of a particular drama...we are always on the outside looking in. Unless we are directly involved in a "thing," all we see is what others choose for us to see.

There is always a story behind the story. Or, perhaps more accurately, there is always an image behind the words.

I think it is important for us to remember that as we encounter the world..or rather..as we encounter the people in it. I was reminded of it last week. The words I heard...and the image behind them...have been haunting me...or humbling me...ever since.

I spend time with her when she wants to. She's been battling cancer for quite some time now. It's a roller coaster...as some of you know first hand. Understandably, lots of questions arise...lots of thoughts and emotions surface. We deal with those as best we can. We talk things through trying to come up with some grain of wisdom and insight...something to grab hold to until the next wave. We ride. Mostly, we just pray. I'm often left wondering just who is ministering to whom. Our roles seem to reverse or, at least, alternate during our times together.

Last week, we were together...we were riding the roller coaster and were trying to discern just exactly what to pray for when she said,

"You know when you hear me talking about treatments and chemo and options and white counts and liver enzymes that I don't see those things in my head. What I see...even as I say those words..talk about those things...is my 13 year old son."

The story behind the story. The image behind the words.

What does he see in his mind's eye when he shares, "Hey...I've got two job interviews lined up this week." Does he see an application or a resume or an interviewer? Does he see a conference room or office where the meeting will take place? Does he see opportunity? Or...does he see the image of himself potentially having to tell his wife and family that the job went to someone else...

When she tries to muster the courage (not to mention the faith) to say, "I know he's in a better place. At least he isn't suffering anymore. He wouldn't have wanted to live that way,"...what does she see? Does she see "heavenly realms" and a far better existence that her husband of decades has been birthed into? Or...does she see a vacant place at the table...his empty chair...his...

There is always a story behind the story. There is always an image behind the words.

To be sure...there is hope...all is not lost. The truth remains that God has promised to be faithful to us...to not forsake us. There is light at the end of the tunnel. I believe that with all my heart.

In the meantime, however....I'm going to understand a little better...feel a little deeper...care a little wider...and love a little bigger.

Join me?

Painting by Kelly Angard - The Crafty-Girl