Author: made4eternity

This evening I went over to the Marquette University library and checked out Good Morning, Little Fox. 

And thought about how doing so perfectly shows the dramatic shifts in my life over the last year – from grad school to elementary school, from spending most of my days with adults to spending most of  my days with little ones,  from heavy reading on speech sound development and language disorders to watercolor pictures and simple rhymes.

It’s been a good change.

It’s gone . . . at least for now. After the Phils took the World Series in October, I no longer feel like we can never ever win anything. 

So, despite the extremely low prospects that the Eagles will break through and win the Super Bowl in a month, it doesn’t feel like such a crazy idea anymore. After all, lightning struck once, so it can strike twice . . . .

Right?

My failures and the hardness of life in a disappointing and sin-sick world  – these are the things that often capture my mind when I have too-long breaks. Because they are difficult to dwell on, I attempt to drown them out with many “doings” that are not necessarily productive or profitable. But sometimes the music is off, the DVDs are on the shelf, the books are closed, and the only sound I hear is the humming of the refrigerator.

And I think. 

In those moments, I have a choice – to contemplate those dark details of sin and self . . . or to contemplate God. The former leads to despair and disillusionment. But the latter leads to a restful ease, a quieted heart, for in focusing on God (and particularly on my Savior, Jesus Christ), I focus on the best, most glorious, righteous, and true Being.

The things of earth grow dim in that Light.

to start a new year on:

Philippians 3:12-14

Not that I have already obtained this or am already perfect, but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own. Brothers, I do not consider that I have made it my own. But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus. 

Happy ’09, friends – Maranatha!

First, it’s an interesting linguistic error. I’m guessing this individual pronounces Jews with an s sound at the end instead of a z sound. Actually, I’m 99% sure he does.

Secondly, it’s getting really old, this hatred of Israel; several thousand years old, in fact. And what does the Bible have to say about it?

Genesis 12:1-3 Now the Lord said to Abram, “Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you. 2 And I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing. 3 I will bless those who bless you, and him who curses you I will curse, and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed.” 

This promise has never been revoked.

I recently started teaching Sunday School, and not because I’m so adequate or spiritual. There was a need, I was asked, and here we are.

Thus began some intense humbling. Pastor suggested I start a series on the attributes of God for my seven year olds. OK, I thought, sounds good to me! What better to teach these little minds than truths about the one true God?

It’s one thing to know it’s a good idea, it’s another to actually study it out and boil down God’s infinite characteristics into something that can be consumed by second graders. As I started looking up verses on God’s holiness – the first attribute – I started to get a tiny bit of a sense of Isaiah’s response to seeing God in his throneroom. 

Truly, to quote the prophet, “Woe is me!” In modern terms, that’d be, “I’m in deeeeeeeep trouble!” The more I read about God and his holiness, the more I am aware of my stinkiness as a sinner. No wonder Isaiah later wrote about even our “righteous” acts as being “filthy rags”. 

But, oh how wonderful to realize the beauty that is my God. To have the wonderful privilege to be reconciled to him because of his Son’s work for me. And to joy in the fact that he is utterly not me. 

He is holy.

My version of “I’ll Be Home For Christmas” is pretty much the same as the original, except for the following phrase:

Please don’t have snow or mistletoe/Just a view of the Great Rift Valley

So of course I was dreaming of a green Christmas . . .

But this is Wisconsin. There was about a foot of snow on the ground when I woke up on the 25th and the temperature hovered near zero. I forewent (is that the past tense of forego??) my Christmas Day walk as I’ve had enough of braving the elements already this winter season. Sigh. Mom sent pics of their Kenyan Christmas, and I vicariously enjoyed the green.

Then a funny thing happened. Last night we had a thunderstorm. Weird. And this morning when I took my trash out, I was shocked at how unseasonably warm it was. In fact, my first thought was, boy it feels just like early morning in Kijabe after a rainstorm. I ran back inside and looked up the weather. Mid-fifties/rain. Then I looked up the weather over there. Tonight in Kenya, the temps would fall to the . . . mid-fifties – with a chance of rain. 

I put my light jacket on, left my hat and gloves inside, and went out for my slightly delayed Christmas walk. It was just like being in Kenya – well, except for the mounds of snow and ice. But the heavy rains from the night had melted much of the snow in areas, and there was green. 

Some might think today is the lousiest weather day we’ve had in a while. It’s dark, rainy, foggy, muddy. But for one homesick girl in Milwaukee, this brief weather transplant  is just fine.

Thank you, Lord.

I know, it is literally dirt, but I’m obviously talking in a more figurative sense here.

It’s like when you drive down a dusty road in the back of a pick-up truck and the dirt and grime fly into every crack and wrinkle of your skin and hair and your mouth is just caked and dried with the stuff and your snot turns reddish-brown – or what ever color your dirt may be . . . gray, perhaps? (Sorry about the last reference, but it does make the idea a little more vivid, eh?) 

What do you want most of all upon arrving home? Yeah, a refreshing shower and about a gallon of water to drench every crevice of your mouth and thorougly rinse out that nasty dusty flavor. Some nice cool sweet tea would do the trick, too.

So, our days in the world are the ride in the pick-up truck. We come home with a layer of dirt clinging us – all that human philosophy and fallenness that we encounter (from inside us and outside us) – and we need a shower and some sweet tea to wash it all away. We need the “renewing of your mind” Paul speaks of in Romans. 

Has your mind been refreshed lately?

 After spending 45 minutes outside in below zero windchills (Why? That’s a long story that involves a clumsy grip due to thick gloves, a slippery bus pass, a sudden gust of wind just as the bus came, and . . . well, you get the picture – I missed it while retrieving the pass, had to wait for the next bus, and oh, I guess you know the story now.), it is important to get warm. I would recommend the following:

1. Make a steaming hot cup of coffee – preferably with special seasonal eggnog creamer.

2. Curl up in bed.

3. Watch the 2008 Phillies highlights DVD. What better to bring along a little warmth than to enjoy the summer-y game of baseball?

4. Dream of places like  . . . . Kenya.

2 hours later, only my toes are still a tad chilly. Hurrah for homeostasis!

Sometimes I get shocked again by the fact that I am one whom Jesus loves. I hear it all the time, but sometimes there’s that stop-dead-in-my-tracks moment when it comes at me from a new angle (and considering the fact that it is an infinite love, there’ll be forever new angles). In that moment I am awed and humbled afresh. Me = crummy sinner. God = holy. I have nothing to offer; he offers everything. God became a man, died, and rose again so that by simple faith I could live forever in his heaven.

And all I can think is: Jesus. Loves. Me.  

Wow.

Just for fun, my mom sent this picture of my brother Noah in Kenya to us Morrison kids on this side, and asked us to “please submit a caption for this picture”. Here were the results:

Luka: This is a very rare sight indeed, the Pajero allowing a human to get this close.

Me: Just a split second too late, Noah realized the front bumper of the car might not be the best rugby tackle dummy.

Pete: noah skillfully avoiding mom’s “dinner dishes radar”

Em: Noah, a little too eager to ride shotgun, shows off his calf muscles.

Have I ever mentioned how much I love my family’s sense of humor?

Last night I was watching that good ol’ Charlie Brown Christmas special. The no-frills animation and barely-acting vocal talent is classic. I’m always amazed that I get chills when the Linus comes on the stage and proclaims the portion from Luke 2 on the birth of our Savior. No music, no drama, just an understated recitation of the first part of the gospel for all to hear as “the true meaning of Christmas”. I’m even more amazed that this still gets airtime on the secular networks.

Of course, the jolt back to reality came when the screen switched from the Peanuts stage to the Target stage where little children were singing the praises of holiday bargains at the big box store. Alas, commercialization is still with us.

But for a little relief, here’s that wonderful passage (in the Old King James, which is how I always like to hear it):

Luke 2:8-13

And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, ‘Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.’ And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, ‘Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.'”

After work today, I was browsing the books at my school’s library when I spotted the Nancy Drew series. Like many girls growing up in yesteryear, I’d done my share of perusing that young “sleuth’s” adventures. Feeling a bit nostalgic, I picked one of the oldies (i.e. the originals, not that modern day garbage) off the shelf and skimmed through the pages. 

I must say I got a good chuckle out of  the heroine’s stilted speech mannerisms. At one point, I read something along the lines of, “‘I must report this incident to the authorities,’ Nancy said to herself”. In another place she describes a certain man to her friends  as being “unscrupulous”. Seriously, when was the last time you heard an adult use that word in normal conversation, much less a teenage girl?   Strangely enough, these books were written for young adolescents and pre-adolescents. I’m trying hard to imagine my kids being able to wade through this kind of children’s literature from several decades ago. It’s not working too well, and part of me is sad for that. 

The weird thing is, although I know most of the odd words went over my head, I realize now that learned a lot of vocabulary from books like Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys. Or at least I was exposed to a lot of good vocab. Today’s kids books seem to be so dumbed down or smart-alecky. They just don’t write books like Freckles, Rifles for Watie, Stuart Little, or, well . . . even Nancy Drew’s adventures for children anymore.

Makes you want a little more “unscrupulous” writing, doesn’t it?

“I’m gonna die, you’re gonna die, and it’s gonna be sweet, dawg!”

That’s what my friend Brian said (or rather, exuberantly declared) while we were on our way to church,and I know that out of context, it  seems  . . . odd. But we were discussing the inevitability of death and how we believers can talk about it candidly and without fear.

We are quite literally immortal until the Lord calls us home. David states in Psalm 31:14-15a, “But I trust in you, O Lord; I say, ‘You are my God. My times are in your hand.'”  At the “time” of his choosing, we’ll walk through that door called death into his presence, where we will remain for all eternity.

And yes, Brian, it’ll be very sweet.

for as long as I can remember. It’s been long out of print and the only reason I know it is because of my Grandpa’s nickname for me. All my life he’s called me Katrina van Ost after the title character in the 1934 novel, Katrina van Ost and the Silver Rose. I know little else about the book, but that name has always been a special bond between the two of us. 

Last week, I finally looked it up and found it on Amazon for the reasonable price of $10. So I bought it. 

Today, the package arrived in my mailbox from Virginia. When I opened it and pulled out that weathered book with the silver rose on the cover, I thought how nice it was to meet the “original” Katrina after all these years.

Thought you’d like to know too, Grandpa.

I took a nap. I like to take a nap when I get home from work on this day because it keeps me alert for church at night. I knew I was dead tired when I was startled from my deep sleep by my alarm an hour and half into lala-land. Only 12 days of work left before Christmas (pardon, winter [you know how it is]) break. 

As of last week, I’m just three months in, but I’m weary. Weary of seeing little ones with big problems I can’t understand or handle. Weary of not being able to share with them the one thing that matters in eternity. I’m not downcast or discouraged; just plain weary.

That is why this is so like a drink of cool water on a hot day:

Isaiah 40:28-29

Have you not known? Have you not heard?
The Lord is the everlasting God,
the Creator of the ends of the earth.
He does not faint or grow weary;
his understanding is unsearchable.
He gives power to the faint,
and to him who has no might he increases strength.

Onward . . . in his strength.

2 Corinthians 12: 10 For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong.

According to the American Heritage Dictionary, a calamity is “an event that brings terrible loss, lasting distress, or severe affliction; a disaster”.

I haven’t had much experence with calamities. But I do know in the face of one, I’d feel very weak. Good thing that in verse nine we have this promise from the Strong, Sovereign One:

My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.

I took the month of November off from blogging, if only because the rest of my life was so “on”. That, and the juices had run dry. Or something.

Anyway . . .

It snowed today. It seems like the weather in Milwaukee switches to winter on 1 December, as if it’s saying, “Oh, it’s December? That means SNOW!” 2 years ago today, we got a blizzard. Last year today, we got a bunch of snow. This year today, it was a few inches along with 30mph northwest winds. 

Batten down the hatches, troops. Winter’s back again!

(Me too.)

On 2 April 2007, I wrote a post about baseball’s opening day:

Besides the first day of spring, this is probably my favorite “lesser” holiday. On this day, the games count. On this day, I am always certain the Phillies will begin their march to their first World Series championship since they won it three weeks before I was born back in ‘80. On this day, “next year” is finally here.

Unbelieveably, “next year” happened yesterday. I was sitting in church as Pastor wrapped up the evening message, and my phone started buzzing. The caller ID told me my friend Abigail was calling. And I knew. There was only one reason she’d be calling her die-hard Phillies fan friend on this night.

The first person I called after church was Dad. He and Mom and Daniel had gotten up at 3 AM to watch the game in Kenya. “We won the World Series, Dad!” “I know!” he said. “Dad, we won the World Series!” The conversation went on for a couple more minutes. I think those were the only 6 words I said. Over and over. It just didn’t seem real and I was trying to convince myself.

My calls to Pete and Luke and my grandparents went pretty much the same way. We were all deliriously incredulous. After all, we’re the Fightin’ Phillies. We grind out seasons in mediocrity, in near-contention. We lose 10,000 games. We don’t go around winning World Series every year or two. We win it all maybe once a century.

I thought it might be happening for the first time when Brett Myers worked that walk and Shane Victorino hit that grand slam against CC Sabathia. Then Shane and Matt Stairs hit their homers to silence L.A. And when even Joe the Pitcher hit a home run in the Game 4 of the Series, I really thought this was the year.

It was. We waited 28 years for October 29th, and despite Game 5’s historic 46 hour rain delay, the Boys of Philly’s Summer pulled it off at 9:58PM.

And like I keep saying, we won the World Series.

the Phillies decided to go to the World Series. And with their hard work and the assistance of the Brewers and the Dodgers, they made it.

I’m a little happy right now.