I’ve questioned the notion before that life will work out hunky-dory, if only we love God and behave ourselves, because, at the risk of sounding like a pessimist, I just don’t believe that we are guaranteed happy endings. For as long as I can remember, well-meaning religious people have been quoting Romans 8:28: “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose” (NIV).

What they leave out, however, is the next verse, which talks about being “… conformed to the image of his Son,” namely, Jesus. The chapter goes on to say that nothing can ever separate us from God’s love, and that is true, but it doesn’t mean things will be easy-breezy.

I realize that Jesus (and his uncannily blonde mother, Mary, for that matter), look like well-groomed models who just stepped out of a Pantene commercial in the paintings, but Jesus led a hard life. Besides the fact that such everyday luxuries as motor vehicles, air conditioning and Crocs had not yet been invented, Jesus was not wealthy by any stretch, and he was insulted, ignored, betrayed and ultimately killed. He apparently lost his earthly dad sometime in his teens or 20s. His own neighbors rejected his message.

We all have many, many blessings for which to be thankful.  I have experienced exquisite joy in life; please don’t get me wrong and think that I’m raining on the religion parade. What I’m trying to say is that I don’t think our lives are just about us. I don’t think that life is just about my accomplishments and dreams and the legacy that I leave behind. What about people who die without a so-called legacy? What about the young mother who dies of cancer, or the stillborn baby or the elder who lives alone? I’ve just been struggling with the idea that sometimes, life’s purpose may be larger than us. Our lives are part of a bigger picture, and not necessarily portraits, in and of themselves.

Consider Job’s first batch of children: he had seven sons and three daughters. In a freak windstorm, all 10 of them were crushed to death in a house collapse. That tragedy was just one of a litany of calamities that happened to Job. If you read the whole story, you learn that God restored his family and gave him 10 more children later in life. (Which, by the way, makes me think that perhaps giving birth to 20 children was part of his wife’s punishment for telling Job to curse God and die (Job 2:9-10), but I digress.)

Were the lives of Job’s first 10 children pointless? For lack of a better term, they really just seem like pawns in the overall strategy. That’s a tough pill to swallow, to think that my life might simply be a lesson illustration. I want to accomplish great feats in life, but what I’ve been learning in recent years, as trials and detours keep chipping away at my pride, is that I need to be content with whatever God has in store for me. Sometimes, my goals don’t pan out the way I expect them do, but that doesn’t mean that I should hang it all up and quit trying. I will keep striving, pursuing and reaching toward my dreams, and I will thank God for letting me play a role, however significant – or not – in his story.

It was our last hug:
Four Christmases ago now –
December is hard.

Wish I’d held on tight!
Could’ve, should’ve, would’ve. Sigh.
Miss you, Brother Bear.

It has been a long, draining, challenging day, and we’re expecting another overnight low around the freezing mark, so I decided to light a fire and kick back with a glass of my favorite Pinot Noir by Peter Brum. I’ve been watching the fire, and my brain is swarming with thoughts:

• Wouldn’t it be cool if we could travel and talk to each other via floo powder, like in the Harry Potter series? I think of the time when Sirius appeared in the fireplace of the common room, which then reminds me of how he appeared again when Harry activated the Resurrection Stone. I have seen that movie at least a half-dozen times, and I cry at that scene every, single time.
• Did I set my variables correctly in the columns and rows, or are they backwards? What the heck is the difference, and are they “within” or “between” comparisons? Did I choose the correct ANOVA measurement? Am I going to finish this paper in time? What will I do if I cannot disprove the null hypothesis? This paper is the groundwork for my dissertation, and I haven’t even entertained the thought of starting over with a new topic.
• I think about the first camp bonfire that I can remember: roasting s’mores and singing while the camp leader played guitar.
• I think about the house fire that I covered while working as a newspaper reporter: a family watching their house being gutted from the inside-out.
• Life is like fire sometimes. Once it starts blazing, it’s too late to change your mind and decide you didn’t want to light it. You have to wait it out; let it burn. I hear the whoosh, pop, crackle and think about the things that feel like they are whooshing, popping and crackling in my own life. Sometimes circumstances feel out of control or undesired, but then I remember that the safety mesh that keeps the fire from tumbling onto the hearth (and into my den, setting my house ablaze) is like God’s hand in my life. Sometimes, it feels like he lets the fire rage, and when I’m in the middle of it, it can feel unbearable, but then I am reminded that he has everything under control; there is nothing to fear.
• I wonder about my colleague who died. He wasn’t married and had no kids, but he still left behind a family. I think about dying sometimes. I hope that I’m an old woman when the Lord brings me home — though not miserably old, just contentedly so. If he were to take me sooner, then I trust that God would take care of the boys, not only for their physical well-being, but also emotionally. But still — I’m not in a hurry to leave. What’s ironic is that if I were to suddenly die, then I’m sure that somehow, someone could attribute it to my being overweight. And yet, look at my colleague, and my friend’s dad, and other seemingly healthy, active people who actually exercised on purpose. I tell ya, it isn’t very motivating. Yeah, yeah — I know I need to be more active and get back to being physically fit, but sheesh — if people are dying who actually like to work out, then what hope is there for the rest of us?! I’m just sayin’.
• The fire is still burning out, and I don’t like to leave it unattended, so I can’t go to bed yet. Come to think of it, I don’t know exactly what I’d do if somehow it did escape the safety mesh. I suppose I’d go fetch the fire extinguisher and hope that it still worked after having not been used for however many years it has been stored under the kitchen sink. I should probably look into testing &/or replacing it.