Our eight-year-old granddaughter says she loves Thanksgiving. Since her daddy is our son and her mommy is Native American, she has a unique perspective on Turkey Day. She tells us she's a Thanksgiving fan because "I'm a Pilgrim and an Indian!" I guess that means she can eat from both sides of the table?
I've always been interested in following politics. But even I am sick of politics right now! We've O.D.'ed on it these past few months! Suddenly, all those pundits on cable news sound like that indistinct blather when adults speak on a Charlie Brown special.
The news said there were 33 Chilean miners in that mine a half mile underground. Some of the miners said there were 34. God was there.
Even seasoned reporters knew it. It was virtually impossible to report on the amazing condition of the miners and the saving of every life without using the word "miracle."
We had a few days off. The phone rang in our little cabin in the woods. A family member called and said, "You need to turn on the news. A plane just crashed into the World Trade Center." I had the news on for much of the next three days - trying to absorb a scene that I had no mental file folder for. I felt sickened. Vulnerable. And profoundly sad - beyond words.
Radio stations were calling, asking if I would do an interview the next day to talk about what had happened. How could I help thousands of listeners process this unprecedented trauma when I was still trying to sort out my own thoughts and feelings? Then I just bowed my head and prayed: "God, would You please help me see what's happening today through Your eyes? What are You seeing here?"
With children heading back to school, I'm in flashback mode. To when it was our cherubs leaving for school each morning.
It was always exciting getting to the point where they could leave. The war cries of "Who took my socks?" and "I can't believe the dog ate my homework!" (Strange since we didn't have a dog.) Getting up a little earlier each morning, thus having to set new records for dressing your body and brushing your dragon mouth. Pity the person who happened to be standing between them and the back door at launch time.
The hurts. And the hallelujahs. That pretty much sums up two of the currents here in the first days of Warrior Leadership Summit.
Not long ago, I walked along our Identity Wall where the young people here had just posted the pictures I'd asked them to draw. What I saw broke my heart.
A few days ago, I wrote about my "everywhere God" - the God whose "omnipresence" enables Him to be everywhere all the time. Including on that day when three members of my family were in medical crisis at exactly the same hour in three different parts of the country.
Since it happened in Arkansas, it hit pretty close to home. In a campground, described by a vacationer as "one of the most beautiful places on earth," hundreds of campers were overwhelmed by a "wall of water" that came in the middle of the night. A river that's normally about knee deep rose to a depth of 23 feet during the night - eight feet in one hour! I'm looking at the 8' walls in my office and trying to imagine a wall of water almost three times higher than that.
It's been one of those weeks. Our family's been hit with one medical crisis after another. One in the Northeast, one in the Southwest, one in the Midwest. Phone calls, e-mails and texts have been flying back and forth across the country as we've tried to keep up with each others' emerging diagnoses and treatments.
It always makes me feel sad when another marriage comes apart. Some separations you can see coming. Others come as a shock...like Al and Tipper Gore.
Wednesday's USA Today had them front and center on the front page, in a passionate hug and kiss at the 2004 Democratic Convention. But the headline shouts: "Gores to split after 40 years." One pop culture professor calls it "absolutely stunning. They appeared to be a totally functional modern, working couple." That's what makes the author of "Marriage, A History" conclude that "It's impossible to tell what goes on in a marriage."
