Legacy Letters
Posted on | May 16, 2012 | 2 Comments
The kids and I started studying Latin this year. There are lots of really intellectual opinions out there on why Latin is worth studying, and I agree with them. But I have to be honest, and tell you I think it’s just plain cool to see where some of our words come from. The connection between a word used thousands of years ago and a derivative we use today excites the history lover in me. One of my favorite Latin words so far is clamo, which means I shout. We get the word clamor from clamo. Clamor…the writer in me likes the word clamor. It rolls off the tongue and the pen well.
Needless to say, when a friend sent me the following text, originally tweeted by Rick Warren, the nerd in me smiled.
“The true meaning of radical is ROOTED. Latin radicalis “of the root.” In math, linguistics, botany, etc, it always means the root.”
One of the things on my list of writing topics was a major category titled Letters from Lolo. For a long time, I’ve wanted to begin this project. The idea came to me while driving home one day nearly a year ago. The song “Legacy” by Nichole Nordeman was playing on the radio. At the time, I had been pondering the following verse in Deuteronomy.
“Only be careful, and watch yourselves closely so that you do not forget the things your eyes have seen or let them fade from your heart as long as you live. Teach them to your children and to their children after them.” Deuteronomy 4:9
As I listened to that song and thought about this verse, my natural response was, “I need to write letters to my children and the generations of children coming after them.” There’s not a more perfect legacy for a writer to leave for those she loves than words from the heart and a life that lives up to them.
Legacy letters…Letters from Lolo.
I want to leave a legacy, but what kind and for what reason? A full answer to that would require many blogs, but in short I’d have to say I want my children in the succeeding generations to be rooted.
In love.
In identity.
In Christ.
I want them to have a sense of family history, a sense of spiritual history, a sense of belonging in the context of history…HIStory.
I want them to be rooted…rooted and radical.
I don’t want them to adhere to the empty modern definition of radical marked by a going against the grain simply for the sake of going against the grain. I don’t want them to jump on bandwagons with nothing more than parroted reasons they don’t even own for themselves.
I want to them to be truly radical, living lives grounded in truths they’ve heard, then tried and tested on their own, so that when the storms of society rage, they’ll dig deep and drink and find themselves standing strong. That’s the legacy I want to leave, and I’m just radical enough to believe that God can use what I write along with my desperate prayers as a mother to see that generations of my children know and walk with Him.
Expect to see some Letters from Lolo popping up here on the blog. They keep me up at night, writing themselves into my dreams for my family to come.
Have you ever thought about what kind of legacy you want to leave for your kids?
Lists and Leadings
Posted on | May 15, 2012 | No Comments
Lists. They bring order and peace to my world. Whenever I’m feeling chaotic, I make a list. A list of To Dos, a list for the plan of the day, and most recently, I wrote a list of things to write about. It was much more extensive than I thought it would be. I often want to write during the day about some little thing I saw or did or read, but what I want to say won’t fit nicely into a status update for Facebook. Neither does it go along with the usual spiritual reflection my blogs tend to be, but I’ve decided to try writing a little more, so you may see a little more Dirt & Divinity in your inbox and on Facebook.
One of the things I feel led to write about more is homeschooling. In addition to writing and photography, homeschooling is a huge passion of mine. Photography is a creative outlet for me. Capturing images and editing them brings a unique kind of joy to my life. It’s just plain fun. I’ve often said writing is like breathing, but I think a more accurate metaphor would involve a pressure cooker. Writing opens my emotional valves and let’s all the steam out. I suppose that’s why I say it’s like breathing, because after I write I can usually breathe a little easier.
If I had to describe homeschooling, I’d have to say it’s like eating. It nourishes me. I love learning. I could read books all day. You wanna make me happy? Give me a book on history. I have an elementary education degree with a minor in history. I should’ve pursued a secondary education degree in history. And don’t tell anyone, but I secretly love math. I really do. Fractions are so stinking cool. So is algebra.
Numbers are everywhere, including music. (Insert big happy sigh.) I stand in absolute awe of how something so moving and emotional is also so ordered and logical. The combination of those qualities is the height of beauty to me. (I know. I’m a total nerd. I have the glasses to prove it.)
But here’s the thing…I get to share all that passion with my kids EVERY DAY! I’m living a dream. People talk all the time about how much patience it must require. It does. I didn’t have much when I started, but I knew I’d have to learn how to work through that. Our first year homeschooling was about learning to work together without hurting one another. Our second year was about figuring out learning styles and matching that up with curricula and teaching methods. This year, our third, we are finally falling in love with learning. (Well, I was already in love with learning. The kids are finally coming around.)
I realize many of you who read this blog may not be into homeschooling, but don’t worry. I have no plans to turn Dirt & Divinity into a homeschooling blog. Dirt & Divinity is about being in process, running the race God’s set in front of me. A huge part of my race is run in a classroom in a big red barn with two beautiful boys, and I want to share more of that.
What about you? Where is your race run? How is God moving in the everyday stuff of your life?
Daddy Boot Camp
Posted on | May 10, 2012 | 1 Comment
Like Travis when he first met Old Yeller, I’ve wanted to chuck rocks at my own yeller dog, lately. Sure, he was cute when he was little, but he’s become an unruly 75 pound puppy, and the truth is it’s all my fault. I haven’t trained him. Last week, he jumped on my son in an attempt to get a pillow from him and left several 3-inch scratches on his back. Not cool. They say dogs are supposed to be faithful and loving companions, but all I saw was a selfish, undisciplined beast. That all changed this week when Ben went into Mommy Boot Camp
Ben was introduced to a leash, a gentle dog training collar and a new Momma who was lovingly and patiently in charge. I had a new dog by the end of Day One. My gentle giant emerged and has been a joy to own. Putting that leash around his neck was like binding love and faithfulness around my sweet baby boy dog, and that reminded me of this verse.
Proverbs 3:3 “Let love and faithfulness never leave you; bind them around your neck, write them on the tablet of your heart.”
It also reminded me of a time in my life when I was a selfish beast in my relationships. I will never stop being grateful to God for stepping in when I was doing nothing more than leaving gashes in the hearts of those I was called to love the most. God brought me through His Daddy Boot Camp for the next year (I’m much more stubborn than my dog, and it took God a bit longer to get results with me). It was a year of beautiful training during which I learned that love isn’t just a noun; it’s a verb that leads the heart to do what love does regardless of how it feels.
You know, if you take the Bible seriously at all you can’t gloss over the following verses from 1 Corinthians 13:4-7.
“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrong. Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.”
Challenging words to live by. Difficult words to live by.
Very others oriented. Very unself-focused.
I need to warn you. When you do what love does without the feelings of love, you will feel like you’re faking it. In fact, this moment of decision is often THE turning point in relationships, the point where we believe the lie that faking it is dishonest and we must be honest in our relationships or get out.
The truth is it’s in those moments that our faithfulness shines the most. In our marriages, it’s when our vows move from being mere words to actions that guide us. In our familial relationships, it’s when blood is thicker than water and all becomes water under the bridge.
I wish I could tell you putting this into practice is easy. It’s not. You will have to face the big gaping hole of unfulfilled hopes and dreams. You will face the canyon of resignation that things may never change, but for those of you who are Christians, you will be more like Christ than you’ve likely ever been. And if you add prayer to all that loving action, you might discover that the power to change things in your relationship begins with you choosing to live with a radical definition of love, one not based in feelings but based in faithfulness.
So, today ask yourself a question God taught me to ask myself many years ago.
What can I do that would speak love uniquely to (fill in the blank with the person you are called to love)?
As I began to put that into practice (and I need to tell you I had to do it through gritted teeth), things began to change. The people in my life softened. Slowly, the feelings began to accompany the actions. New patterns were created in communicating. I began to see that what I was longing for couldn’t be given by the people in front of me. I began to see and separate the real issues in my present relationships from the issues in past relationships (what we call baggage).
Slowly, resignation was squished as hope was born.
I can’t do justice to this topic in 700 words or less, but I’m hoping and trusting that, today, those of you who need to read this will enter into Daddy Boot Camp, allowing Him to bind love and faithfulness around your neck, allowing Him to lead you and give you hope to love with faithfulness. Much love. –Lois
Questions, Bravery, and Trust
Posted on | May 4, 2012 | 2 Comments
When I titled this blog Dirt & Divinity, I put a tagline under it. Life as a Work in Progress. It reminds me that God isn’t looking for perfection. He doesn’t need or expect me to know everything. As a result, I tend to ask a lot of questions. Sometimes I find answers or partial answers. Other times I end up with more questions or even zilch.
I posted a couple questions on Facebook the other day.
“On the Cross, why did Jesus say, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” He KNEW the Father. He understood His call to the Cross. What happened as He took on the full wrath of God for our sin that caused Him to ask such a question? What am I missing in this passage?”
I had some brave folks respond to my question with various answers. Yes, I think it takes bravery to ask and answer hard and potentially controversial questions about God and the Bible, especially on the sometimes shallow and often mean spirited platform that Facebook can be. I really appreciated my friends sharing their thoughts.
2 Corinthians 5:21 says that God made Jesus, who had never sinned, to be sin so that in Him we might become right with God. Some pointed out that while Jesus understood His call and the reason for the Cross the experience of it caused Him to utter those words.
I get what they’re saying. “Why have you forsaken me?” is a cry that we might utter in the horrific agony of death on a Cross, with a Father who could in fact save you from it but isn’t. But I just can’t help but ask, “Why did He ask why?” He understood why. Why didn’t He say, “Father, help me!” or “Abba, I need you!”
Clearly He felt abandoned and that makes Jesus so human, so emotional, so fragile.
I suppose I see Jesus as above His humanity sometimes, outside of it, even though I know better. Hebrews 2:17 says, “For this reason he had to be made like them, fully human in every way, in order that he might become a merciful and faithful high priest in service to God, and that he might make atonement for the sins of the people.”
As I thought about the reality of Jesus’ humanity, I tried imagining Him on the Cross. I can’t really, given that I’ve never suffered physical abuse of any kind. What’s it like to hang on two pieces of wood with gravity pulling at your body causing it sag in a position that makes breathing difficult? What’s it like to be beaten beyond human recognition, slashed with whips, cut, bruised, bleeding? What’s it like to see your mother and the ones you love watching you die? Where was He mentally, emotionally? What kind of bravery does it take to willing offer yourself up for all this for people who won’t even get it?
No. I can’t imagine any of that. The only thing I can relate to in His words is that He felt abandoned by His Father.
Which reminded me that Jesus understands us.
Completely.
Physically. Emotionally. Mentally. Spiritually
And maybe especially in regards to the effect that sin has on the human heart. How it drags us far from our heavenly Father.
Another friend shared a link that talked about Psalm 22. Jesus’ question is from the first verse of that Psalm which goes on to describe what sounds eerily like Jesus’ experience on the Cross. It would be like Jesus to utter those words to turn the hearts of His people to the truth about Himself and His Father prophesied in that Psalm.
Do I feel like I have a definitive answer as to why Jesus asked why? No, and I’m okay with that.
I was reminded that Christ knows what it feels like to feel far from the Father because of sin, even if it wasn’t His own sin that gave Him such knowledge. He knows what it feels like to be abandoned by the ones who should love you the most, even if the only reason He experienced those feelings was to be able to relate to us. He knows what it’s like to have questions, hard gut wrenching questions about God’s faithfulness when we are hurting in ways we’ve never hurt before, ways that can cause us to either doubt or grow in faith.
Jesus gets you. He gets me, too.
And if Psalm 22 is the full expression of the heart of Christ, we see that in spite of the horrific agony, in spite of the question, in spite of feeling utterly alone, He chose to trust His Father, which only leads me to other questions.
Can I be brave enough to trust Him, too? When the unimaginable happens? When injustice marks my life? When I feel completely alone?
Can you?
Craving Stillness
Posted on | April 13, 2012 | 4 Comments
Quiet
I crave quiet
And peace and rest
No
It’s stillness I’m craving
That sweet place of slow life
Like when you lie down on spring grass
Under a sky so blue
With a light breeze that holds too much warmth at bay
No sounds except those Created
Where the ticking clock
Ticks and tocks
And ticks…and tocks…
And ticks…
…and tocks
slowly
slowly
slowing down
Until the place becomes a person
And you find that you are Still
A Few Days Late, But Always in Season
Posted on | April 11, 2012 | 1 Comment
Irritated, I walk hard back to the elevator. The pool looks inviting. There’s just a woman and her small children out at the relatively early hour. We’re heading to the beach on this final morning of vacation for a few hours of last minute relaxation, but I don’t have the code to the gate that grants access. Yes, I could ask the lady for it, but I don’t. Why do I always have to do things the hard way?
NOTE TO SELF: It’s okay to ask for help.
SELF TO NOTE: Then why does it make me want to throw up!?
This Easter morning, I feel the weight of it all underneath the irritation. The great spiritual book on Lent I recommended to a friend but didn’t read myself. She probably did. My fasting of coke zero that lasted a whole three days. My complete lack of preparing my children for the holiday this year. Did we even talk about Easter and Christ and the Cross at all this week on vacation? We aren’t even going to church this morning.
Thought after thought pours down on me like thick tar. Forgetting the code is the match that lights the whole of me on fire, spewing condemnation at the woman in the mirror for being such a spiritual failure as a mother and wife, a child of God…
I breathe a deep, defeated sigh as I step onto the elevator grateful no one is in it. When I hate myself, I can barely tolerate being around people. Shame is an ugly knife that disfigures us, making us half human and half hate. It spews in and out of us like lava, scorching us until our hearts are covered in black hardness and we lie caked in ashes.
I thought of the woman at the pool and her children. Does she know Christ? Is she a person of faith or is this just another day in the year? As I often do, I feel the weight of imaginary judgment coming from others toward her and compassion rises up in me. His compassion. It’s overwhelmingly tender and soft and good. It flows over me like oil infused with patience and kindness and love.
“This day is for her, my sweet. It’s for you, too.”
Easter.
Christ on a Cross.
Dying in Shame.
For My Sin and Yours.
So We Wouldn’t Have To.
And Joy in Doing It.
All So He Could Rise Up on This Glorious Day.
Bringing Me With Him Out of the Ashes.
And just like that grace pours like rain and the burning shame sizzles to vapor and wisps away in the Wind and I know I’m loved.
I don’t even mind when the elevator stops before my floor and a man gets on. And when I return with the code I’m not surprised to hear Noah pipe up and say, “That nice lady gave us the code, Mom.”
“Of course, she did Noah.” I respond with a smile.
Happy Easter, my friends…a few days late, but always in season.
Mercy Loan
Posted on | March 28, 2012 | 1 Comment
Her name is Mercy. She was born in their hearts several years ago. Now she’s in their arms. As I saw the pics posting from Manila, I couldn’t help but laugh and cry at the same time. He brought her into the world, set her apart and brought them to her. It turns out she’s going to be a perfect fit for my life-loving friends the LaGranges. It’s sheer mystery this love of God that reaches down to the dust of the earth and prepares the path of the precious to the arms of the parent.
Adoption is the heart of God.
Ephesians 1:5-6 “Long before he laid down earth’s foundations, he had us in mind, had settled on us as the focus of his love, to be made whole and holy by his love. Long, long ago he decided to adopt us into his family through Jesus Christ. (What pleasure he took in planning this!)” The Message
Do you know you are among the precious?
Have you sensed Him leading you down the path?
Do you have any idea how good it is to be home in His arms?
I can’t help but think of my dark eyed babies nearly 9000 miles away.
How they are among the precious.
How He’s leading them down the path.
How good His arms must feel as they learn to rest in them.
They aren’t up for adoption, although I wish some of them were. They are up for sponsoring, though. So far, five children have been sponsored by those of you who have taken this journey with me. How do I even begin to thank you? I have another 3 boys who need someone willing to be a difference in their lives through Mission of Mercy sponsorship.
Some of us are a difference through adoption, like my friends the LaGranges who were a mission to Mercy. Others take care of children from their own extended families. Many become missionaries and live among little ones everyday of their lives. Sponsorship is just one more beautiful way to care for the precious among us.
Read here for more information on sponsorship through Mission of Mercy. Write me with your questions at loissolet@dirtanddivinity.com. When you and your family are ready, I would like to have you over for dinner or meet for coffee, and you can choose the child God’s set aside for your family to love. It’s an investment with rewards that are guaranteed.
“Mercy to the needy is a loan to God, and God pays back those loans in full.” Proverbs 19:17
Searching Hope
Posted on | March 23, 2012 | 6 Comments
The mugginess of the heat, drenched with humidity, engulfed me in the early morning hours as I quietly exited my hotel room each day. Up by 5am, I tried to make as little noise as possible so my friend could catch another hour of sleep. The lobby was quiet except for the sound of the kitchen staff clanging their way to set up the buffet. As I waited for the restaurant to open, it was a toss up as to which I was looking forward to more: the strong brew of Cambodian coffee or the slightly cooler air in the dining room.
It was on one of these mornings, as I sipped my coffee, I asked God to speak to me…to give me hope beyond what I could see…something to cling to, something to put my faith in when all I could see was despair. A gentle whisper spoke with a settling peace to my heart, “Psalm 72.” I wasn’t sure what I would find as I thumbed through the pages of gold-rimmed rice paper, searching hope for those who worked the green, grassy fields, the ones who dried the golden grains in the sun, for those who live under the rule of a king, alongside a democracy that mocks the kind of freedom we take for granted.
Maybe you had to be there, to hear the stories, to see, not just in pictures but in purpose, face to face…
Those of you who were there will read and understand. May God make up the difference for the rest. May we all pray.
Psalm 72
1-8 Give the gift of wise rule to the king, O God, the gift of just rule to the crown prince.
May he judge your people rightly,
be honorable to your meek and lowly.
Let the mountains give exuberant witness;
shape the hills with the contours of right living.
Please stand up for the poor,
help the children of the needy,
come down hard on the cruel tyrants.
Outlast the sun, outlive the moon—
age after age after age.
Be rainfall on cut grass,
earth-refreshing rain showers.
Let righteousness burst into blossom
and peace abound until the moon fades to nothing.
Rule from sea to sea,
from the River to the Rim.
9-14 Foes will fall on their knees before God,
His enemies lick the dust.
Kings remote and legendary will pay homage,
kings rich and resplendent will turn over their wealth.
All kings will fall down and worship,
and godless nations sign up to serve Him,
Because He rescues the poor at the first sign of need,
the destitute who have run out of luck.
He opens a place in His heart for the down-and-out,
He restores the wretched of the earth.
He frees them from tyranny and torture—
when they bleed, He bleeds;
when they die, He dies.
15-17 And live! Oh, let Him live!
Deck Him out in Sheba gold.
Offer prayers unceasing to Him,
bless Him from morning to night.
Fields of golden grain in the land,
cresting the mountains in wild exuberance,
Cornucopias of praise, praises
springing from the city like grass from the earth.
May He never be forgotten,
His fame shine on like sunshine.
May all godless people enter His circle of blessing
and bless the One who blessed them.
18-20 Blessed God, Israel’s God,
the one and only wonder-working God!
Blessed always His blazing glory!
All earth brims with His glory.
Yes and Yes and Yes.
Inspiration for Action
Posted on | March 22, 2012 | 1 Comment
Processing photographs left little time for processing feelings while I was in Cambodia. If I wasn’t behind the lens, I was sorting through photos in the hotel. I arrived home on Saturday and gave myself permission to just be, to feel, to process all that I saw. I’m going to be processing a while.
I began sorting through the photos one more time to upload them for my team members to access. Came across some beautiful gems like this one. I love the way the little boy is looking up at my friend Joanna’s face. He was smitten, I think.
As I also take time to sort through this experience I’m left with a hodge podge of emotions. They range from extreme sadness to enthusiastic hope, and realistically, a good bit of both is in order. It’s tempting to just see the need and feel overwhelmed, and it’s equally tempting to just focus on the hope in order to present a pleasant, palatable picture. The truth is these children’s lives are lived in the divide between dirt and divinity.
Between disease infested waters and the provision of filtration systems.
Between poverty and a path to prosperity.
Between karma and Christ.
I suppose I’m praying that their need continues to inspire my nobility. I can’t help them all, but as Dareth shared the day we left, simply doing what I can is enough.
Lots of thoughts running around in my head, but here are a few.
None of these people are beggars. They work. Their children work. They survive and are grateful for what they have. Their homes aren’t much, but they are clean and they treasure and take care of what they have. And yet, their need is apparent and on going.
Sponsorship brings education, clean water, medical check-ups and hope to the lives of these families. I’m convinced that the vast majority of my friends and acquaintances can afford to sponsor a child for $34 a month. It’s the price of a meal out. It’s the cost of a new pair of jeans. It’s the equivalent of $1.13 day, less than a bottle of Dasani or Dr. Pepper at your favorite lunch hangout.
I know that I have often wondered if the money I send will actually help the child I’m sponsoring. I’m here to tell you that it will. It won’t take care of everything. Their families will still have to work hard, but your support will be a huge steppingstone for their children to rise up out of a poverty that leaves most of us speechless.
I have 10 children with pictures and profiles who need a sponsor today. Check out this information regarding sponsorship from Mission of Mercy’s website, and when you have firmly decided to sponsor, I will meet you at your convenience to introduce you to the children who are waiting for someone like you who is ready to share the blessings they have been given. Remember, God doesn’t ask us to do it all. He simply asks us to do what we can.
Put together a short video recapping our trip. Hope it inspires you to action.
Following Him –Lois
The Power of Paint
Posted on | March 16, 2012 | 5 Comments
When she asked me to go on this trip, my friend Mandy said, “You don’t have to paint. I promise. Just take pictures.” She knows painting is not my thing, not because I’m unwilling, but because I’m unskilled…very unskilled. All I can say is, this is the most rewarding photography I have ever done. I’ve always known there’s a photojournalist in me. She just needed a story to tell.
Today, I want to tell you about the power of paint. If you’ve never lived here 
then maybe you can’t appreciate this power, but if you’ve lived without being surrounded by beauty or lived without someone who could or would create it for you, then maybe you can relate to this story. For the rest of us, I have a little activity. (Thanks, Tracy.)
Go outside and mark off in your yard a square that’s 8×9. Now bring your entire family into that space including your pets. If there are less than 5 of you, you must bring large pillows or stuffed animals to round out a family of five in your home. Bring yourself some pots and pans, a small 2×2 table, each a blanket, 2 good-sized storage containers, and 3 changes of clothes each. Take some time to figure out where you will all lie down to sleep. Now sit there for 30 minutes.
The only place you have to go is into the river, which is also where you use the bathroom while squatting over the open back of your home. You can go for a ride in your canoe, if it isn’t being used for fishing. Your children will share a canoe with a few other families in order to get to school, but they will have to bail it out the entire way so they don’t sink. They will also have to row themselves there, back home again for lunch, then back to school and home again. And while I know it’s unpleasant, you need to put 5 to 10, 2-inch Madagascar Hissing Cockroaches in your home with you, even when you’re sleeping.
Each one of these kids at the Dream Center comes from a home like the one I described above. Stop for a minute and think about that…
Now, you are ready to hear about the power of paint.
This week, ladies from our group worked tirelessly repainting 6 large rooms for the children at the Dream Center. We hung up curtains, placed teddy bears on their beds, along with a small blanket, and then we got ready for the big reveal.
One of the missionaries here warned us that the Cambodian people were not an affectionate or overly expressive people, so we shouldn’t be disappointed by the children’s lack of a response when they saw the rooms. Their reserved natures were something we already noticed during the week, so we were prepared.
What we weren’t prepared for was their actual response.
For the first time, they reached out to us, hugged us, asked to take a picture with us and then they wept…
And as the two beauties holding bears shook in my arms and held on to me as if they had never been held, I understood the power of paint.
Can you even begin to fathom what this moment was like for them? What it must feel like to go from that 8×9 shack to this beauty? Do you understand the sobs?
Poverty doesn’t reach out and rob us of just material goods or our health. It robs our souls of dignity and worth.
What we did this week isn’t much in and of itself. We simply hung curtains, put bears, blankets and goodie bags on beds and painted rooms, but with every stroke of the brush, with every roll on the wall, the power of love came from a can and colored their hearts with healing and hope.
May you take joy in their smiles and not forget their brothers and sisters who still live on the water.