Any Room for Christmas This Year?

I don’t know about you, but every year goes by faster than the year before, cliché but true. This year I can say with certainty I did not get all my Christmas stuff put away before I took it out again. A few items have been in a corner all year. Maybe this year I’ll leave it all up!

I love this time of year. It’s the lights and the music I love the most. Days in the Pacific Northwest can be so dark and dreary. All the holiday lights brighten us up for a month. And there is nothing like Christmas music, secular and sacred. I can’t get enough and have way too many holiday albums.

I decorate, throw a couple of parties and host Christmas for my family. It keeps me hopping from task to task, and sometimes over shadows why I’m doing all this in the first place. It’s hard to keep sane at Christmas. We have all our normal activity, and on top add decorating, extra cooking, shopping, extra evenings out, and entertaining. No wonder we collapse and sometimes forget to put it all away.

For my family, this year is different. We will be absent my sister, who passed away in February, and we just lost our beloved aunt the day before Thanksgiving. Grief on grief is a heavy load. You can feel like you are weighted down, and your brains have been replaced by cotton batting. What was it I was just doing with these scissors?

I remember sitting on the steps in our home at the end of Christmas 22 years ago. In that year my husband and I lost my mother, both of his parents, and my grandfather. My mom died right after New Year’s. Talk about December not being put away. His dad and my grandfather died on the same day in early November. We were not sure what Christmas would bring. It was the first year for me to take on hosting. I wanted to make it special because we’d lost so much that year. At the end of the day, alone on the stairs, we cried and reflected over the day and the absences. The biggest revelation was that we’d had a joyous day, laughter, tears, good food, fun; we had fun, a miracle, considering our year.

But isn’t that what Christmas is, a miracle? God became a man and lived among us. God came near, Emmanuel, God with us. He came, not as a King or splendid dignitary. He came as a baby, born in a stable because there was room nowhere else. He came to show us what relationships with God could truly be. He came to die for us, so we could experience that relationship with Him for eternity. Christmas reminds us of how much God loves us. The lights and the music, the beauty remind us of His beauty, and light and song. The gathering of family reminds us of the relationship He desires to have with us. The sharing of gifts reminds us of the greatest gift, Himself.

This Christmas we are fewer, down to the siblings, and now missing one of us as well. More of us are in heaven than here, our aunt being the newest to celebrate eternal Christmas. It casts a different perspective. Every Christmas since I lost my mom, I remember her, and at some point have a good cry. She made Christmas so very special for her children. We had magical holidays at the snowy base of Mt. Hood. For my first 13 years I had a white Christmas. Mom combined lights, music, food and special gifts, put together with very little money, to make memorable days. Dad added his own fun. He always bought his own stocking gifts and signed them “Santa”. He also provided our yearly reading of the Christmas story, with his personal annotations as he read along. I’ve kept this tradition and some others from our childhood.

Our pastor brought up a lovely picture from Scripture. At the birth of Jesus there was no room for him. And that is still the case in many hearts and minds today. Our culture has taken the holiday and made it anything but a celebration of Christ’s birth. Even Christians get so busy they lose sight of Christ. Yet, even though we often have no room for Him, He has room for us. Before His crucifixion, Jesus shared with the disciples that He was going away, and would be preparing a place for them, and all who trust Him. (John 14) In that place there are many rooms, an abundance of room, room enough for everyone. My parents, and grandparents, parents in-law, my sister and my aunt and uncle are all sharing those rooms as I write. There was a place prepared for them. There is one for me too. Do you have a reservation?

“O come to my heart Lord Jesus, there’s room in my heart for thee.”

The Morning After

I wrote the following on November 9. Now a couple weeks have passed, and some of the immediate anxiety has lifted, but a lot remains. I waited to share this. I wanted to let things settle with in me a bit. Time is a good way to gain some perspective, but even on the morning after, there was perspective to be found.

It’s the morning after the election. The sun still came out. It’s shining right now through the windows on my beautiful, confused eleventh graders. They are taking a test. Life continues. That is grace. And grace will carry us through the months and days ahead, even if we don’t know from whence it comes.

It isn’t hyperbole that people are frightened. They heard the rhetoric; they want to know if their Hispanic or Muslim friend will be taken away. Or if their bullies will have even more power to spew hate. My friend’s twelve year old was frightened to go to school today, worried that everything has changed. One student even believed a Twitter feed talking about the Purge beginning after the election with the permission of the victor.

My eleventh graders have talked about fleeing to Canada.  Of course, they’d have to convince their parents to leave as well, but no matter.  We had a great discussion about how, despite a horrid election process, America is still a great place to live. We can speak out against the establishment and not fear for our lives. I said the greater challenge is for us to stay and contribute to America, even if that contribution is small.  We can be kind and refuse to bully. We can help and stand up for those who are bullied. We can look for our own prejudice and seek to be more accepting and open. We can promote what’s best in American.

Those eleventh graders are part of what is great about America. I have the immense and staggering privilege to contribute to their future. My responsibility isn’t telling them who to vote for or not. My responsibility is to help them learn to think for themselves, to ask questions and not settle for the status quo.

In that I can find some understanding of the victors. They voted the way they did to change the status quo as they see it. I may not agree with their thinking, but I can sympathize with wanting change. Maybe that’s where we can come together. Maybe not. But we can try.

Greater still, how can I radiate my belief in a God whom I believe is in control whether we see or even believe in Him? How can I represent Jesus in this broken world?  How can I draw people to Him rather than chase them away? Again, grace comes to the top. I must be a person of acceptance, unconditional love, grace, mercy, kindness and forgiveness; I have to be like Jesus. If I, who believe God holds the future firmly in His grasp, live in fear of the temporal world, what does that say to those who are searching? I need to reflect hope, but first I have to believe it.

Striving to live as Jesus lived doesn’t require more effort on my behalf; it requires less effort and more dependence on His Holy Spirit to fill and use me. That’s where I get my ability to live like Jesus. So again it’s all about surrendering myself to God and allow Him total access. That’s where the power lies. I just need to tap it.

The sun came up on November 9^th.  I saw it. I received notes and phone calls of encouragement from friends around the world, who live with me in the struggle to be Jesus’ person in a broken world. I felt my frustration and anger, but I also felt peace.

And now several days have past, and that perspective is what holds firm. I feel less angry, more resolved to be whatever it is God wishes me to be in this country, this state, this town, this school and neighborhood. I believe I can make a difference. My God reigns.

Making America Great

There is something in us that believes things will get better. Even in ‘glass is half empty’ people like myself, there is still hope. I think that is why we put so much weight on the shoulders of politicians. We continually hope that this one will do it, make it happen, whatever ‘it’ is. So when we are faced with a seemingly no win situation, we continue to work for an answer, because we cling to hope; it’s all we have.

I see very little to hope for in this year’s presidential election. The candidates on both sides present very troubling choices to me. I want a candidate on a white horse who will not only promise a better future, but who could actually bring that to pass.  I’m afraid there is no such person. In all the years of our country’s short history we have never had a perfect president.  Sometimes it’s important to remember that. We hang all our hopes on one individual, and because they are human, they continually disappoint. This year, for many of us, the disappointment begins earlier.

As a follower of Christ I find myself in a paradox. On the one hand I believe that God is sovereign. Nothing surprises God. He has a plan and purpose for His universe, and that plan will win out. God’s time is not mine. But the Bible is very clear, He has a time frame. I believe in God’s time. I believe in His promise that He holds everything in His control even though it doesn’t much feel that way. His plan will be accomplished regardless the outcome of America’s next election.

On the other hand, I find myself looking for that perfect President to help God along. I think somehow that if we could just find the man or the woman who cares enough to really make America great again, our lives would be better.  Yet, even as I say “great again” I have to wonder, when was that time?  When have we been as great as my idealism remembers? Regardless, I keep looking, and continue to be dismayed and surprised that America doesn’t seem to be going anywhere promising.

But isn’t America God’s nation? The fact is, you won’t find America anywhere in the Bible.  There are those people who believe that America is the new Israel. Seriously. They believe God transferred all of his promises from Israel to America when they blew it. God scattered most of the Jews to the ends of the world, turned His back on them and a few centuries later placed all His hopes on America, home of the brave, land of the free, base of religious freedom. But wherever they found that idea, it wasn’t in the Bible. 

Just because our country was established by white, Anglo Saxon Protestants doesn’t mean it was founded on Christianity.  Judeo –Christian morality perhaps, but not Christianity. Our founding fathers were not evangelical Christians. A quick reading of their biographies will tell you that. Those who believe that “making America great again” means “making America Christian again” are totally misguided. We never were. Interesting how the world believes American is Christian, when most Americans do not.

But ideally, a lot of what we built this country upon has Christian value behind it. And a country with the freedom to practice your religion was a wonderful idea. As were all of our freedoms, especially the idea that our citizens have a voice in what happens (even if those ‘citizens’ were white, protestant men – bit by bit we are getting past even that). I believe God planned for, pushed along and continues to use America for His purpose. I don’t believe America is God’s country.  Most Americans don’t believe that.

Trying to make America more Christian (“great again”) is just wrong. Countries don’t become Christian, people do. And laws don’t make people Christian either. Christianity isn’t something you are forced to wear, or even something you put on by living a certain lifestyle within a certain government. Pro-life laws won’t make American any more Christian. Neither will a ban on gay marriage.  And certainly turning Christianity into a set of laws has never worked.  Politics and religion have never made very good partners, usually both end up twisted in some way. Contrary to popular opinion, Christianity isn’t about laws, or even being good.

Christianity, though viewed so, isn’t a religion. Religions are man-made. Religions have rules and regulations, traditions and mythology, few successes and many failures.  Christianity is a relationship with Jesus Christ. A personal, freely chosen decision to give one’s life to the Sovereign Creator of the Universe. And the New Testament says that in that relationship “the righteous requirements of the law are fulfilled through us.” (Romans 8) God takes residence in a Christian’s life and, if that person opens up their life to God’s power, they can live out God’s law by God’s power.  That is very different than trying to live out God’s laws on our own.  And it is the very opposite of legislating morality on people who do not believe.

To push a Christian agenda on a non-Christian is insane. Christians cannot live out this “agenda” apart from God’s living it for them; how on earth do they expect people without God to do so?  It makes no sense. No wonder people look at Christians like they have two heads. We live in a democracy, and the majority wins. So if the majority of people believe in pro-choice, then that will be the law of the land. If the majority believe in gay marriage, then so be it.  What would make America Christian is if the majority of citizens were Christians, and, they are not.

So, as a Christian, what do I look for when I vote?  I believe there are certain values that America has held, regardless of Christianity.  I share many of those values – justice, freedom of speech and religion, equal rights for all, regardless of race or gender, a belief that human life is important and to be valued. Following this I would look for a candidate who is fiscally responsible while looking out for our less fortunate and preserving the dignity of every citizen. I can stand behind those things. I also believe every American should have the right to make their own choices, and bear the consequences of those choices. I don’t think legislating morality is the answer. I don’t think our government should be our parent – though sometimes (speed limits, safety belts) it is a necessary evil.

I do not look to see if a candidate is a Christian or backed by the Moral Majority or Evangelicals. Well, maybe I look, but it’s not a deal breaker. I do not have to see perfection, because I am far from perfect. I might wish American politics could be more like the TV series West Wing, but I do understand that this type of thinking is romantic idealism.  None of our politicians have the benefit of being confined to a well written script. Life happens and our leaders are human beings who make choices just like us.

What I’d like is someone who wishes to continue my freedom to follow Christ without fear of persecution, and not someone who wants to persecute those who do not believe. And sometimes, like this coming election, I may not see a candidate on either side who best fits my ideal.  What do I do then? I still vote.  I choose the lesser of the evils in my mind. My job is to try and choose the best possible candidate out of the choices given.

I vote because it is my duty as a citizen. I want to be part of America, so my responsibility as an American citizen is to vote, to participate in the process.  I have to make a choice, based on my beliefs, and cast my vote. It is as irresponsible to simply not vote (or write in Mickey Mouse) as it is to move to Canada, or threaten to. This is our country. It is a country that allows us to have our say. Not many countries in the world have that opportunity. This responsibility to vote doesn’t just exist when there is a candidate most like me. Every time there is an election, I am to study the candidates and issues and make the best, educated choice I can.

We, the citizens, make America what she is. We make America great by being involved, voting our conscience and respecting our leaders. We make America great by opening our eyes, holding ideals, but being realistic. We make America great by living our lives in an honorable and honest manner. For me, that means letting God live His character out through me – or striving to do so.  Presidents come and go; we, the people, have the staying power that makes our country something to be proud of.

Embracing Silence

I have spent a lot of time alone this summer. I needed the healing time after my sister died. I also needed the healing time from a stressful year. I easily stress myself out by trying to make everything work as perfectly as possible. The control freak in me is my death. So it is good to have time away without a lot of things to fix.

Alone time at the beach brings with it a lot of silence, whether walking on the beach itself or sitting on our deck early in the morning, the sound of the surf and a lot of birds are often the only thing you hear for long periods of time. We also have the silence of technology – no cable or internet at our beach house. The radio station provides sound bites, if I happen to be listening on the hour. I go to the library to check up on emails and peek at the news, but it’s not a daily thing.

I went home to the suburbs for a week and it took me almost the entire week to notice the biggest noise difference. It wasn’t the neighbors yelling, or the sound of sirens all around. It wasn’t more dogs barking or even kids playing on the block. It was the TV and internet. I get up in the morning, make some breakfast and then turn on the morning news shows. I do exercise to the accompaniment of more morning shows. I browse the internet to get more information, or find new. I realized I spent less time reading, and certainly little time meditating.

At the beach I have made a habit of spending time every morning reading. I start with a little devotional book a friend gave me. I move on to a book I picked up for school, but have found it to be profoundly enriching to my soul, Caring for Words in a Culture of Lies, by Marilyn Chandler McEntyre. And finally I read a few poems by Mary Oliver, a Pulitzer Prize winning poet who has also fed my soul. On average, I have probably spent an hour every morning in this endeavor.At home, I got up and turned on the TV, and it was only at the end of the week I realized I hadn’t cracked any one of those three books. Instead, I’d chosen to fill my head with noise.

I have to wonder why? That home routine has served me for several years now. I can’t tell you when it replaced a more contemplative, spiritual journey. Obviously it has. And replaced it with noise.The Bible says to “be still and know that I am God.”  It’s hard to hear God’s voice amidst noise. It’s hard to find calm amidst noise. It’s hard to let go of stress and find healing amidst noise. So why choose noise? It’s not like I’ve missed any key news points of the summer. I know the political conventions came, and I even read some speeches. I know major populated places have been blown up by crazies, not to mention several police officers as compensation for several people of color. I know there are wars and rumors of wars and fires and floods and earthquakes. So what would I really miss if I took my beach habits home? What if I sought more stillness and silence?

I’ve discovered that starting my day using my time spent in quiet makes for a better day. I know starting my day with contemplative reading also opens up into a time for prayer. I know I’ve processed through a lot of things, talking them over with God in the silence of my back yard. My creative juices have been flowing.  I find myself excited about a new school year. My soul is feeling healthier.

It takes me probably an hour to get ready for work, if that. I usually am up 2 ½ hours before I need to head out. I watch TV, do some exercise and eat breakfast before beginning to get ready for work. What part of that extra 2 ½ hours wouldn’t better be served with some time spent in contemplative reading and prayer? Why did I lose that habit at home?

I think I just got lazy. I think the sound of the morning news shows filled my head so I didn’t have to think too much in the morning. But they filled my head with more anxiety and noise. And heaven only know I don’t need more stress and noise in my life. But because it was easy, I made that my habit.

My major lesson of the summer is my need for silence, stillness. I need to ease into the morning, not with TV, but with quiet reading of words that feed my soul. I need that so much more than the news, especially before heading out for my day with students.

I also see a need to allow for silence throughout the day, especially in conversation. I am so quick to fill silence in conversation. I need to take more time to listen, and that means I need to be silent.  I can be the noise holding someone else back. So I am going to try to talk less (not an easy goal for me) and allow for more silence, hopefully opportunity for my students to talk more.

The interesting thing about silence is that often it isn’t comfortable. When a conversation stops, the silence can feel unending and often we feel the need to fill it. Silence becomes awkward. But perhaps the conversation needed time before continuing. Perhaps by jumping in to fill the silence something important was lost. I have students who cannot work in silence. They must have music, or TV or something making noise, otherwise they can’t think – or so they believe. Maybe it’s the thinking we don’t want to do, so we fill the spaces with noise?  I want to allow for more silence in my conversations, as well as my personal space.

Marilyn McEntyre says, “Give shape to silence so we can see it, not as a void or abyss but as a place to lie down in green pastures and be restored”.

What Must I Do?

I just finished reading about the rich young ruler found in the gospels. The man comes to Jesus and asks “What must I do to be saved” and the young man responds with two of the Ten Commandments “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, strength and mind and love your neighbor as yourself.” Jesus seems to ask if the man is following those words, and the young man says, “yes, and more.” Then the story says, Jesus looked at him and loved him, and then he tells the young man to “go home, sell all you have and follow me.” And the young man left in sadness because he had a lot of wealth.

So, what would we have done in his shoes? What's the point of this story? Some would say we need to all take vows of poverty to be true Christians. Or at least give the bulk of what we have away. We know the 12 disciples left their homes, and some their families, to follow Jesus. We don’t know if they gave all they had to the poor. We know today there are people who have given much of what they have to others and live very simply. Others have given up living in the West to go to third world countries and serve God there. Are they more Christian than those of us who stay home with all our stuff? 

It’s a good question, and even a good challenge, but I’m not so sure it’s the point of this story. The young man believed he lived the Law, and living the Law, to a Jew, was their salvation.  “Do this and you shall live.” The difficulty came in the doing. And that’s true for all of us. Hard as we might try, it’s impossible for us to live up to God’s standard on our own. We would fail as quickly as the young man.

We might be able to go through life without taking another’s life. We might not ever become a cat burglar. But somewhere, or some several somewheres, we’ll find one commandment that trips us up. Like the rich young ruler. When asked to give up all he had and follow Jesus, he couldn’t. Why, because he had much wealth. So? Well, perhaps he loved his wealth too much. Perhaps he loved his wealth more than God or his neighbors. And with Jesus’ request he discovered he did not love God with his all. And being a well-studied young man, he knew he’d just failed the test. He was not living the Law perfectly. He walked away saddened.

But, Jesus loved him. He loved him enough to shortly after their encounter die for him. And in dying for him, and for us, Jesus made another way. A way where the Law was fulfilled through us, not by us. It’s an important distinction. Because no matter how good we think we are, no matter how many bad things we don’t do, it’s never enough.

Seeking salvation by our works will always leave us saddened and walking away knowing we still have not quite done enough. But the point is, we can’t. What God wants from us is that we give Him ourselves. We give him our heart, soul and mind, even if we are not giving Him 100%. God takes an open door and comes in. He brings His Holy Spirit with Him, and they set to work in our lives, shaping us to be the person we long to be, living out the law in and through us. 

The young man needed to rephrase his question. He needed to lead with humility rather than pride. He needed to admit that, though he thought he’d done everything, it hadn’t changed his life. That should have led him to wonder why. Perhaps that was why he came to Jesus in the first place; he didn't feel saved, so he asked the question. Maybe the question should have been: is there something else? Is there another, better, more fulfilling way to find God? And Jesus would say, follow me; let me take hold of your life and change you from the inside out. That's what Jesus asks of  us, to give Him our life, and He'll do the rest.

Losing and Finding My Voice

I had been without a voice for several weeks. After my sister’s death I made friends with bronchitis. It’s a frustrating position to be in, especially as a teacher who makes a living using my voice. I found it difficult to rest my voice long enough for my vocal chords to heal. Coincidentally, at the same time the series topic at church was titled “Finding Your Voice”. I thought that interestingly ironic. I’d been looking for weeks.

But I can lose my voice physically without the more serious issue of losing my voice in my world, which is what the sermon title prodded us to consider. How does one lose their voice in that capacity, and how would you gain it back?

One of my jobs as a teacher is to help my students find their voice. I spend a lot of time getting them to think about what they believe and why they believe it. Do they really own what they say they believe? It takes courage to sound your voice if you find everyone around you is saying something else. So in class we do a lot of activities centered on looking at both sides of an issue. Why do the people I disagree with believe what they believe? What would I say to that? At the end of the school year we embark on a series of debates, and I always enjoy watching the year’s conversations coming together.

As a Christian I also have a voice, if I care to use it. It’s easier sometimes to lose my voice and stay silent when all around me opposition is weighing in. But if I really know why I believe what I believe, what difference does it make?  Their disbelief doesn’t change my belief. Why am I afraid to weigh in? What am I afraid will happen?

I have had the privilege of enjoying friendships with people who hold a broad spectrum of beliefs. Because we are friends first, there is room to “agree to disagree”. In that environment I have learned to use my voice and talk about what I believe (not just my faith, but also my politics). We have had some great conversations. I have learned different perspective. I have strengthened my beliefs and modified them.

But not everyone is so accepting. I work with a couple of people who refuse to see (or hear) me as a Christian because they totally believe that Christians are idiots who probably should not have teaching certificates, especially if they are teaching science. I say “refuse to hear” because they have accepted me as a worthy colleague, believing I have the intellectual capacity to teach, and so since my faith doesn’t fit into their stereotype they ignore it. This has allowed me to listen to some pretty harsh judgments on Christians. Many times I have chosen to keep my voice silent, just so I could hear what they have to say. Other times I have used my voice, only to have them not hear what I was saying.

One time several of us had been reading Annie Dillard and had come together to discuss what we’d read. What I love about Dillard is how she speaks of faith without being, "in your face" about it. She has a subtle voice. One of my colleagues had tried to read For The Time Being. He had to quit because he found it oppressive. 

 In my senior honors class I use the essay by Dillard from which that book came. The essay feels quite dark and nihilistic until you get to the end (it’s also a great example of placing your thesis at the end), where Dillard quotes English writer Malcolm Muggeridge as saying "Either life is always and in all circumstances sacred, or intrinsically of no account; it is inconceivable that it should be in some cases the one, and in some the other.”  She then goes on to give a couple of examples of people making a difference where they live, doing what they can. The larger book more evenly disperses the dark with the promise of light. But it is still a very dark accounting of our world. 

My colleague couldn’t get through it and wasn't sure why. There was just something about that book that bothered him so he had to stop. At the end of our discussion I went back to his feeling, and mentioned that Dillard was a believer in God. Immediately my colleague jumped on that – no wonder he’d been so creeped out, that was the reason. Yet, he’d read other things by her that he’d loved, like Pilgrim at Tinker Creek. I asked him, didn’t you hear her expressions about the creator in Pilgrim? “Creator?” he said, “She doesn’t believe in a creator does she?” Well, in that book she makes references to one. “Really, I never noticed.”  Here Dillard's voice had gone unheard, mostly because it was something he didn’t want, or expect, to hear. Somehow her voice rang clearer in For The Time Being.

I believe God wants me to use my voice in the world around me. How I use it is left up to me. I don’t want people to hear harsh judgement or dogmatic exclusion. I want people to hear that I care about them; that I want to know and spend time with them. I want them to find out that I love Jesus and follow Him. I don’t want them to shut me down because I call myself a Christian. I want to surprise them with a faith that doesn’t fit their stereotype. I want them to hear my voice without censure. It’s a tricky path.

Rachel

My little sister died four months ago, and for a while I ran out of words. Even as I begin this page I struggle. She was relatively young; she'd had some health problems; she developed an infection; she died. We had never been close; there were eight years separating us in age, so I’d never spent a lot of time with her. As adults we celebrated birthdays, holidays, occasional camping trips and even a rare, just for the fun of it, meal together. We talked sporadically on the telephone. However, those phone calls were often misery to me, always feeling like the length of time on the phone was time I’d never get back. We shared the love of books, movies and theatre, but never really clicked. We were sisters; that’s a forever bond, but I wouldn’t say we were friends. All of this made it so much harder to lose her. There was no longer any time to grow into something more.

It became clear, after her death, how little I and her other siblings knew her. Where she never quite clicked with us, she had definitely clicked with many others. Those who paid vigil at the hospital, those who couldn’t, but could text those who could, those who came to her service or wrote on Facebook all had a similar theme, Rachel meant the world to them. She had helped them during this occasion, paid for that incident, sent them all cards to cheer them when ill, encouraged them when down, celebrated with them on special occasions. She had made them all feel like they were her one, special friend. They loved her; they would horribly miss her.

What we discovered about our sister was her generosity of spirit. She lived out her faith every day through little acts of kindness. People who had only known her hours had the same experience as those who had known her forever – she gave of herself; she made them feel loved. Rachel was a nurse. To nurse is to care for, harbor, cherish, nurture, tend. Her occupation was also her vocation. She lived it fully.

Don’t get me wrong, my sister wasn’t a saint. Within family things were never easy. We had a lot of drama that added to the differences in age and created the distances. Her closest friends affirmed that she could be difficult, but they also had the privilege to see her magnetism as well. They benefited from it and from seeing Rachel share with others. I suppose we missed a lot of that because we didn’t look. She’d sign her cards to us, “all my love.” We used to laugh about the hyperbole of that. We’d joke about how could she give it all to each of us? The fact is, she did. She gave it all to everyone. We just didn’t see it.

As the stories unrolled and we learned who our sister really was, we were overwhelmed. The loss grew larger than all proportion, because we did not know our own sister as we should. We were not estranged. She was in plain sight. Still we missed knowing the essential character. What I wouldn’t give for even five minutes of phone call, let alone the lengthy ones that drove me crazy. Because the most amazing thing is how she presented her siblings to her friends. She was proud of us, excited about our lives. She talked about us, so strangers felt like they knew us. In fact, some of them may have known us better, without having met us, than we knew our own sister.

We live in a world where family has grown apart. My story isn’t that different from many others. We hardly know our own siblings because we hardly have the time for them. They live all over the country. They are a little odd. They don’t share our interests. We love them, see them now and again, and have good times. But we don’t go out of the way to call, or invite them over just to spend time. And then they are gone and the hole they left is disproportionate to the relationship – or exemplary of it.

It’s not just about regret or guilt. There is definitely some of that. But it’s bigger than that. Loss and grief change everything. Life goes on, but it is never the same. Our family is smaller by one. We watched our sister leave this world, surrounded by her immediate family and many of her even larger, extended family. We felt the kick of death just as hard as when we lost our parents, maybe even harder since this was so unexpected. All the other relational things just complicated an already overwhelming experience.

What then shall I do as the result of meeting my sister posthumously? My other sister suggested we begin with seeking opportunities to be kind, to say “yes” rather than “no”. I want to listen more, not my strongest skill. I want to stay in the present when with people, so I can learn more about them, and better know how to serve them.

Thank you, Rachel, for your legacy of nursing. May I honor your life by living mine more like you- caring for, cherishing, nurturing others God brings in to my life.