family fun | Elaine Olsen

Raising Faith (part nine): Embracing Your Release

August 17, 2008

It’s been a year now since we moved our son into his second floor dorm room at Campbell University. Even tonight, those memories come to me with clarity as if lived only moments ago.

Everyone told me it would get better—this pain that kicked me in the gut with the force and fury of a winded hurricane. I didn’t believe them then, but time has walked its cadence. And now a year down the road, my wounds of separation have healed, as God has tenderly walked me through this mothering milestone with the prayed for measure of grace that speaks the witness of a Father’s faithfulness.

Tonight we stand at the edge of another letting go. We are preparing to send him back. I won’t be making the trip this time. There is less need now, but there was a deep need back then. Then was painful. Now is joyful. Not because I am glad to see him go, but simply because I am free to let him do so. Free to let him become and to grow into the man who God has called him to be.

Nick and I have done a lot of maturing over the past year. I’ve come to understand that my “release” is necessary if he is to fly. I know it sounds simple. In theory, it is. But doing it—embracing the letting go? Far from simple. For me, it’s been the most complex learning to date. Honestly, I’m glad to be on the other side of this one, but while my heart rests this night in peace for the process, I know that there are those of you who are profoundly feeling the effects of being on “this side” of the letting go.

I’m drawn to you. My tears have wept for you. I cannot keep from being filled to a heart’s brim with a deep measure of understanding love and compassion for the steps that you are making. What can one mother possibly render as useful in this time of painful transition? What could be said that hasn’t already been spoken over your bleeding wounds? Probably very little.

But this I will tell you, for I know it to be true. I’ve lived and breathed its witness in this past year and in the previous nineteen that lie behind.

Our God is faithful and good. We will never rightly “let go” of anyone without his knowing and without his holy nod of approval. What pains us, pains him. Those we hold as dear and precious in our hearts are held as more precious in his. He allowed them our homes and our influence for a season, and now he asks us to release them back into the hands that held them first. To the God who shaped them and formed them and adorned them with the lavish expression of heaven (Psalm 139).

He asks of us a hard thing. But hard is not always bad, and in this case, hard is very good and especially right and our necessary portion if our children are ever to find their firm rooting in Jesus.

I didn’t like it then, but it swallows easier tonight, for I have gained the wisdom of a year long learning. I have hindsight, and before long, you will have it too. It cannot be rushed through, even though your heart cries out for the finished process. It simply must walk. Step by step until you find yourself on the other side of “letting go.”

As a word of witness this night, I want to share with you my penned ache from a year ago. Perhaps it voices the tears of your eyes even now. (an email sent to friends on August 18, 2007…)

There are some things…some places in all of our lives that simply are too tender for words. Moments when we come to the utter edges of ourselves and wonder where we will find the strength for the next moment. Where we are caught in the fragment between breaths and find it difficult to breathe our next.

I had one of those moments today. To date, it is the most difficult pain I have ever known. For those of you who have been through it, you’re nodding your head just now. For those of you who await its arrival in the somewhere not so distant future, you’ll not fully appreciate it until it arrives.

I hugged him tightly, cried my eyes out, and groaned with utterings that words cannot express most of the hour ride home from Campbell University this afternoon. I listened, in turn, as the 16 year old in the back seat uttered his own share of groanings. Bless Billy…all he was allowed to do was to manage the van back to our driveway. And just when I thought I had conquered my angst, I arrived home to find a beautiful bouquet of flowers on the kitchen counter. It arrived somewhere around noon today, while my in-laws were watching the little ones.

Completely of his own accord, my college freshman son (who I’ve often thought not quite ready for the world…for you see he has so much more to learn…so many more ways to mature) did a very “adult” thing. A very lovely and gracious thing. He thought of his mom, and he told her that he loved her…that she was his heart.

All I could do was hug my flowers and have my husband take a picture of me pitifully cradling my gift. A memory for the years to come. To remind me that, perhaps, Nicholas is ready for the world, and that with God’s help, we will both manage the transition with a measure of grace and joy.
Thank you for the times when you’ve prayed for us. I felt every one of those petitions honored today. Tonight I will gaze upon my bouquet as I let their beauty and my tears lull me to sleep to awaken me to another day. A Sabbath day.

A day that will rise on all of us and beckon our participation. I pray that all of us will find rest with our great and awesome God as the dawn announces its arrival.

I love you all. Thank you for loving us.

Peace…sweet peace for the journey and for the next.

Sabbath did come, my friends, and I found my peace in this journey through God’s amazing love and tender care over my soul. It will come for you, too, for Sabbath rest is always our portion when we allow our Father the freedom to walk our hurt and to heal our hearts.

This won’t be my final chorus of surrender as it pertains to my children. It has been the first and because of it, I will have some courage and understanding for the next. Perhaps, you need a little courage and understanding tonight. Your heart and your pain are safe with me. Greater still…

Your heart is perfectly loved and safe with our Father. More than anyone, He understands the painful tug of “letting go.” He walked it with his Son so that we could walk to him with our surrenders and lay them safely in his hands.

May God grant you the grace, wisdom, and beauty of a sacred release tonight. And may He always…always…give you his,

PS: Nick’s just taken off…I am fine. There is, however, another young lady who isn’t faring so well.

Raising Faith (part seven): Embracing Your DNA

August 5, 2008

For Miss Amelia who crashed onto my scene six years ago this day, teaching me of tender and pink and lovely! Together, we are finding our pretty in Jesus Christ. You are my heart, precious daughter. Happy Birthday.

August 5, 2002

“How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are! The reason the world does not know us is that it did not know him. Dear friends, now we are children of God, and what we will be has not yet been made known. But we know that when he appears, we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is.”
(1 John 3:1-2).

Some say I look like her.

(grandma maybelle, elaine)

Some say she looks like me.

(elaine, daughter amelia)

Either way, I don’t mind. I like family imprints and being able to trace genetic resemblances from one generation to the next.

It shouts the message of connection…

of belonging.
of fitting.
of having roots…past, present, and future.

There’s something sacred about family resemblances—a deep, abiding truth that lies within the woven fabric of a shared identity. There are no random or accidental look alikes. My favoring of grandma and my daughter’s favoring of me is by divine design. God had a say in the matter, and I like knowing that the same hands who formed Maybelle are the same hands who fashioned me and my Amelia. Decades and centuries have not blurred his focus. Rather, he has kept the blueprints on file and tweaked them according to his desire.

All of us share some similarities with members of our family tree. If not physically, then perhaps along the lines of personality and preferences. We can’t help but wear some of the influence of our upbringing. For good or for ill, it is the stock trade we’ve been portioned and is worthy of our attention this day.

For all of the ways we clothe our flesh with the family DNA, none is more important than the way that we wear our heritage of faith.

If you were raised in a family void of God and grace, then some of your cloaking may wear lean and empty and seemingly full of pointless. If, however, you were surrounded by the truth of Jesus and his love during your formative years, then your cloaking may wear warmer and richer and full of purpose. Either way, it matters what you wear because our faith is the rooting for the next generation of young minds and hearts.

I don’t want to simply resemble my grandmother in looks. I want to resemble her in the way that she lived her faith.

In the same way, I don’t want my daughter to simply favor me in the mirror. I want her to favor me in her heart. I want her to love Jesus more than she loves her momma or her daddy or her big, beautiful brothers. I want her to wake up each day knowing that her mother’s faith lives on in her. That she can walk and talk and journey through this life with her Creator by her side. That she can be a woman of kingdom influence because her family tree is rooted in the depths of a sacred soil.

It is a soil that began with a long-ago garden’s planting and that will one day end in a soon-to-be garden’s harvest. Jesus, himself, will come to gather his own. We are his own—co-heirs of the promise and children of the Most High God. We are a lavishly loved people because that is the way of a Father’ heart. To love and to shape and to change us into his incredible likeness day by day.

Not because our God needs a following. Not because his ego dictates an audience, but rather, because, our Father longs to give us his forever.

And forever, my friends, includes our full becoming—an “as he is” likeness because the power of Calvary’s bloodline lives and breathes in our spiritual DNA through faith in Jesus Christ. We are the seeded hope of our Father’s sacred intention. He means for us to look like him. To act like him. To love like him, and to grace like him.

We were created in God’s image, intended for his resemblance. No greater words of commendation could ever be spoken over our earthly lives.

To mirror Jesus is to herald the message of connection…

of belonging.
of fitting.
of having roots…past, present, and future.

And if faith is to be raised in this generation, then we must embrace the truth of our spiritual DNA. We must be willing, in turn, to pass it on to the next generation of believers.

Genetic DNA lasts but a lifetime. Spiritual DNA, however, lasts for all eternity. The family tree that we share with Jesus is the one that will trace us to our forever. It is rooted in Love. It will end in Love, and it will continue to bloom because of Love.

Indeed, how great is the love of our Father that we should be called sons and daughters of his! And that is what we are!

And that, my friends, is more than enough for me this day, and so I pray,

Thank you, Father, for calling me yours. For giving me your image and for breathing your Spirit into this feeble flesh. Transform my heart, my soul, my mind, and my will into your likeness. Let my life mirror your reflection in everything that I say and do; let me believe beyond my faith and grow my faith to mirror my belief. Teach me how to teach my children the value of their spiritual heritage. Not just in words, Father, but in living the message of connection that weaves from Thee to me and to my beyond. Above all, thank you for loving me as I am and for growing a family tree that includes a branch named Faith. I am forever humbled by your extravagant grace. Amen.

Pastor Guillermo

July 30, 2008

Until now, regular readers of peace for the journey have known me as Elaine’s husband and her number one fan. Now for the first time I am a guest contributor to her blog, which coincides with another important first in my life—my first mission trip outside the USA.

A team of 16 young adults and chaperones left our church on July 16, 2008, for the South American nation of Bolivia and a new orphanage established by the Methodist Church of Bolivia. The Andes Mountain range is second only to the Himalayas as the highest in the world and is home to the Aymaran Indians, the native people of Bolivia. For ten days we called this harsh, desperately poor but splendid place our home.

Tacachia rests at the end of a forty mile stretch of winding mountain road. My sense of “belonging” in that little village was challenged from the very beginning. As one of Tacachia’s newest residents my name was a problem: “Billy.”

Billy is the name that I have answered to for almost forty-one years of living, but to a rural population that spoke only Spanish and Aymaran, none of them had ever met a “Billy” and had great difficulty pronouncing my name. I had a choice to make: to insist that everyone in my new home struggle with a name that defied their tongues’ best efforts, or I could change my name. The choice was easy. My high school Spanish teacher had us use the Spanish equivalent of our English names in class. Thanks to those lessons from long ago I quickly exchanged “Billy” for “Guillermo,” which is Spanish for “William.”

Instead of loosing any precious sense of my identity, compromising my standards, or watering down the Gospel message, the Lord led me to a deeper understanding of what it means to “deny myself.” When Jesus said to His disciples, in Matthew 16:24 “If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me,” Jesus meant that we have to be willing to replace our standards with His standards. As long as we stay close to the place we call home and the local church we call our own, self denial may not seem like a big deal. But what does the Lord require of His people when He leads us among strangers?

I believe that Acts 1:4-8 is concrete proof that Jesus does not use a “sliding scale” in measuring mission work. The idea of local missions, verses overseas missions, and one being better than another is an invention of man and not of God. Wherever you are, if you are a baptized believer in Jesus Christ, you are in the mission field. As missionaries, there is an ever present temptation to value our station in life, our title, our accomplishments, our circumstances, to the point that the world around us feels like they have no hope of relating to us.

To the people of Tacachia, “Pastor Billy” was a name their tongues could not grasp. They could not greet me. They could not introduce me to their neighbors. They could not hope to have any kind of intimate relationship with me, because “Pastor Billy” was the name of a stranger who wanted to remain a stranger. But “Pastor Guillermo” was a welcome guest who wanted to know them and wanted to be known by them.

What about my other names? I am a United Methodist pastor. I am an Elder in the Church. I have an undergraduate degree from Pfeiffer College and a Masters of Divinity from Asbury Theological Seminary. I am proud of all these names—up to the point that these parts of my “identity” might become an obstacle in proclaiming the Good News of Jesus Christ.

Ten days with Pastor Guillermo taught me that my own selfishness has been the biggest obstacle in keeping me from sharing the love of Jesus.

Ten days with Pastor Guillermo taught me that Christians have to be willing to deny the things we often prize the most, for the sake of the least and the lost.

Ten days with Pastor Guillermo taught me that Christians have to love Jesus more than we love denomination, or education, or anything else that might build a wall between us and those He sends us too.

Ten days with Pastor Guillermo taught me that the most important thing I have to offer the Lord on the mission field is my obedience.

As it was with Pastor Guillermo, so I want it to be with Pastor Billy. I want to love others more than myself and to prize relationships over ego…Christ above self.

The lesson of my mission field has not been an identity crisis, but rather has been the fertile soil to finding my true identity in Christ. Not everyone will need a trip to South America to learn how to part with their selfishness, but as Elaine will attest, I’ve never been very good at doing things the easy way. God used Pastor Guillermo to humble Pastor Billy.

I’m so glad for the occasion to have met him in the little village of Tacachia.

peace for the journey~
Billy

If you want to learn more about the medical mission society that helped us organize our trip to Bolivia, please click on this link to Curamericas. Details about the Kory Wawanaca Children’s Home of Tacachia, Bolivia can be viewed at their website.

Cristo Amado (Beloved Christ)

July 29, 2008

Greetings to all of you faithful bloggers who clicked on Peace for the Journey to read Elaine’s writing. Alas, you’re stuck with her son instead. I’m Nick, the eldest (!!!), and I was part of a recent 16-man team from our church who went to Tacachia, Bolivia for a mission trip. Mom asked me to write a little something for the blog, and though I lack her writing prowess, here goes!

I’d never been on a mission trip before, much less one out of the country, so I understandably had some worries and anxieties prior to leaving. How would I do speaking Spanish? How would I do with limited electricity and cramped sleeping quarters? Would I be able to do the very difficult work on the farm? Most importantly, though, how could God bless others through people who were completely and utterly different from them in almost every aspect of life?

It became clear to me as the trip progressed that this trip was something that God had planned for me before He’d even breathed life into me.

Tacachia offered many formidable challenges for us 16 Americans. The language barrier, the elevation (Tacachia is approximately 12,000 ft. above sea level), the sleeping situation, the food, and the labor all daunted members of our group at one time or another. However, God blessed me in innumerable and unspeakable ways. He didn’t break down those barriers for me; instead, He ensured that I wouldn’t have to deal with any of those in the first place.

*The altitude didn’t really bother me (rare for people in our group).
*I didn’t contract even a minor disease or so much as an upset stomach (even rarer).
*And I knew enough Spanish to hold basic conversations with the people of Tacachia (rarer still).

With God’s help, I set out to share His love with others, and I believe I did that everyday I was in Bolivia. Playing soccer and volleyball with the kids from the village, doing a Daniel in the Lion’s Den skit, and helping dig a canal and make adobe bricks were all ways in which I was able to share God’s love with those Bolivians. Looking back on the trip, though, it is obvious that the people of Bolivia were more of a blessing to me than vice versa.

Everyone was so kind and loving that I must confess I was envious of them at times. Family means everything to Bolivians…how often do we hear that in the United States? I grew closer to people there than I did with some members of my graduating class. For the first time in my life, I really felt like family with people who weren’t genetically related to me. The love was so evident and so thorough and so joyous that it permeated everything that they did with us.

The most vivid and eternal memory I will take from Tacachia occurred during the church service we attended the last night we were in the village. During the previous Sunday’s service, we had sung a Spanish hymn that was a congregational favorite and I thought to myself “That song was pretty good.” During the closing Wednesday service, I found myself hoping “Please let us sing that cool song again.” I didn’t even know the title…

Lo and behold, as the service drew to a close, the musicians began to play that song, which I later found out to be titled “Cristo Amado” (Beloved Christ). As soon as I recognized the song and heard all the locals singing it, a joy that I have rarely experienced crashed over me like ocean waves. Though I did not know the words and thus could not sing along, I have never felt the presence of the Holy Spirit as tangibly as I did during those five minutes. Everyone was singing and clapping and pouring their hearts out to their Beloved Christ.

Following the service, I really wanted to learn the song, as I thoroughly enjoyed it. I told Pastor Antonio in Spanish that I had really enjoyed the song, not knowing how to ask to copy the words down. He responded with a huge grin, and holding a hymnal and paper, he asked me in Spanish if I wanted to copy it down. In that moment, elation filled my heart and I have not been able to stop thanking God and the people of Tacachia for the love and blessings they’ve so wonderfully showered on me in the five days since I learned that song.

As 1 John says, “How great is the love that the Father has lavished upon us, that we might be called children of God!”

Cristo Amado (Beloved Christ)

O Cristo, Cristo amado! (O beloved Christ!)
Alumbra pues mi camino (Light up my way)
Para llevar tu palabra (So I can take your word)
A pueblo desconocido (To the unknowing home)

Jehova es mi Padre (God is my Father)
Cristo es mi Salvador (Christ is my Savior)
El Espiritu Santo (The Holy Spirit)
Es mi Fortaleza (Is my stronghold)

Our Cristo Amado is so wonderful. Won’t you go share Him with others? After all, as Henry Burton’s hymn says:

“It only takes a spark to get a fire going,And soon all those around can warm up in its glowing;That’s how it is with God’s Love,Once you’ve experienced it,You spread the love to everyone You want to pass it on.”

elaine

A Zoo’s Pondering (part five): Made for Him

July 27, 2008

“Shout for joy to the LORD, all the earth. Worship the LORD with gladness; come before him with joyful songs. Know that the LORD is God. It is he who made us, and we are his; we are his people, the sheep of his pasture. Enter his gates with thanksgiving and his courts with praise; give thanks to him and praise his name. For the LORD is good and his love endures forever; his faithfulness continues through all generations.” (Psalm 100).

My heart is tender tonight—ready and waiting to receive the embrace of two fine men. They’ve crossed the Equator and back again and are approximately three hours away from the punctuation of a journey that began eleven days ago. My emotions have walked the extremes. But mostly, what I feel right now is love.

Not a love for things or stuff or trinkets that can be quantified, but rather a love for people whose measured worth is unquantifiable.

People. The sixth day wonder of God’s creative genius. The final brushstroke of God’s divine masterpiece. He saved the best for last.

We are that last. We are the exclamation point on a creation story that some have deemed implausible. Not possible. A stretch that requires more ignorance than sense. To some, we are nothing more than the evolution of this.

But I don’t see it. Instead I see this.

Apparently the furry guy didn’t get the memo and stayed as he is.

That, my friends, is a stretch that requires more ignorance than sense, for we are the implemented plan of the Divine. His name is God, and we were created in his image for his glory and renown alone (Jeremiah 13:11). We are the favor of our Father’s eyes, and he rejoices over us with singing (Zephaniah 3:17).

His weaving of us in our mother’s womb leaves little room for debate. Fearfully and wonderfully, he took the task of our becoming (Psalm 139). And from the very beginning, he fashioned us with the mark of eternity (Ecc. 3:11).

This is what sets us apart from every other created being. We bare the marks of forever. There’s something about us that looks like him, and through the power of the Cross, we participate in the divine nature that allows us to embody his Spirit within (2 Peter 1:3-4).

Gorillas and monkeys and chimpanzees are, quite frankly, adorable. I love to ponder them and their ways. But for all of their uniqueness, I can’t hold them. Can’t talk to them. Can’t share matters of the heart with them. Not really. I could try, but a one sided communication fall shorts of true, lasting connections. And I am after connection. One on one. Heart to heart.

So is our God. He created us with the connection in mind. And for the time span that has existed from Eden until now, he has been in hot pursuit of our noticing him. Of recognizing that we are not a separate entity, void of Eden’s pulse but, rather, that we are uniquely tied to the pulse of our Father.

We were made by Him. We were made for Him. And I, for one, cannot think of a better way to close our zoo ponderings than to simply take a few minutes to ponder Him.

There’s a wonderful video clip by Louie Giglio that sheds some light into this truth. Honestly, I’ve only now thought about it as I’ve been writing. Many of you have seen it before, but I think it worthy of our second glance. And for those of you who’ve yet to watch it?

Well…it is eight minutes of your day wisely spent. Do yourself a high and holy favor by taking the time to watch this through to the end. Indeed, God created you with his image in mind.

Thank you, each one, for spending a week at the zoo with me. I have loved walking these steps of creation’s glory through a different set of lenses. My prayer is that you, too, have been able to witness the truth of Jesus Christ through these modern day parables. They have the capacity to speak a word to the human condition if we only allow ourselves the eyes to see, the ears to hear, and the mind to conceive the sacred possibilities within.

It’s all around, friends. God’s truth in our present. As you enter into your Sabbath day of rest, may you be ever more aware of the Father’s whispers and of the Spirit’s wind as he blows through your frame with the sure glory of your everlasting. I love you each one. You have been life to me in these past eleven days.

As always,

~elaine

Category Archives: family fun