An Irish Poem

My face in thine eyes

 thine in mine appears.

And true plain hearts do in their faces rest.

Whatever dies was not mixed equally

If our two Loves be one…

Were thou and I so alike…

then none could second,

       none could die.            

Pancakes, Prayer and a Princess…

If you know me you know that I usually don’t ever have trouble sleeping…I’m not necessarily what you’d term a deep-sleeper, as I in fact wake up a good few times through the night, but, heading back toward dreams has never been a problem I’ve suffered.

And such was the case, and the exception late last night around 3:00AM. I literally opened my eyes after only one or two clarifying blinks smashed against the pillow, then, as if led by the strangeness of it all, sat straight up in bed. Very odd. I started to look around the room wondering if I my computer’s volume had malfunctioned turning the  violined night into screaming strings. I then looked over at my roommate wondering if he had simply woken, and, in turn, caused me to. He was however rhythmically busy with sleep. I then looked down at my cell phone sitting at the foot of my bed charging away its night…it too looked fast asleep. But for some reason I thought, grab it and have a look anyway. 

Multi-media message awaiting…

I thought to myself, “great, now my phone is busted…I don’t get media messages…I can’t even send texts (yeah, I’ve been rockin’ the super-cheap phone for 3 years now…and love it).” Sure enough, after one little click to bring up the multi-media in-box, which I had never seen ’til that moment, there it was…God’s little rise and shine. I saw a picture of my mentor/pastor’s wife Shauna and a caption that I knew came from Brian’s fingers…”off to the hospital!”

I escaped my bedroom with as much stealth as possible, wanting to leave my roommate sleeping fast…hurried across the apartment to the furthest corner to talk without waking anyone and called the man and woman of the hour.

What a gift from God it was to be able to share in an event that I relish from afar, having not yet met someone to live such beauty with. My thoughts sprinted through all the emotions that one must go through in the midst of such baby-times. The shoulder-tap Brian was probably given, rousing him from sleep and off to the hospital…listening to his wife breathe just slightly different than normal on the car-ride over…the wonderful war waged between butterflies and knots in his stomach as he enjoyed every moment of anticipation (they did not know whether it was a boy or a girl before-hand).

(sigh)…I felt elated and exhausted in the very best of ways after Brian hung up the phone around 3:30AM. Amidst the whirlwind of thought I did know one thing with certainty…I could not sleep. And so, I did the only thing I could think of…I made pancakes in honor of what I now know is the Princess that entered the world this morning. She does not know it yet, but she will be growing up in Scotland. Brian’s family is moving to Glasgow to serve at the church I just spent last semester at. They are following God’s lead to eventually plant a church in the Glasgow area.

I thank God that I was awakened from sleep early this morning…how thought of am I… that given any other circumstance other than His hand, I would have kept my eyes shut right on through. I…in a way…was allowed to experience the birth of a child! Having been born again in Christ, given new life, I sat early and in the dark, listening to the joy that is a child coming into this world.

You are blessed little one…your Dad is a strong man with a heart I would consider lucky to follow into ministry, anywhere in the world. Your Mother is like clockwork… resplendent most when she is simply in the throws of being Mom, loving, tending, leading and inspiring her husband to in turn lead well. They, side-by-side, make a concert of leadership and Love that you, one day, will see for all it’s worth.

You have another daughter in the Luse family to Love on Lord. May she be Yours from the moment she drew her first.   

In our current lack of Eden rejoice that the house of God just became a bit more crowded.

Thank you Lord.

And President’s will wait in line to shake her hand…

If I’ve never told you about my Mom’s Mom, my Grandmother Tata…then you’ve probably never met me…for her name is forever escaping my lips as stories of my past and the well of my dearest memories are drawn from.

She has done so much that would give chapters the kind of allure and beauty that would both inspire and haunt us to aspire to Love on others with everything we have, and, as was often the case with her, everything she did not have going in her favor…

Tata’s life is among many things, a romance novel…a tale of Love…the kind of romance novel that many of us will only ever read about, if even that.

If her life read like the back of a book, some of what you’d read might be as follows…This is the story of two lovers separated by two continents; driven from their homes by two different wars; forced across two oceans, ordered into one fated spot on the East coast of America, and squeezed into one tiny classroom where they would both learn English, and forevermore, that they were always meant to find much more than a new life in this the land of opportunity. They were meant to find their forever.  

This is the kind of story that Hollywood tries to capture everytime a ‘Pride and Prejudice’, a ‘P.S. I love You,’ a Painted Veil, or a movie like the Notebook fills the screen.

After the American chapters of her fairytale began, Tata then defied every legislative measure ever taken to harness immigrants due to their inability to produce a quality lifestyle here in the States; one in which they give back to this country in gratitude for allowing them to call this side of the ocean home.

She among a myriad of things, established the first organization in California (Clinic Ole) to allow immigrants to legally follow through on all the processes in order to attain permanent, uncontestable status as American citizens. During that time she took payments of chickens, soups, and sometimes money, for her otherwise expensive services…she often remarked to me,

“I was never going to be rich, and I never wanted to be…but, I did eat like a queen.”

She has fought for years on the National School-board Council to ensure that the education that she was not given in many ways, but was still able to extract from this capable country could in fact be reached by all of its children…

“The justice to have such options (education) is as important to me as making the decisions in our lives to take advantage of such a gift.”

I could go on and on about my beloved Tata and Papa, as he certainly has a story of immigrant-inspiration all his own…even how he to this day cuts my Tata ‘Red Delicious Apples’ in the shape of a spiralling heart. It appears that turn-of-the-century-Germans can have a bit of a soft spot.

But this blog is not a futile attempt to cram together all the material that is better suited for a biography/novel one day soon about my beloved grandparents…this blog is instead about something I jokingly, and somewhat seriously mentioned and believed would happen about 15 years ago…coming true 3 days ago.

I remember sitting with my Mom in Tata’s computer room, sort of listening in on my Tata talk away undoubtedly some legislation she was trying to see through. I remember listening to my Mom talk quietly to me beneath Tata’s elevated voice filled with salutations, laughing and active listening…”Your Grandmother is so great…I hope I am just as wonderful at her age.”

I remember thinking to myself, “people should meet her…important people…world leaders.” I did not of course understand the scope of my Tata’s influence, but as far as I was convinced, it was currently orbiting the moon with Nasa’s approval, helping run the country in the President’s office, and slowly being planned to be remembered by being etched into the side of Rushmore. I thought to myself…”The President should meet her…in fact, he should wait in line to meet her.”

Well, fast forward a good decade and a half, and wouldn’t you know that’s exactly what happened. My Tata hopped out of her car in front of the Napa Valley Opera House to meet none other than Bill Clinton last Tuesday afternoon. She showed up a half hour early “to get a good seat,” she said. Oh Tata and her naivety sometimes…it’s innocent and honest and is something we can all learn from. She walked up and down the line and after putting together than the line was nearly 3 blocks long at least, she decided to walk to the front and ask someone right near the entrance if they would mind if she could stand with them in their place…the woman coldly, although understandably told her, “yeah, actually I do mind. I’ve been waiting here for over three hours.” 

It took all of a split second for the beautiful opera-house doors aligning the entrance to swing opn in her favor; a long-time friend of hers waved her in and said, “you do not have to wait.”

Now here’s the kicker…after finishing his speech, Mr. Clinton made his way down the aisle shaking a few hands along the way, upon which he needed to wait just a moment to get to my Tata, as she was saying her hellos to everyone in the neighboring seats and around the former Mr. President.

And so, not to my surrpise, a president waited in line to shake my Tata’s hand…when all my Tata did was stand from where she was seated. She communicated how honored she felt to shake his hand, but many who know Tata would would instantly agree, twas Mr. Clinton who was the lucky one that evening.   

  

John 14:12

It really is humbling in a scary and amazing kind of way just how fragile life really is…how quickly it can all seem fine one minute, and then, especially when it’s without warning, a second later come screaming down, disrupting everything we had resigned the evening to be, comfortable, cozy, and safe.The fragility, disruption and screams that found me this evening came from my Grandma Edie (ee-dee).

She’s 76 and frail as can be now, but Granmda still shows the spit-fire passion that has allowed her to make a life for herself. This woman has had to overcome a lot…from taking my Dad away from a lesser man whom she called husband, because she vowed her son would never be hit, to coming out the other side of a nursing program, fully accredited having less than a high school education to start with. My Grandma was and is still ahead of her time

New Year´s tears…

As I sat tonight, writing to a friend across the ocean in the cozy countryside of Northern England, I began to think what God must feel as this heraled night passes over the world?

I realized that tonight is probably the night God hears more people on the planet fill His sky with soon-to-be empty and broken promises. I have quite a many New Year´s tears.

I just sit here, immersed beneath God’s navy velvet tonight…wondering…why do You put up with us Lord?

What God must think…looking down from fire and mercy enthroned all ’round, to see His powerful canvas of stardrops and moonlight crowded with all that we heave carelessly toward it…like dirty clothing flung shamelessly and thoughtlessly on the foundation which we take for granted as it provides our sure-footing.

It’s funny to me how many people, even within faith circles, can so easily buy into the idea that New Years wipes the slate clean, provides a chance to start fresh, gives, dare I say, a chance be born again, to be redeemed from our past. And yet…how quickly do those same people turn a defensive and unbelieving heart toward that same idea being found in Jesus Christ.

Apparently a Macy’s Day parade and Dick Clark’s age-defying, 78 year old appearance are more inspiring and ensuring of a successful New Year than the Biblical promises voicing True forgiveness, forever.

Perhaps that is some of the allure…New Year’s culture purports a new life bound up in a new year…nothing long term…just non-commital, un-proven and un-tested faith that this year will be different than last…that maybe, just maybe, we will learn from our past and break the cycle of my former wrongs. 

Sounds great…accept what everyone seems to be putting there faith and hope in again is nothing more than what CULTure dictates what the “in” thing to do is. You know what, I believe most everyone’s resolutions will find some amount of success, but whether you believe in Satan or not, he believes in you, and he is the most cunningly evil student of our weaknesses…committed to our downfalls night and day.