above the grey

It's Upstate NY. Adirondack beauty, the Finger Lakes, lush vineyards, great coffee, canal paths winding through quaint towns, beautiful produce, incredible restaurants, lovely, friendly, giving people and snow. We live here. Grow up here. Raise our children. Eat chicken french. And play euchre. When you live on a great lake you also learn to do other things... like storm shopping and shoveling your roof. It's great entertainment. But perhaps the most valuable thing we learn is how to LIVE ABOVE THE GREY. Not the broken, semi-white, puffy clouds...we're talking the one, solid grey mass that fills our sky on many days, and ok...sometimes multiple, consecutive days. Some choose to stay in bed. Some move south. But the rest of us learn to live above it. We get something bubbling on the stove, fill the house with aromatherapy, invite the friends, get the cards and put on some great music. We roll up our sleeves and get involved. We make a change. W

There are things you find in the course of a normal day that make you want to escape. This is one of them. It is significantly harder to reach into the cupboard for the butter dish, I get it. Dr. Phil says that I should try and rid myself of these high expectations. You’d think that I’d be used to the abnormally high levels of testosterone in my home. Like asbestos, it should not be disturbed without a haz. suit. But on most days I deal with the normal-living-with-4-boys issues with grace, humor, and an even temperament. Go ahead, I'll wait while you ask them. :) I judge every competition, from muscle size to skateboard jumps…serve constant food, bandage knees, hearts, build forts, hang shooting targets, fry bacon and make trips to the ER.  - Love boys.-   But like the discarded mountain of wet snow clothes in front of the wood stove, sometimes I just fall into a heap. I see the butter on the spoon rest. I’m just too tired to do anything about it. It’s in mo

The buzzer sounds.  Shocked by its piercing volume you stumble out; the frigid air smacking your face so hard it makes you wince. You shake it off, suck in a deep breath and brace yourself for what’s about to happen.   You push off. Images race past faster than you can focus. Faces, posts, moving ground, colors. It’s too much to take in. Your mind races with possibility and the screaming questions, “Am I ready?” “Was my training enough?” “What will my hair look like when I step onto the medal platform?” You move ahead, your muscles straining under the weight. Your form, flawless. Around the bend and into the straightaway you fly, being mindful that wipe outs are extremely common in this stretch. Your supreme conditioning and extraordinary skill are kicking in now and before you, just as shocking as the start, the goal! One final burst… to the finish. You know this is what you were born to do. And as you stand there waiting, you lift your head, draw a final breath,

All over town, people are just a little frantic. With 3 weeks left, trees are appearing atop cars, lines are long, shopping carts are full. Believe it or not we even have a red-lettered LED countdown in our front yard…sounds classy, doesn’t it? I love this time of year. Traditions, family time, parties, great food… Stress, overwhelmed schedules, financial strain… People & relationships concurrently at their best & worst. It’s just hard to fit words like “wonder” into a teeming family dinner… Difficult to remember concepts like “incarnate” when getting ready for the office Christmas party. But we, friends of God, must keep these in mind. God sent. God came. God said all He wanted to say through the birth of this baby. I want to listen especially hard during this season to hear what it was...to hear what it is. (Repeat the mantra with me now: Take-the-time.) The glorious Christmas season is here.

  Momentum. You can't create it but you can certainly watch for it to appear. The rumble under your feet, the slow building sound of a great wind, the raw expectation that makes your heart go wild and the floor of your stomach fall. God on the move. A hundred times a day in the ebb and flow of life, He plunges His hands into the waters of humanity and rippling reverb is felt. It's seen, smelled, heard, tasted. And so I watch for it. I have to admit that on most days I sit on top and ride it out. The sun is out and people are swimming. Good days to examine and stay close; to shout encouragement and to sing loudly. To drink deeply and be refreshed because the days of jumping to my feet are coming. The enormously-terrifying, Hawaiian-swelled, screaming-shouting, tsunami-type, churning-power-on-all-sides days. -breathe here- Awesomeness. Yes, there are still waves that knock me from my board, sputtering and gasping for breath, but I'm getting better. The scrapes