After Jess and I had been dating for a year we began to dream a semi-perfect future. We knew it wasn’t going to be perfect, because we’d been in the church long enough to know that’s false thinking. But still you dream and you put into place plans. One of my mentors in College told me to “Hold plans loosely,” which was wise advice especially in light of what happened to us next. We held bouquets and boutonnieres made up of succulents and maroon accents — and quickly traded them for memorial flowers which my we planted in the front yard. Dust to dust, ashes to ashes. 

You really never know exactly what’s going to happen next. Only the promises you make. The lighthearted experiences punctuated by the harder moments. 

Two Different Experiences, Same Place.

A couple of weeks ago, Jesse and I had the opportunity to go to our first ever Oregon Duck’s football game. Screaming fans, tailgating for miles, and free light-up sticks given to every fan. I oscillated between jumping up and down in excitement and stuffing my face with curly fries because I was like a freaking kid overwhelmed at the county fair

Pure Adrenaline.

This last summer, when the weather was warm enough to ripen peaches and we lounged like royalty on blow-up rafts in our community pools, my Dad came to visit and we went for a bike ride to explore the town of Eugene. Biking was very important to my family growing up. It was a rite of passage when you upgraded from the seat attached to the back of my parent’s bike to your own bike with training wheels.

My Dad and I started on our Tour De Eugene mid-morning and cruised all the way to Autzen Stadium crossing the bridge over Willamette River. Autzen stands impressive, unmoving, and slightly garish to non-native who hasn’t fully drank the Duck’s Kool-Aid. We were shocked to discover that this colossal college mecca was practically empty. Only a few janitorial staff members were floating around. We biked around the perimeter and found ourselves staring out at the empty seats of the stadium. Quiet. Still. Blue skies.

Peace.

When I FaceTimed with my Dad the other day we both marveled at the stark contrast between the empty stillness of the stadium in the summer in comparison the full celebratory euphoria of “Game Day” in mid-November.

Where Do you Find Yourself Today?

Where are you at? Is your soul hibernating in the quiet, or hustling to keep up with the busy colors streaming across your day-to-day life?

Are you cheering from the stands, excited about the prospects before you, and #lit with the promises of God? Reaping in the beautiful moments you don’t want to ever forget. “Please, let time slow down,” you pray. “Please, let me not take this for granted.”

Are you collecting the scraps between the bleachers of the dreams torn up and used by others? Are listening to the echoes of goodness and holding closely the memories of times when you felt the agony of defeat and the rush of a touchdown. Now, it’s just a pile of ashes. Silent. Waiting. Still.

To all who mourn in Israel, he will give a crown of beauty for ashes, a joyous blessing instead of mourning, festive praise instead of despair. In their righteousness, they will be like great oaks that the LORD has planted for his own glory. Isaiah 61:3

A friend gave me this verse last winter – and it was the first time that I could accept this truth – beauty for ashes since my Mom died. Because I realized that this verse is not a condemnation to “hurry up and get over it,” but rather a gentle promise that God is still good, and he will redeem us and the terrible things that happen. How? No idea. When? Up to him, not me.

It’s an invitation to acknowledge that Christ followers live in the balance between mourning and blessing, beauty and ashes, praise and despair. No amount of striving, placating, or judging can reconcile the two.

We Realize How Vulnerable We Are

When our dreams turn to dust, we realize how very human and vulnerable we are. Adam was created with the breath of God. We begin to realize that God can create all of humanity from the dust of the earth. So when our dreams disintegrate in front of us, we can either shake our hands at the sky, or wait for the renewal, the rebirth, and the seed that’s going to be planted. For some people this happens miraculously overnight. For many, it takes a lot of longsuffering, patience, and may not happen on this side of Heaven.

We begin to realize just how vulnerable our lives and dreams are. That we are dust and ashes. We are both the final chapter and filled with the breath of life. Pure adrenaline and quiet peace. 

Genesis 18:27 Then Abraham spoke up again:
“Now that I have been so bold as to speak to the Lord,
though I am nothing but dust and ashes”

A Fitting End to a Great Day

As Jesse and I sat by each other, bundled up with winter coats, noses red and voices slightly hoarse from cheering, a creamy, peachy, sunset exploded across the stadium. And I think I understand the significance of the rainbow to Noah. Nature displaying the full glory and promise of a God who cares about individuals and their families. I think God can still speak to us through scenes of nature. No flood waters required. 

Because I can’t believe that we made it to Eugene, and Jess finally gets to complete grad school. Right before my Mom got sick, Jess and I were in serious talks with each other trying to figure out if he should start grad school right after we got married or put it off for another year. As the diagnosis crashed down and changed the course of our lives for that season, it made our grad school dilemma seem small and insignificant and was tucked away.

So bringing it up, reviving Jesse’s dream from the ashes we had to dance in during that season, after three years of waving at it safely from a distance, it became real again. Life, moved forward again. Or at least, my personal perspective could embrace it’s onward motion, and delicately accept good things. We could both dream again, together.

As the sunset over the stadium starts to fade, and the stadium lights become more apparent, Jess looks over at me and says,

“I’m really glad you’re here with me.”

And I’m not sure if he means at this football game, or Eugene, or the whole promising “Until Death Do Us Part,” but I look back at him and reply,

“Me too, Jess, me too.”

“He gives power to the weak
and strength to the powerless.
Even youths will become weak and tired,
and young men will fall in exhaustion.
But those who trust in the LORD will find new strength.
They will soar high on wings like eagles.
They will run and not grow weary.
They will walk and not faint.”
Isaiah 40: 29-31

 

p.s. If you would like a free Holiday Devotional in your inbox, you can still sign up and subscribe to my website to receive it 🙂 The devotional is called “A Season of Hidden Stars,” and has been described as: “Light but not too heavy. Sweet but not too trite.”