Life's A Beach

I begin to understand why people fall in love with the beach.  When I was a child, the beach was a place with icy cold (I grew up in New England), salty water, and where I got the worst sunburns of my life, due to my fair complexion and the fact that no one had ever heard of sunscreen back then. 
As an adult, I began to long for a glimpse of the ocean,  and when we went to visit my family, I would try to get to the shore at least once during the week or two that we were there. We would usually drive out for an evening walk or picnic, after all danger of sunburn was gone.  A few minutes gazing out to sea somehow brought me a sense of calmness and peace that was hard to catch in other places.  

Now, in my fiftieth year,  I have officially had something that I never thought I would enjoy- two vacations at the beach- last year we were privileged to go to St. Simons, GA, and this year, to Emerald Isle, NC.  Those two vacations are all the credentials I need to wax poetic about the sea, so here goes.
There is something about the sea that feeds the eternal nature of my soul.  Looking out into the expanse of the ocean fills my heart with a sense of the eternal like nothing else here on this earth.  I don't really know why, I just know that it's true.  Yet, often when I walk the beach I find myself looking down.  I am looking for pretty things to pick up, or at the birds on the shore.  Focusing on the ground beneath my feet, looking for pretty things to fill my hands doesn't bring me the same peace that looking up does.  The things on the shore do give me a sense of pleasure, but it is looking up at the expanse of the ocean and the far horizon that brings a change in my perspective and the sense of peace that I long for.  
I fear I go through this life much the same way.  I am so focused on what is at my feet that I forget to look up at the eternal.  I miss the perspective that looking at God can bring and instead, fill my eyes with the crashing of the waves around me and the baubles on the ground, alternately worried about what the waves will bring and hoping to find something to make me happy.   
My week away was a wonderful reminder that life is for looking up.  Once again I am praying for the wisdom to remember that in the days ahead.

Missing Addie

I have a beautiful granddaughter. She turned a year old on July 26 and lives far, far away. It is crazy to me that I can miss someone so much that I see so little. I see the hand of God in these amazing attachments of the heart, and of course in the wondrous development of every young child, but especially my grandchild. My heart strings are pulled each time I think of her. These are some of my favorite pictures of her from over the summer.

Wedding Bells and Other Things

We are having a big week here at the Lowe house. Our oldest daughter is getting married. We have family in from New England, and expect our son tomorrow. What a joy to have loved ones near.

Yesterday we took my Dad and sister to Blenko Glass and watched them blow glass for a while. Dad had never seen it done, and it had been years since we had been there, so it was new for Charis and Zoe, too. Zoe declared that she could watch all day long, but we didn't. After that my sister and I made a run to the Everything Fiesta store at Flatwoods, picking up a few goodies at the bulk foods store, too, before we headed home.

Today I got to take my Dad to the new state museum at the Culture Center. (Are any other West Virginians having trouble with that small change?) We allotted one and a half hours and it wasn't enough. Dad is a real history buff and wanted to read every note on every item. We only got through the first 4 rooms. I'll have to talk him into coming back for the rest, I guess.

Tomorrow we look forward to visiting with Jared. Sadly, his visit is much shorter than originally planned, and he has to leave his wife and our only grand daughter at home. We will miss them both, but we'll have to make the most of our brief time with Jared. He'll head back to New England with my Dad and sister on Sunday since he has to be back to work on Monday morning.

We'll have dinner with the wedding party here at the house in the evening. Thankfully, I don't have to cook! I do get a little nervous about these things, but that doesn't mean I don't have a good time.

After the guests leave, my whole family will be under one roof once more. I don't expect that to happen too many more times in this life, to actually have all 5 children in the same house for the night. We will enjoy it and try to document it for future reference.

On Saturday, our family will officially grow, as we welcome Chris as our son in law. We like Chris. He is a hard working, thoughtful young man. He has a sense of humor that makes him seems like one of us. We look forward to getting to know him better in the years to come.

Widowmaker

It's hard to describe what we have just been through. It was scary, it was miraculous, it was quick. When Mark told me just a few days ago that he had been having some pain in his chest sort of under his left arm, and some tingling in the arm itself, my heart was heavy. I didn't want him to have heart trouble. His parents both have heart disease. I have heart disease. I was scared for him, for us and for our children. I wanted to deny it. I wanted God to make it go away. I wanted it to be nothing.
The cardiologist's office called when they had a cancellation and Mark went for a stress test. He failed it. The ekg was so scary that they sent him to the hospital to see if the cardiologist wanted to do a heart catheterization that day. The cardiologist told his staff to fit Mark in the next day. He said "This is serious. Absolutely no stress. No physical stress, no stress of any kind until we get you in here." I prayed for a false positive, for a mistaken ekg.
We were essentially walk ins for the test the next day, and the doctor had several emergencies as well as several patients ahead of us as we waited 8 1/2 hours for the test. We arrived at the hospital at 1 pm and they wheeled him out for the procedure at 9:30 pm.
As we kissed goodbye I was still praying for the false positive or something, anything besides a heart problem. What I thought could be better I don't know. Maybe some outrageously simple problem that was easily cared for was what I wanted. 20 minutes later when they came and got us out of the waiting room, telling us the doctor wanted to see us, I knew it was bad news. I said "This is bad." The nurse said, something like "It's not bad." I thought she was nuts. I knew the doctor hadn't yet spoken to the family of the patient done before Mark. I knew he couldn't want to see us for any good thing.
The nurse stood in the door of the operating room and called to the doctor. They covered his hands and he came to talk to us. Mark was on the table in the background while he said "We have found a 95 to 99% blockage in the left anterior descending artery." The nurse showed us vivid pictures of a very narrow artery. "We call this a widowmaker. It is life threatening" said the doctor, "and I want to put a stint in as our first option before open heart surgery. He has seen the pictures" he continued, "and he knows what I want to do." I said "Go for it." He hollered at Mark. "Reverend Lowe?" Mark hollered back "yeah". "Your family is here. I'm telling them what we want to do." I think Mark said "okay". I said "Go for it" again, and the doctor told us that it would be 20 to 30 minutes until they were finished, along with the usual disclaimer about the wonderful risk of heart attack and death during the procedure.
I called my kids and our ministry partners, my mother in law cried and prayed. Not long after all the calls were made, one of the nurses appeared and told us the procedure was over. Mark had not had a heart attack on the table, the stint was "beautiful", she said, and we would see him in a few minutes. We rejoiced. I started calling everyone again.
After he was wheeled to the recovery room, there were more pictures of the heart and the difference the stint had made. We were gratefully rejoicing in the timing of the tests and the success of the procedure. All other arteries look fine. Only one was blocked, and it almost completely.
When Mark had stood on the podium the Sunday before and said,"I could walk out of this building and die today. (God please not today.)" He didn't know how true a statement it was, or that God might indeed be literally protecting him from death as he did tear down at church. He could easily have had a heart attack and died.
We came home today. Mark is tired but otherwise fine. I have been reminded that a husband is a wonderful thing. The widowmaker has been thwarted by the hand of God in the form of an excellent surgeon and wonderfully timed discovery and treatment.

Psalm 139

Lord, when you look at me, you search me, you see who I am.
It is all revealed, the good, the bad and the mediocre.
You see all the stuff I do... the routines of my day,
and you know my thoughts before I think them.
You know me inside and out.
The things I say are no surprise to you - you saw them coming.
You surround me, and you have touched my life.
I really don't understand that, don't even know what it really means, but I believe it.

I cannot escape the Comforter, so I can't run away from you.
I can't go high enough to escape your knowledge of me, or low enough, either.
Running east or west will not get me away from you.
Where ever I run, you will see me, and it is impossible to get beyond the reach of your protection and guidance.
Sometimes I think darkness will cover me
( and mercifully hide who I really am ),
but it is all the same to you.
You see as piercingly in the dark as you do in the light.

You made my very soul.
You handcrafted me in my mother's womb.
I must praise you for that.
I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
Your works are amazing, a fact that cannot be denied.

Who I am was no secret to you when you made me.
You made no mistakes as you crafted me.
You had a vision of who I would be, and your work was a success.
Before I began to live and breath you knew who I would be and planned my days.
You wrote the story of my life.

Lord, it is hard for me to understand the way you think.
You care for me in a way that is beyond true comprehension- I could never figure it out.
Sometimes I think your love for me is too good to be true- like a dream
but when I wake up, You are still there...

Because you are the one who really knows me,
search me, and help me to know my own heart.
Don't spare me.
Show me the remedy for my anxious thoughts.
(Why do I have them when you are who you are?)
Show me my sins so that I can be closer to you.
Show me how to live for eternity.

On 27 Years

Mark and I had a whirlwind courtship. We met in the early days of 1981 at Bible college. Mark came as a new student in the second semester and I - well, lets just say I had been there a while. We had a mutual friend, and that sort of threw us together a little bit. We would talk, and the thing I noticed about Mark was that he would actually talk to me. We would talk about the Bible and our lives, not just small talk that other guys seemed so intent on making. Mark was different. He walked around campus with a cup of coffee in his hand- the only one to do so in those days. He had sweet blue eyes and a corny sense of humor. (still does)
When we returned to school that fall, we started to date each other almost immediately. I asked him to be my date for Sadie Hawkins day in October, and that actually turned out to be the day he took me to meet his parents. We got engaged over Thanksgiving, and left school in January to be married.
I took him to meet my parents in Maine right after Christmas that year. There was 3 feet of snow on the ground when we got there and 4 when we left. Mark found it hard to get a good grip on things in his cowboy boots, and he wondered if they would always call him "Mahk". (They still do.) He passed inspection and we returned to West Virginia.
The wedding was small, and quickly planned. We just stood up after church on Sunday, January 17, 1982, with his family and a few of our friends present. Our reception was a potluck dinner. It was so cold that day that Mark's Dad and brother missed church trying to get Mark's car started so that we could go on our honeymoon. I remember a lot of snow on the ground- and an acquaintance of the family opened his parts store and sold us a battery for the car on our way out of town. We honeymooned at Pipestem State Park, which is, by the way, very quiet in the middle of January. Perfect for honeymooners.
How grateful I am for the way God works things out in our lives. In all of our marital ups and downs I have never doubted that Mark was God's man for me. He still makes me laugh with his corny jokes. He still knows more than me about almost everything. He still amazes me with his simple life goal- faithfulness- and the tenacity with which he holds on to it. His faithfulness to God and to me continue to bless my life. They are the bedrock of our marriage. I am so grateful for 27 years.

The Empty House

My house is not empty, but it feels that way. Hannah has moved to a new apartment and Lydia has returned to Massachusetts to school. It is strange to have them both gone. I miss the company, the conversation, their presence in general. This is not to say that I would keep them always with me, we understand the need to move on. It's just to say that the knowledge of their coming and going is a welcome background to the rhythms of my life. It gives me comfort when I have it, and I miss it in these months when it is less tangible. Lydia will come home from school in the spring and we will have it for another short while and be grateful for it. Hannah will probably never be so present again, but we will see her often and enjoy those times all the more for the variety they bring to our daily lives.

A New Year

The first day of a new year is fast closing. It was spent in an ordinary fashion, visiting with family, eating beans and cornbread, doing the dishes. Is it the precursor of a boring year? Maybe. Maybe not. It is safe to say that it will be a year of changes, because change is already coming, and I'm sure that the unknown is hiding amongst the expected.