It has been an emotion-filled week. Shouts of joy and parades and confetti turned to some emptiness. But God is God and He is good and it will be just fine. We just feel some loss right now…
http://www.powersadoptionstory.blogspot.com/2012/10/a-story.html
“It doesn’t matter how great the pressure is; what really matters is where the pressure lies – whether it comes between you and God or presses you nearer His heart.”
– Hudson Taylor, Hudson Taylor’s Spiritual Secret
The eyes of the Lord are on the righteous, And His ears are open to their cry. The righteous cry out, and the Lord hears, And delivers them out of all their troubles. The Lord is near to those who have a broken heart, And saves such as have a contrite spirit. Many are the afflictions of the righteous, But the Lord delivers him out of them all. He guards all his bones; Not one of them is broken. The Lord redeems the soul of His servants, And none of those who trust in Him shall be condemned.
Selections from Psalm 34 NKJV
You are so intense, so serious, so zealous about whatever your cause. But you are also still the silliest and can make me laugh at the drop of a hat. Oh, boy of joy, your mama loves you. Like a rock, as Paul Simon sang.
By the time you came, we were resigned to all girls, which would have balanced things quite nicely, thank-you very much, but wow-o-wow, we were sure glad to get our little boy. You upset every fruit basket in your wake, scaled every wall and swung from every ceiling. You were the little ever-so-slightly-naughty who kept all three of your big sisters chasing you down, trying to make you behave, to very little avail.
And you still manage to be the quintessential “little brother” to the older three and Stormie, too, somehow. And like I have always told you, you were all the boy and the only boy God knew I could ever need, let alone handle.
I love you bunches and love how God is blessing you and your beautiful family: the gorgeous Jovan (a wonderful wife to you for 6 years now), and those two sweet baby girls, Averi and Amelie, and now a new little one on the way (a “little Rocky” or another “sweet Jovan,” either way, we win!).
This morning on your birthday, I love you so much, I am re-reading all the great stuff I have said to you or about you for your birthdays on this blog. Here are the highlights from 2011 back to 2007. If you ever need to know how I really feel about you, the depth of my love, I feel like I express my true heart best when I write – so go back and read and accept these blessing words as truth for you and about you. You are a good boy who became a great man. And I love you so…
What do I SEE when I look at you? Well? my word-collage photo card tried to capture those things. But I know there is so much more…
I told the story of God revealing to me that you were both a David (like the Psalmist and your given name) and a Peter (upon this rock of revelation). God’s assurance was so welcome…and true. :) And in 2010 I said,
…before me stands a man, an honorable and good man. He is rugged and handsome, he is gentle and humble. He loves his beautiful wife and he dotes on his little daughters, and they sure do love their daddy. He is strong and gifted, capable, yet unpretentious. You are turning out, Rocky Rhoades. You have turned out to be a wonderful man! Your mama loves you – can you tell?
And I looked forward to the things God was starting in you with the lyrics from “Rain Down.” Now you’re all wet! So cool!
I listed 25 wishes for then. I am still wishing and praying all of it for you and love how God has been answering these things. Like this one:
I wish for you a band of strong brothers-in-the Lord: men who have your heart and your passion to fight the battles with you, like-hearted warriors you can trust.
Songs of healing…soon.
I pray that your voice will be heard. Sunday, as you led worship in The River, I was so impressed at how you communicate a song’s truth. That is different than just singing it. I know you know that. It is what has set you apart and given you a place of leading people into God’s presence through worship. But I know, oh how I know, there is more. There is so much more. There is an amazing power to communicate the deep truths of God, almost ready to be birthed. You stand at the precipice, you defer to others more seasoned. And that is OK for now, but know – the time to speak, the time to speak out with boldness – is coming. Don’t let your youthfulness cause you consternation in this. Live it. Then speak it when He says to. And for the ears of the people to hear, for the hearts to receive…
I don’t pray that you will always be a “vocational” worship leader or a pastor, though you were born into a heritage of that calling and have been blessed to walk this path so young. But I do pray you will always be a worshipper. I pray that the song of the Lord will continue to grow in your heart until it cannot be contained and you are forced to pen the songs of heaven. I pray that you will always minister to the Lord (with your song, your voice, your heart, your all), no matter where you are or what else you may ever do. Worship Him, always, my sweet boy. You were made to praise Him.
I wrote about your birth, the surprise and the euphoria of it. I told the story of how you got your crazy-famous name as “Rocky Rhoades.” I wrote about “little Rocky.” And I remembered your 18th birthday, when you finally went public with your worship and sang people into the Presence.
Isn’t this photo just peaceful and angelic? Can’t you already just see the earnestness in his expression, the resolve to be God’s man? Can you tell he was getting ready to have a poop-explosion that would ruin his white outfit and the photographer’s blankets and set? Hahahahha! Oh, he was.
When he was little, Rocky actually thought the cereal, the ice cream and the TV show by the same name were titled in his honor. When he’d get away from in a store, you’d hear snickers throughout as the loudspeaker announcement declared: Rocky Rhoades, meet your parents at the Service Desk. Rocky Rhoades, please come to the front.
You have made life fun.
At the Tristan/Rocky joint family party the other night. :)
We do! Dave and Tara are going to adopt soon…
My brother Joe is reading an Erwin McManus book, Chasing Daylight, and was reflecting today, on moments, those brief, seemingly insignificant fragments of time that make up the whole of life. Joe shared from the book,
“However mundane a moment may appear, the miraculous may wait to be unwrapped within it.” -McManus
And then Joe pondered how many moments he may have missed, always reaching way out ahead for the “next thing,” or the thing we want more than what is in front of us.
Hey, I thought – I have pondered these same things. There was this book my friend Stephanie gave me…
So I searched my very own blog to share with him and as I re-read it, a post I had written on December 31, 2011, I realized, wow-here we are 260 days into the year and all the things I didn’t know were ahead when I wrote this, so quickly have come and gone. And more than ever I thoroughly realize I wasn’t just writing a clever end-of-year blog post for nameless, faceless readers, I was writing the mandate for my life; my creed, a declaration for my days:
“I am past the halfway mark now, but my senses and ability to feel love have increased exponentially with age, with experience. When the years rolled out ahead like there was no end in sight, I didn’t have to be as cautious in gathering memory, in recording the story, in remembering. But now that the lasts are happening, I don’t want to miss anything, not one thing.”
2012, day 260: I am an archivist, a legacy-leaver. I am telling the stories my family will need to know long after I am gone. I am preserving the small, inconsequential details of times and places and people that will be the foundation for understanding, for self-discovery, for the bright light of realization in times too fast and modern and post-modern to keep up with someday. The history, the memorabilia, the understanding of the great why will be carried close like treasure And the continuity of people and place and things past and their mark and significance on the then-present will connect transcendent dots on an invisible timeline of light and life and love battered, but triumphant. I am recording the gift of all present revelation and the secret clues to answers I may never find, but my progeny will…
“All the days planned for me were written in Your book before I was even one day old. What You have done is wonderful, I know this very well.”
Oh yes, I will carefully archive the evidence my offspring will need to solve the mysteries they face.
2012, day 260: I am an altar-builder. I call down worship in places once darkened by enemy rule and I gather stones of remembrance with sweat pouring off my brow, piling them, stacking the weight of the faithfulness of God throughout the generations towards our family, stone upon stone, line upon line, precept upon precept – to be remembered and dealt with in the light and glory of all for which Jesus’ blood accomplished on our behalves, while we were yet sinners.
I am an altar builder: Remember…don’t forget…oh, do you remember how wonderful this was?…And I will not leave them un-built, regardless of the state of brokenness or disrepair, for God is faithful. He is faithful. He is so faithful. And I am not deterred by the size of the stones, by the effort. I embrace the art it takes to stack stone with mortar, to work until balance is achieved, to build a lasting commemoration for those to come.
And when you have crossed the Jordan, set up these stones on Mount Ebal, as I command you today, and coat them with plaster. Build there an altar to the Lord your God, an altar of stones. Do not use any iron tool on them. Build the altar of the Lord your God with fieldstones and offer burnt offerings on it to the Lord your God. Sacrifice fellowship offerings there, eating them and rejoicing in the presence of the Lord your God. Deuteronomy 27.4-7
For these altars are gates, they are path guides, they are monuments symbolic of all that is completed, on earth as it is in heaven. I am building upon the foundations my parents set before, a great cloud of witnesses. My children and grandchildren and their children will build on these with greater light and revelation.
Swhew! That was a loooooooooong intro! Here is the blog post of which I speak…
Stephanie Morgan brought me a book by that title yesterday at Starbucks. The premise of the book, the author explained, is that in life, we record and particularly note and celebrate all sorts of firsts. There is a baby’s first tooth, first steps, first day of school – all beautiful milestones that deserve our attention! Yet, we are unaware of the things that pass, last things. She explained it by recalling a beautiful day outdoors with her kids when one of the little guys ran up, jumped into her arms, wrapped his legs around her waist and while touching noses told her, “I love you, mommy.” She noticed how big he was getting and how heavy he was, realizing he probably wouldn’t be doing that too much longer. Then she looked across the lawn and saw her oldest son who was about to enter middle school and realized that he used to run and jump into her arms the same way and that at some point it had been the last time.
And the thing about last times is, you usually just don’t know they are happening, and if you did, you might want to take closer note.
O my goodness. I tried to tell Stormie about it when she came by earlier today. Cry. *Sniff, sniff. And to be silly and try not to be all melancholy, I grabbed Gavin, who was here helping us take down our Christmas decorations and cuddled him on to my lap like I have been doing since June 2003 and kissed his cheek and he is getting so big. At 8 1/2 he doesn’t quite melt into his Nonna’s lap anymore (he just told me he has an adult-sized head). He still likes the attention, but is slightly embarrassed. And I jokingly said, “Everybody remember this in case it is the last time.”
There was practically a boooo and an eye-rolling moan from everyone, but also a palpable realization that this – this moment, this totally open relationship between a little boy and his Nonna, is a relationship that will grow and change and be re-defined as he becomes who God created him to be and has to pull away to become independent before he can, with full confidence in who he is, move back in closer with appreciation for these two old people who have loved him since the day he was born. And there is realization that time is flying and kissy-cheeks from Nonna, at least in their present, freely-flowing form, are making their way into a land of remember-when-memories. And growth is good and the destination is the point, but it changes everything you love in the moments that make life worth living to begin with. Nothing stays the same.
I don’t recall, though I love baby’s feet, when the last time I kissed the bottoms of my children’s feet was? I know I kept kissing them, even when they were “too old” for it because it made them laugh and I wanted them to know I adored them all the way from the bottoms of their little feet. They weren’t babies in age, but they were my babies. I can’t remember the last time I braided my little girls’ hair (I remember combing long, silky locks – or terrible tangles…lots of them) or what year I quit weaving red ribbons into their braids at Christmas? In my ornament box, I found a note my mom tucked into the branches of our Christmas tree in 2001…was that my last Christmas with my mom? I don’t know when the last time we sang “Testify” together at some church or played Risk as a family or any other number of mundane things that make up life. When was the last time Tara baked Jiffy pizza-bread sticks, anyway?
I do know the book struck a chord, something deeply reverberating through my heart. I am past the halfway mark now, but my senses and ability to feel love have increased exponentially with age, with experience. When the years rolled out ahead like there was no end in sight, I didn’t have to be as cautious in gathering memory, in recording the story, in remembering. But now that the lasts are happening, I don’t want to miss anything, not one thing.
One year rolls into another. And the year we have just lived, all the beauty and joy and ups and downs and round-abouts and surprises and laughs, the tears, the disappointments, the things that did not go our way – all of it, with the slightest move of a second hand on a clock becomes {*tick} last year, {*tock} a new year.
We get this brand-spanking-new-year in just a few hours. It will be filled with so much yet-undiscovered adventure. I am hoping for 3 new grandbebes in 2012 – or at least some good work toward that! *smile. And I am excited to see what God is going to do through Heaven Fest this year and the songs I have yet to sing and the seasons changing and the garden tomatoes filling my counters and time with the love and watching the incredible lives of my children whom I cherish and the children they share…but like the author of the book, my prayer is, even as each day brings new things in a new year, “Let me hold on longer, God, to every precious last.”
Gavin took a quick break from Christmas packing-away for a snack. I turned on the TV and an old Rockford Files episode was on. I said to the grand-boy, “See James Garner? Now that is some swagger.”
“What show is this, anyway?” he asked me.
“‘The Rockford Files’ from the 1970’s!” I told him.
He grimmaced and asked “Why do people want shows from the 70s anyway? Do they wish they had a time machine so they could go back there or something?”
Haha. Laugh. Laugh. Maybe…
Just now, as I was about ready to push the “publish” button on this post, Gavin was leaving to go home to have a special New Year’s Eve night with his family, games and snacks and good times. He came to say good-bye and I hugged him tight and said, “One last kiss in 2011.” He kissed my cheek. I feigned sorrow, “But now my other cheek needs one last kiss in 2011 – for you and I will never hug and kiss in 2011 ever again.” He giggled and kissed my other cheek before bolting toward the door as he quipped,
“Nuh-uh, Nonna – I will build a time machine to come back to 2011.”
{Heart m e l t i n g } And I would get into that machine, Gav, to collect all the lasts I have maybe missed.
It was blue and very classic black and o-so-hip and the hottest party in town. It was 2 chocolate fountains and bubbles and crazy-fun dancing and an electric blue Mustang for the getaway. There was a 5 tier cake almost 3 feet high and thousands of twinkle lights backlighting a radiant bride and her handsome fella. It was the sun setting and the nightlife lighting up and 2 huge families coming together to celebrate young love and a long-cherished dream come true. There were promises that made us laugh and made us cry and a convivial feast spread across candlelit tables set with beautiful centerpieces on a lovely September evening.
Now here we are, 6 years and 2 gorgeous girls (and baby number three on the way), a first home, and a new minivan later ~ beauty!
It was a lovely wedding, complete with with Phillips, Craig and Dean singing as you served communion to your very special guests, thousands of tiny twinkle lights, and getting Grandma and Grandpa Moslander to dance for the first time since their first anniversary. Shrimp cocktail and that crazy-amazing aged steak from your boss (will I ever experience that goodness again?) and your flower girl and ring bearer rolling down the aisle in a white-satin and lace baby carriage – so fun! A certain song sung in Itailan…Hot pink, bright orange fabric billowing from the roofline to the celebration below, stained glass windows, starry skies, brisk air, smiles and joy. Lots and lots of joy!
And the years since have been so blessed.
Love you and am thoroughly enjoying the Hunter-time!
It’s Averi’s turn! I pre-schooled Gavin first, then Hunter. Then I got Guini time. And most recently there was Gemma, right up until almost Heaven Fest. She is having fun in Kindergarten now. Averi actually joined Gemma for a while and the three of us had lots of fun.
But now? It is just Averi and Nonna time.
She is also above-average smart and way ahead of the pre-school curve. And I am not just saying that because I am her Nonna. It is TRUE! :)
Crayon shavings. Must have sharp crayons!
Guini’s 2nd grade class invited us to a Grandparent’s Day (the next day) appreciation event. They sang for us and did some rap and poetry and then they served us muffins and lemonade.
Her friend, Alana, was assigned to us because her grandparents didn’t live nearby. So we “adopted” her for the day and got double-good treatment.
I really appeciate the school teaching the kids to honor the generations. It will come back to them!
Love my Guin-Guin. Thanks for a delightful time, sweet Guinivere!
Well, a more beautiful day to celebrate your birth, I cannot imagine. I know Stephanie and the kids have been scheming and plotting and you will have a whole weekend of fun and delight for they love you so. And with good reason: you are such a great daddy to those grandbebes of ours and we are so thankful that you married Stephanie almost 11 years ago now.
I totally remember dad spending some time with you and saying, “I wish one of our girls would go for him. That guy has great spiritual insight and a good head on his shoulders.” And though we weren’t really particular about which girl, we should have known, that Stephanie, insightful and sharp-minded as she is, was already discovering what a great catch you were.
So on your birthday, when you’ll be getting lots of gifts, we are hoping to get continued credit for the gift of a gorgeous red-head (or platinum blond, or raven-haired beauty, or whichever phase she is in) to be your wife. It has been a pretty fortuitous and mutually beneficial situation for all of us, I think. My daughter got the man of her dreams, who turned out to be a WONDERFUL man, at that. And the love between you has produced 3 amazingly, quite-above-average, wondrous grandbebes that light our lives. And in return, you get Stephanie and all of us. :) And we all love you so.
The proof of this has been reflected in my blogs since 2007.
Last year I tried to put my words on a “card” and the cool thing is, I could have used a whole billboard and still have filled the space. It was all true then and it is all true now.
Stephanie threw a fun soiree in the backyard, complete with a photo booth and old-fashioned root beer.
I couldn’t help teasing you for not getting that marital permission first! :)
Almost 9 years ago you married our multi-prismed, colorful, feisty, yet tender Stephanie. What a gentle treasure she’d found. What a trustworthy man, fit to hold her heart and walk along in life with her, covering her. We were so pleased then and have not ever for one second had any regret or fear about whether or not she’d done the right thing…even though you forgot to ask permission first {we really do forgive you! haha}. And you became our son. A new son – all grown up and finished (thank you Larry and Chyrl Kelley: GREAT job. Truly!).
You were turning 29 and Stormie made you a Timpano! Which I referred to as “glorious.” And of course there was a fruit pizza, which you know I love to have you request..
I also wrote 29 wishes for your 29th birthday. Here are a few:
- I wish you 50% off days at Mile-High Comics every Labor Day!
- I wish for your full talent as a musician to be recognized beyond your wildest dreams and that you be compensated duly.
- May you get all the best drumsticks and Zildjian cymbals you ever need.
- I wish for you to have good students: the kind who don’t waste your time and who will really learn from the treasure-trove of musical knowledge you possess.
- I pray that as you have dared2work at dare2share, you’ll get credit in heaven for the harvest!
- Tris, I hope you will always be strengthened by knowing that you are so well loved by our whole family.
I still REALLY wish you had taken me up on number 27. It was a GOOD wish!
But please accept #29 again, and for always:
And finally? I pray for God to bless you back, in the same kind and with the same measure with which you have loved us, shown respect to us, honored us and become a part of us. And if He answers that prayer, and I know He will, you will be blessed – on your 29th birthday and always. And I am believing for that!
In Paris earlier this year
In 2008, I said all sorts of things I loved and appreciated for you. And I made you 2 fruit pizzas. And I prayed this prayer over your life:
Grace to you, Tristan, and peace. Be blessed with provision through your giftings and abilities, both the technological and the artistic-musician sides. I pray that resources make themselves available and that your resourcefulness will become an even greater and valued commodity!
May you be preserved in blamelessness your whole life long. May your beautiful wife bring you joy and your children, great delight. May God hear all your prayers and your secret heart’s desires and answer you in times of trouble.
I pray that, while should it ever fall my lot – I would defend you to the death, may the Lord be your defender and protector and may He keep you safe on every side.
I pray that you, planted firmly by living waters, will begin to see the fruitfulness of your faithfulness before God and that this next year will bring blessing on every side, provision, new opportunities and new open spaces. I pray that we’ll see the explosion of the color of you all around, for this new time and place and new year for you and you family.
I just love reading old prayers, actual petitions before the LORD and realizing that He has faithfully and lovingly answered them fully! SO COOL! Happy Birthday to Tristan, I hear Him saying!
You actually created this blog for me in November of 2006. Sometime in 2007, I realized I could tell the world how much I loved my family. I was just plain effusive, talking about how you came to us and described what you looked like when we first met:
…I believe he was wearing all black including a leather coat. He had bleached-blond spiked-up rock-star hair with a lip piercing and those really big plug-style-earrings. But he was not frightening at all. Not in the least. Rather there was sort of this gentle uprightness about him…
I remembered how you reignited the zeal to worship God musically for us, and mentored Rocky past his hear-and-play methods. And about how when you got in the car accident on I-25 on an icy Colorado morning and Stephanie called me at work, quite concerned and overcome with tenderness and care, the light had dawned, me finally realizing: Ooooohhhh-my baby girl is in love, with some one she had already let us know was the “best drummer in the world.”
On Father’s Day
Yes, Tristan, I have been talking about you for years, behind your back and on my blog and hopefully enough to your face that you know I appreciate you, thank God for you and today, like always, I wish for your birthday and every single day of your life to be blessed and joyful. Also, like always, THANK-YOU to Cheri and Larry for raising a wonderful son and sharing him with us.