Happy Birthday, Dad

As I walked this morning, it occured to me that one of the songs I was listening to might resonate with my son, so I thought, "I should make him a CD."  Then, I thought, "Hmmm.  I wonder if he would actually listen to it....." 

But then my mind wandered and a memory started wiggling its way to the surface; the scenario seemed familiar.  And then it burst forth: 

 

    ...a plastic Memorex cassette tape with the words "Sandi Patti"

    scrawled in my dad's somewhat legible handwriting...

 

Ah, yes.  It was familiar because I remember my dad doing the exact same thing for me.  And the reason I was so certain Owen wouldn't listen to it was because I never listened to the tape my dad lovingly made for me.  It makes my heart hurt a little bit to write that, but it's the truth.

 

But today I remembered, and while I initially winced at my disregard for what was obviously a loving gesture by my dad, I am left with simple gratitude for the man that he is now, and always has been.  A couple weeks ago, a friend from Bible study remarked on a Bible I'd left in the prayer room of our former church, saying how much she enjoyed the translation.  In the spot for inscription in the front of that Bible, my dad had filled in my name, his, and the date--my senior year of college.  What's kind of funny is that he also gave me a Bible the year I left for college.  And then there was the small New Testament he gave me the fall my mom was found to have a brain tumor and I sat with him at the hospital while she had surgery and recovered.  Finally, there's my grandma's Bible that he gave me last Christmas after she passed away.

 

My dad has given me so much.  Life.  Love.  Faith.  Things.  Too many to enumerate, so I won't try.  What I will do is say that of all those things, that tape and all those Bibles are the very best.   And not even because I use them so much--like I said, I never listened to the tape, and while I can still account for all the Bibles, I have different translations I use now.  The reason those gifts are so meaningful is because of what they represent; in his trademark understated, quiet, yet persistent way, he was telling me what was most important.  It took some time, but about eight years ago, I really got it. My dad wasn't there when that took place, but he got to hear about it from a distance.  Hopefully, he sees it now every time we get to visit. 

 

I've said before that I like to accept credit for things, and my faith is not untouched by that.  (PRIDE.  ick.)  However, every day, and especially today as I think about my dad on his birthday, I know in the deepest places in my heart that he was always there, doing what God calls all of us who follow Christ to do--sharing the Gospel--even if I didn't seem to be "getting it."  So, on this day when I ought to be thinking of giving gifts to him, I am in the position of humble thanks for what he has given to me.  I am so grateful. 

 

While I do have an actual gift for him, maybe there's something else that's much less tangible, but certainly more meaningful I can give....  In honor of my dad, I'm going to go ahead and make that CD for Owen, not caring if he ever listens to it or not, because there may come a day when he is hit by the memory that his mom cared so much about him that she made him a CD.  

 

For right now, though, I'm heading down to the basement to see if I can find an old cassette tape....  ;)

1 Corinthians 2:1-5
And I, when I came to you, brothers, did not come proclaiming to you the testimony of God with lofty speech or wisdom.  For I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ and him crucified.  And I was with you in weakness and in fear and much trembling, and my speech and my message were not in plausible words of wisdom, but in demonstration of the Spirit and of power, so that your faith might not rest in the wisdom of men but in the power of God.

I got a "direct message" on Twitter this morning from Brandon Hatmaker.  He's the pastor of Austin New Church, co-founder of Restore Communities, and a missional strategist and ministry coach with Missio as well as the author of "Barefoot Church: Serving the Least in a Consumer Culture."  In other words, he's a way smart, way plugged-in guy.  I had just started following him after reading his wife Jen's book "Interrupted: an Adventure in Relearning the Essentials of Faith." (Find it here--http://www.amazon.com/Interrupted-Adventure-Relearning-Essentials-Faith/dp/1600062172/ref=pd_sim_b_2)  Anyway, for several reasons, this direct-message thing kind of freaked me out.  To start, I'm new to Twitter and kind of intimidated;  it feels like something too "hip" for me to really latch onto....  Plus, I'm just not exactly sure how to navigate it or use it yet.  Mostly, though, it freaked me out because in my head, I'm thinking, "ohmygosh!! He knows I'm here and expects me to have something worthwhile to say either on my own initiative or in response to what is sure to be something indredibly wise that he tweets!!  Yikes!"  (Now, after I got over that, I realized that there is probably some sort of automatic message function that gets sent when anybody new starts to follow him.  I'll have to figure that out later.)

I had a similar moment of panic when a friend welcomed me to the Twitter community with this statement:  "Everyone welcome @n_halstead to the twitter fam!  She'll be a great follow!"
Talk about pressure--I'm sure all of my *four* followers are just waiting with bated breath for me to put something meaningful out there....  Or maybe not.  But still.

Our family is going through a transition right now; after much prayer, we are moving on from our church home of eight years.  It's an exciting place to be, but also scary, sad, and overwhelming.  It's caused me to think a lot about my Church history which, for a long time, felt closely linked to my actual faith.  From the time I left college until we landed at our former church, I made several brief infiltrations into various churches--all United Methodist.  Different churches, yes, but same M.O.  (from me):  come right as the service started (or, even better, late enough so as to miss the greeting) and leave at the end of the final song and head quickly to the parking lot without giving anyone an opportunity to make contact excepting the occasional brief smile.  Phew.  Seriously--it was as if I was just expecting my attendance to count as true faith.

But as I take tentative steps into a new church family from a church in which our family was heavily involved, I have to wonder if there was something more to my fleeting entrees into churches all those years ago.  I wonder if what was actually happening was that I didn't want to give anyone the opportunity to know me, lest I fall short of any expectation they may have had of me?  I wonder if I'm having some of those same thoughts as I take a deep breath and one small step after another into another part of the Body?  I wonder, too, if my fear of posting anything on twitter stems from an insecurity in what I could possibly have to offer when there are so many who are so much wiser than me?

There are a lot of things that God speaks into my heart when I have thoughts like that, but what really resonates these days as I venture into new worlds with this blog, twitter, and a new church, is what Paul says in 1 Corinthians 2: 2  "For I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ and him crucified."  So that's where I'm going to (try to) start--by casting aside any pride in what I may or may not know or what I may or may not have to offer, and by bringing in my heart-knowledge that I am nothing apart from the Gospel and that anything that I have to say is only worth something if God's Holy Spirit works in the heart of those that read or hear it.  So as I move forward, I strive to "know nothing" and to speak and write from the un-loftiest, un-wisest place I can in hopes that "Jesus Christ, and him crucified" is all that shines through.