Stephanie Rische

Blogger and Writer: Capturing Stories of God's Grace

Saying Goodbye

We weren’t made to say goodbye.

Goodbye always comes like a thief…unexpected, startling, jarring. And too soon. Always too soon.

Even when we know it’s coming, there’s no real way to be prepared.

I think of my friend Sarah, whose dad is too young to have cancer. She was just there for Christmas, and he was his usual cheerful self, playing endless games of pretend with his grandkids, fixing things around the house, eating his trademark bologna sandwich. She’s not ready to say goodbye.

I think of the parents in Newtown who sent their children off to school one December morning, with no way of knowing it would be the last hug, the last wave, the last goodbye.

I think of the city of Boston, all abuzz with the spirit of friendly competition earlier last week, never dreaming it would be a day for goodbyes.

I’m not typically someone who shirks reality, but lately I find myself flipping channels when the news comes on, skipping over the bad news stories, closing my ears to yet another tale of premature goodbyes.

It isn’t supposed to be this way. We weren’t made for goodbyes.

***

Over Easter my extended family made a road trip out east to see my brother and his family—a rare treat for all of us to be happily sardined in one place. When it was time to leave, we went through the long, ceremonial goodbyes, offering hugs and inside jokes and recaps of the trip and promises to get together again soon.

Then it came time for my mom to say goodbye to four-year-old Lyla, her only granddaughter. Mom stretched out her arms and  wrapped the girl, pajamas and all, in one of those all-encompassing hugs only a grandma can pull off. I didn’t have to look at her face to know she was crying.

Lyla pulled back and looked intently into her grandma’s face.

“Grandma,” she said, her tone somber, grown-up. “I can make you cry.”

“You sure can!” My mom smiled at Lyla through her tears.

Without missing a beat, Lyla delivered her line: “Knock-knock.”

Mom looked surprised but played along. “Who’s there?”

“Boo.” A smug grin crept onto Lyla’s face.

“Boo who?”

With that, Lyla threw her arms around Grandma and giggled. The laughter was infectious, and before long, all of us were giggling like little girls.

It felt biblical, in a way. Tears into laughter. Mourning into joy.

Weeping may last through the night, 

but joy comes with the morning.

—Psalm 30:5

***

I have no words to make sense of senseless tragedy or to explain when people have to say goodbye before their time.

mom and lyla2But I do know that we were made for a different world. A world where there’s no crying or death or sorrow or pain. A world where, overnight, weeping morphs into joy.

He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there will be no more death or sorrow or crying or pain. All these things are gone forever.

—Revelation 21:4

Come, Lord Jesus.

Why love if losing hurts so much? We love to know that we are not alone. 

—C. S. Lewis

Do One Thing

wbez4Last weekend Daniel and I volunteered to help man the booth for His Wheels International at WBEZ’s sixth annual Global Activism Expo.

Seizing a few moments of downtime, I walked around the huge convention room and scoped out almost 100 organizations that are committed to assisting developing countries around the world—from Congo to Haiti to Afghanistan.

As I wove my way through the booths, I heard story after heartbreaking story of poverty and malnourishment, of mothers who died from simple birthing complications, of children whose lives were cut short because they lacked clean water, of people who hiked for days to reach the nearest hospital, with no guarantee that once they got there they’d get the care they needed.

I was barely halfway around the room before I found myself going into overload mode. So many needs. So many good causes. So many worthy organizations. Where to begin?

After lunch, as I made my way through the room a second time, I was struck by something I hadn’t noticed the first time around. The handmade wares that were being sold, crafted by individuals from various poverty-stricken areas, all had a common thread: resourcefulness.

I saw…

  • purses made by Cambodian women out of leftover fish nets
  • medical supplies donated by hospitals that otherwise would dump them into landfills
  • solar-powered ovens fueled by the sun and “paper charcoal” (basically bricks of recycled newspaper)
  • scarves made from material scraps, woven together in beautiful rainbows of color

These people didn’t have much, but they were creative with what they had in excess.

It struck me that although I’m just an average person in an average community, these artisans would think I’m sitting on a goldmine. How many resources do I have right under my nose that I don’t even consider resources, if I notice them at all?

When I look through the eyes of resourcefulness, though, I can see that I’ve been given much by a much-giving God. And he charges me to share the much I have.

When someone has been given much, much will be required in return; and when someone has been entrusted with much, even more will be required.

—Luke 12:48

That sounded good, but as I looked around the room, I felt kind of panicky. Where, oh where, to begin? Then this thought hit me with all the force of a dodgeball to the gut: I don’t have to do everything, but I can do one thing.

So perhaps the place for me to begin is the same place as these whose handiwork I was admiring: What do I have in excess?

And now I pose the same question to you: What has God given generously to you? An excess of time? Creative ideas? Business savvy? Technical skills? Money? Extra rooms in your house? Love?

Don’t try to do everything. But do one thing.

***

{Not sure where to start? Here are some organizations my husband and I support that you might want to check out.}

Casa Viva

Medical Teams International

ServantWorks

Women at Risk

World Vision

His Wheels International

Friday Favorites

For grammar geeks with a sweet tooth:
I couldn’t help but crack up about these cakes gone grammatically wrong: Cake Wrecks

cake1

For introverts (and those who love them):

Donald Miller shares these practical tips for living with and loving introverts: How to Get along with an Introvert

For word nerds:
If you are a word nerd like me, you will deliciate in these obsolete words. Let’s bring them back!
Obsolete Words That Should Make a Comeback

For anyone weary of the “perfect life syndrome”:
Shauna Niequist offers this insightful perspective about our tendency to compare our own real life with everyone else’s peak moments: Instagram’s Envy Effect

For anyone who knows someone who’s ill:
Here’s some practical advice about how to avoid sticking your foot in your mouth when someone you know is sick: How Not to Say the Wrong Thing

Sweet Sundays, Part 3

sweet_sundays_artworkFor the first time this Easter, it struck me just how many key events of the Christian faith are crammed in the span of a single week.

Holy Week starts with a bang on Palm Sunday, replete with a triumphal entry and jubilant hosannas. The next few days are filled with action—tables are turned, miracles are witnessed, final teachings are delivered.

Then comes Maundy Thursday in all its drama…a foot washing, a supper steeped in meaning, a wrenching betrayal, prayers of agony in a garden.

Close on its heels is Good Friday, with the dark march toward Golgotha, nails pounded into flesh, the rending of a curtain.

Then, after a whirlwind of a week, Saturday comes. And with it…silence.

At the close of Salvation Week, as with Creation Week, God rested.

It is finished.

No more striving.

No more scurrying.

No more trying.

It is finished.

Even in the busiest week of the church calendar, Jesus took a day of rest.

There was nothing more he could do to add to the completed work of grace on that silent Saturday. So I wonder…what kind of audacity leads me to think there’s more I must do?

Let us rest in the completeness of that perfect day of rest.

It is finished.

{For more on my Sabbath musings, see this post and this post.}

April Book of the Month Club

a_year_of_biblical_womanhoodCongratulations to Jolyn, who won the free book giveaway for March!

And now, the book of the month for April…The Year of Biblical Womanhood by Rachel Held Evans.

Here’s the description of the book from the author’s website:

Strong-willed and independent, Rachel Held Evans couldn’t sew a button on a blouse before she embarked on a radical life experiment—a year of biblical womanhood.

Intrigued by the traditionalist resurgence that led many of her friends to abandon their careers to assume traditional gender roles in the home, Evans decides to try it for herself, vowing to take all of the Bible’s instructions for women as literally as possible for a year. Pursuing a different virtue each month, Evans learns the hard way that her quest for biblical womanhood requires more than a “gentle and quiet spirit” (1 Peter 3:4).​

It means growing out her hair, making her own clothes, covering her head, obeying her husband, rising before dawn, abstaining from gossip, remaining silent in church, and even camping out in the front yard during her period. With just the right mixture of humor and insight, compassion and incredulity, A Year of Biblical Womanhood is an exercise in scriptural exploration and spiritual contemplation.

What does God truly expect of women, and is there really a prescription for biblical womanhood? Come along with Evans as she looks for answers in the rich heritage of biblical heroines, models of grace, and all-around women of valor.

We’ll be discussing the book at the end of April (and again, there will be a free book giveaway for one lucky commenter). Please join us!

March Book Club: The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake

theparticularsadnessofthelemoncakeThanks for joining our discussion about The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake by Aimee Bender. I’ll throw out some topics for discussion, and you can put your comments about these or other topics in the comments section.

Discussion #1: Taste and Emotion
I was intrigued by the connection between taste and emotions. Although I don’t have Rose’s gift for tasting what people are feeling, I do think food can be tightly intertwined with emotion. When I bite into Mom’s cinnamon-swirl French toast, washed down with a sip of her coffee, I taste the nostalgic warmth of countless Sunday brunches around her kitchen table. When I taste my sister Meghan’s cooking, I find myself ready for adventure, my palette eagerly anticipating whatever concoction of spices she has woven into the recipe this time. The taste of a ripe raspberry inevitably transports me to Grandpa’s garden, and I can practically feel the hot desert sun on my back as the memories of childhood summers rush into my mouth.

What did you think about Rose’s odd talent? What foods evoke specific emotions for you?

Discussion #2: Wacky Family
Rose Edelstein’s family certainly has some dysfunctional relationships—and distinct quirks (a hospital-phobic father; a trapped, immature mother; a hermit-like, genius brother; and Rose herself, whose “special talent” for tasting feelings threatens to drive her to the brink. I read an article that compared the family to the Glass family in J. D. Salinger’s short stories, and that struck me as just about right.

Though not all the characters are necessarily likable, I found them empathetic and well written, not to mention deliciously quirky. What did you think of the characters? Did you have a favorite?

Discussion #3: Do You Buy It?
The story has some fantastical elements to it that ask readers to suspend belief. Rose’s odd talent is revealed early in the story; her brother Joseph’s talent is revealed fairly late in the book, although we are given clues throughout the story that something out of the ordinary is happening. For some reason I was ready to jump on board with Rose’s ability to taste feelings, but the author just didn’t get me to go along with Joseph’s chair-morphing abilities.

How about you? Did you find the characters’ fantastical elements believable? And on a related note, where do you think Joseph goes when he disappears? Does he actually become part of the furniture? Does he time travel? Is he suspended in some kind of spatial limbo?

Discussion #4: Fear of Giftedness
Rose viewed her special talent with alternating panic and annoyance; Joseph kept his odd ability a secret to the world; and their father was so paralyzed by his potential hospital-related gift that he avoided hospitals altogether. Perhaps these characters were worried other people wouldn’t understand, or perhaps they were simply afraid of their own powers. Although the book doesn’t offer much in the way of tidy resolutions, we get the idea that Rose’s moment of redemption comes when she is able to share her gift at the wine-tasting bar after years of keeping it locked away.

Do you (or people you know) keep your greatest talents a secret? What do you think accounts for our tendency to do that?

Discussion #5: Absentee Punctuation
I listened to this book on audio, so I didn’t know until a friend told me that there are no quotation marks used to indicate dialogue! I’m not sure this grammar nerd could have handled that for a whole book.

Did that bother you? Why do you think the author chose to go that route?

Rating: ★ ★ ★
I would give this book 3 stars. I found the premise intriguing, but the delivery turned out to be darker and more oddball than I prefer. Still, I’m glad I read it.

How many stars would you give the book?

{Reminder: I will give away a free book to one randomly selected commenter!}

Women of Valor

I don’t know about you, but every time I read Proverbs 31, I feel tired. Maybe a little incredulous too (Seriously? This woman wakes up early, stays up late, weaves blankets, cooks, works outside the home, helps the needy, makes savvy business deals, wears a purple dress she made herself, and then probably posts it all on Pinterest? Who is this woman?).

Mostly, though, I just feel weary. And then I skip over to the next book in the Bible (Ecclesiastes) to remind myself that everything is meaningless anyway.

But I’m currently reading The Year of Biblical Womanhood by Rachel Held Evans, and she has given me a new perspective on the Proverbs 31 woman.

rachel1Apparently this chapter was written as an acrostic poem, intended as an ode to honor women, not a bunch of to-dos. In Jewish culture, this wasn’t a checklist for women to strive for; instead, men praised women with the phrase “Eshet Chayil” (“Woman of Valor”), taken from the first line of the poem.

In other words, this depiction isn’t intended to describe one woman, and it certainly isn’t meant to capture a single day of her life. Rather, it’s a shout-out to all women.

So today I want to take a moment to acknowledge all of you women of valor out there. I see you, and I honor you.

You give of yourself—your talents, your time, your tears—and usually do it without getting much thanks. Eshet Chayil!

You wipe bottoms and blow noses and get up in the middle of the night. Eshet Chayil!

You work inside your home and outside your home, in your career and in your kitchen and in your relationships, and my guess is that you’re tired. Eshet Chayil!

You are fierce in your love, zealous in your protection, tenacious in your prayers. Eshet Chayil!

You hug well, you comfort well, you bring life and goodness and joy. Eshet Chayil!

You don’t know it, but you shine. So here’s to you, you Woman of Valor! Eshet Chayil!

***

P.S. A special Eshet Chayil to my mom, Cindy, who just celebrated her birthday. Mom, you showed me when to stand up for myself and when to stay on my knees. You showed me how to how to make homemade snickerdoodle cookies and when to rip open a box of Keeblers. You taught me that sometimes things have to get worse before they can get better. You showed me how to follow through, how to clean an oven, how to knit a family together, how to giggle on waterslides, and how to fall in love with God’s Word. No woman fulfills the entire Proverbs 31 picture, but I have to say that you come pretty close. Happy Birthday, Mom of Valor!

Friday Favorites

For grammar geeks…fri1

I do love me some punctuation. Here are some new marks for those situations when a semicolon just isn’t enough: Obscure Punctuation Marks That Should Really Get More Play

For sports fans…

I’ve seen a lot of fine moments in basketball, but this is most heartwarming thing I’ve ever seen happen on the floor of a gymnasium: When Both Teams Win

For book lovers…

This memoir by Melanie Shankle will make you laugh and cry: Sparkly Green Earrings

For tired moms…

This is for all my friends who do heroic mom-things day after day: Burnout Is a Thing

For folk music/bluegrass fans…fri3

I recently rediscovered this album, and I’ve been listening to the song “Still” on constant repeat: Marty Feldhake’s Fences and Fields

For anyone who loves someone with special needs: This article by Amy Julia Becker is a heartwarming reminder that all people are stamped with the image of God—a fitting way to acknowledge Down Syndrome Awareness Day: Missing Out on Beautiful

For anyone who is looking for a miracle…

This is a beautifully written story about how miracles tend to come in unexpected packages:

A Tuesday Kind of Miracle

God as a Runner

One of the highlights of my week occurs at 9:02 each Sunday morning. That’s the moment five-year-old Grace gets to church, and before she even gets her coat off, she comes barreling down the aisle to throw her arms around Daniel and me. She squeals with delight the moment she spots us (most likely because she knows Daniel has some antic up his sleeve to make her laugh), and then she’s heading toward us in an all-out sprint, pink dress flying behind her.

There is something breathtaking about the love of a child—unchecked, unbridled, unselfconscious as it is. At five, Grace doesn’t know to be jaded or cynical; she’s never had her heart broken; she doesn’t love as a means to an end. She just extends loves with the openhearted generosity of a child.

“You know, I feel bad sometimes that Grace shows us so much love,” Daniel told me one Sunday as we headed home from church.

I shot him a sideways glance, utterly befuddled. “What?”

“Well, it’s just that we haven’t done anything to deserve her love.”

My initial thought was to list off all of Daniel’s qualities that endear him to every child he meets—his goofy sense of humor, his knack for asking good questions, his way of making people feel special and dignifying their feelings. But then it hit me: ultimately he’s right. We don’t deserve that kind of love.

Eventually a smile crept across my face. “I guess she’s pretty well named, huh?”

God’s grace in the form of a sprinting five-year-old.

***

The Bible depicts God with a number of metaphors that speak to his reverence and majesty: he is a just judge, a consuming fire, a sovereign King. But what a shock to see the one true God—whose holiness can’t be contained within the walls of even the most extravagant Temple—pictured as a father who loves his wayward child so much he literally runs to him.

While [his son] was still a long way off, his father saw him coming. Filled with love and compassion, he ran to his son, embraced him, and kissed him.

—Luke 15:20

That image of a father running to a prodigal would be stunning enough on its own (see more in this post). But given the cultural context Jesus was speaking into, it’s even more breathtaking. As one Bible commentator puts it, the father’s action “breaks all Middle Eastern protocol; no father would greet a rebellious son this way.” It would have been degrading to his position, a blow to his pride, yet the father “drapes himself on his son’s neck,” as the Greek text is literally rendered. In other words, God is willing to make a fool of himself to show us his love.

Allow yourself to picture it now: our God as a runner.

He is running toward you, even now.

Will you let him throw his arms around you—those everlasting arms of grace?

grace cropped

What Do You Want?

It’s the kind of question I might expect at the McDonald’s drive-through, but not from God himself:

What do you want?

According to Scripture, however, God is quoted as saying exactly that—once in the Old Testament and in one scene in the New Testament.

When Solomon became king, the Lord appeared to him in a dream and asked him a single question:

“What do you want?”

—1 Kings 3:5

When Jesus met a blind man begging along on the road, he posed the same question, verbatim:

“What do you want?”

—Mark 10:51

It’s intriguing that an omniscient God would ask the question at all—surely he knows the hearts of all people and doesn’t need to ask. And in the blind man’s case, wasn’t the need pretty obvious?

Our deepest longing—that one thing we desire above all else—exposes who we really are. And that kind of soul-nakedness is downright scary.

But perhaps that’s the very reason God wants us to name it, to ask for it. There’s something about saying the request out loud that makes it realer in our hearts. There’s something about forming our desire into words and tasting it on our tongues that brings it to life.

In other words, maybe the request isn’t for God’s sake but for our own.

What about you? If God appeared to you and you could ask him for one thing—just one thing—what would you ask him for? Wisdom? Vision? Healing? Wholeness? Would you ask him to fill a void in your life? Or to restore something that was lost?

What is it that you want more than anything else?

There’s no guarantee God will give you that thing you ask for. But I can promise you this: God delights in hearing your deepest, nakedest requests. For it’s often in that vulnerable space that we get something more than we bargained for: we get God himself.

God, of thy goodness, give me Thyself;
for Thou art enough for me,
and I can ask for nothing less
that can be full honor to Thee.
And if I ask anything that is less,
ever shall I be in want,
for only in Thee have I all.
―Julian of Norwich