I have a habit of writing things down in random word files and then saving them to obscure places on my hard drive. Someday I'll really use the several folders I've created titled "kristie's writing" or "writing"  But for now, I am accepting that I can happen upon these files and they can be a fun surprise. :) This one I wrote a few months ago, late Oct, and it speaks to community, trial, joy, living well...and I think that is some of what we're experiencing through this journey we're walking with the Kelly's and other families in our church...and maybe there are secret sadnesses and fears that you haven't said out loud to us yet...and I want you to know...that this is a great community to do that with. You are safe. I have seen it...and I trust it.

Here is what I found today in a random word doc file:

        From the time I was about 4 years old until I was 11, my grandparents on my dad's side were on the decline.  My grandpa had about a zillion strokes and brushes with cancer, and my grandma was blind and caring for him. They lived in a cute house in Burbank just about 4 miles from our home, and so it became our custom to bring dinner over. We did this about once a week. My mom would cook a full meal for all 6 of us (my mom, dad, brother, grandma, grandpa and I) and then take it over to their house. We would sit together at their table and spend time together and share in life.

          My grandpa, a brilliant man who loved writing poetry and reading philosophy books, had been paralyzed on his left side by a few of the strokes. He could speak out of the right side of his mouth, but it was always slurred and slow, difficult to understand.

          I remember watching my family feed him, and wipe his face when the food would slide down his chin. My mom and dad always pointed out to me how joyful he was, even though his situation was rather unfortunate. He lived this way for 7 years. Through one side of his mouth he would write beautiful poetry and my grandma would write it down, even though she was legally blind.  They would reminise and tell stories of all the times they traveled to national parks and to their favorite island of Hawaii. My dad would go and get them a Christmas tree each year, and my aunt would balance their checkbook.

            I would go over to play when my mom had something she needed to do, and my grandma would take my brother and I on nature walks around the neighborhood to collect acorns and seadpods which had fallen from the tree. One time we came home and strung all of the acorns together and made a necklace.  In those years we dyed easter eggs, made holiday cookies and sat on the swing in the backyard drinking fresh lemonade. This deep life we lived, despite the broken way things were, was so beautiful I wish you could have been there to see it.

            I think back on it, and I suppose that we could've really just dropped dinner off. We could have left what they needed and gone back to our house where it was easier to eat dinner and have a conversation. Instead we lived life together. We walked into hospital rooms together, and threw birthday parties and anniversaries around hospital beds and dinner tables. We prayed together and thanked God for all of our blessings.

            I suppose God could've just dropped Jesus off for 33 years, taken care of business, and then gone back to the comfort of His perfect place, but he hasn't. He's chosen to live life with us, by His Spirit in our midst.  He lived life on earth, to know what the human condition feels like and so now he knows how hard it can be. He gets us. I love that about Him. It's the amazing paradox of a God who knows the whole story...yet still will live it with us. He is so tender in the way he desires to walk the road with us, and not merely leave us the tools to do it, and then walk away. It makes for a deeper and richer life.

            When I look back on the last year of my life, I think of all the moments along the journey that have been so rich. The relationships with the people I've been able to walk the road with, have been transforming.  I have seen God move in a way that has developed a deeper trust, that no other circumstance could have taught me.

            The church burned down one year ago this Sunday. It's been difficult. I won't say it's been easy. I've been pushed and pressed and stressed in the most intense ways. We as a community have tried to choose joy and to consider it joy in this trial. In many ways, I've seen Malibu Pres "choose life" and as a church people we have said "yes" to this journey. When many have walked away, we have grown in depth and care for each other.

            It's been good, and I think that deep life is about saying "yes" to walking well through life's trials. It's in walking the road that you get to see all the beauty, the ease of the other option is shallow and less than what God calls us into...life to the full.