Do You Have The List?

The question hangs in the air. Do you have The List? We are not referring to: the grocery list, the to-do list, the grudge list, the project list, not even the prayer list. No, not at all.

This List is our Anniversary List. Over the years, a simple piece of paper has become, for Larry and me, a sacred part of our anniversary celebration. It is a chronological inventory of each anniversary, where we were, and what we did to celebrate. Simple, but oh so significant.

One night of the year, every year in June, we STOP and rejoice by reading aloud to each other The Anniversary List. With the passing of years, The List becomes more precious. Slowly, almost reverentially, we focus on each entry, and we remember. 

We recall:

Memories
When our children were born, when they graduated from high school
Mistakes
Opportunities we missed, relationships we neglected, friendships we allowed to drop by the wayside
Major issues
Differences of opinion in discerning the will of God, disappointments we determined to face together, difficulties that threatened to derail us
Miracles
Oh, there have been many: grandchildren miracles, financial miracles, ministry miracles, all supernatural interventions by The Hand of God

We recognize:

Lush years
Lean years
Hurting years
Hard years  
Happy years                                                                                                                                         All      Holy      Years

We acknowledge:

Stick-to-it-tive-ness is essential for a marriage to grow
Both of us still need to learn to listen
Commitment is not an outdated word
Communication is our lifeblood (I am sorry. I was wrong. Will you forgive me? I love you.)
Coffee with prayer is an antidote for almost any dilemma 

And oh my,

We celebrate!

The tenderness of our relationship, 
The gift of our friendship, the gratitude for our family
The joy of fun, the importance of recreation
The value of mutual accountability
The treasure of longevity
The triumph of a shared spiritual pilgrimage
 
All with the help of The List

The List takes us From-To: 

From Panama City - celebrating in Florida at Captain Anderson’s seafood restaurant
To Vienna - enjoying dinner and a concert

From Kraków - holding hands in the back of a horse drawn carriage  
To Warsaw - stopping for one evening, in the midst of living a double life, to truly be ourselves

From The Black Forest - hiking and savoring Kaffee und Kuchen at The Old Mill
To Budapest - laughing and remembering the breakfast buffet where Larry took a bite of his scrambled eggs and discovered he had just taken in a mouthful of glass

And then there is Anniversary No. 8...

Right in the middle of The List is our pseudo anniversary, Anniversary Number 8. This entry, painful to remember, needs to be acknowledged. 
Why? We went: From - celebrating; To - being too busy to celebrate. Our anemic attempt to try fell short. When we reach No. 8, we just shake our heads and say, “Shame on us."

Eventually, The List comes to an end. Nostalgia has done its nourishing, and we pause to praise and to pray. "Thank You, God. Thank You, Thank You, God."

If you live to be a hundred,
I want to live to be a hundred
minus one day, so I never
have to live without you. 
        -Winnie the Pooh        

The List began 15,695 days ago today, June 8th. When we are asked,  “How long have you been married?", our answer is:

"Not long enough."

Our Storm at Sea

The look on Larry's face confirmed our desperate plight. He exerted all of his human strength to steer the boat upright and to keep us alive. He cried out, “Oh Lord, SAVE US, PLEASE, SAVE US!” 

And it all happened instantaneously. 

Sailing captivates our family, and three members possess their International Sailing License. For me, sailing represents glorified camping on water. But I consider myself a team player, and my need for inclusion motivates me to participate. 

Our customized adventure to spend a week together on a sailboat had been planned and prayed over several years. Finally the dream was realized, and we set out. Budapest, our home, was within driving distance to Croatia, which offers a rugged coastline along the Adriatic Sea. The topography is breathtaking with a thousand islands jutting up from the deep azure-colored water.

The initial days were idyllic and engaging. As we approached mid-week, we were basking in the joy of being outdoors and being together. This particular afternoon, the weather was spectacular. Calm seas, light wind, warm sunshine...I even had my turn steering at the helm, and had to admit, this was family time at its best. 

Suddenly, without warning, three independent storms converged in uncharacteristic fashion and created the perfect storm. Black, eerie darkness descended, and we were the victims of a phenomenon at sea that no meteorologist could have predicted.

In the blink of an eye, our lives were in grave and serious danger. Being 10 nautical miles out, there was no hope of shelter. Gale force winds, 60-75 miles an hour, threatened to crash us into one of the rocky islands. Howling wind swirled in a 360-degree motion; vicious waves soared 16 feet high; visibility was reduced to 50 feet. Lightning danced all around our craft, and our overwhelming feeling was one of utter helplessness. 

The look on Larry's face confirmed our desperate plight. He was using all of his strength to steer the boat upright and to keep us alive. He cried out, “Oh Lord, SAVE US, PLEASE, SAVE US!” 

On board this boat were the six people that I held most dear; apart from a miracle, we faced a certain death at sea. The sense of isolation gripped us, and with each merciless wave, we braced for capsizing. Struggling to control her panic, my daughter verbalized what each of us felt, “I am doing everything that I can not to cry.” 

Never before or since have I lived through such an ongoing and extended period of dramatic threat to my life. I felt on the brink of eternity, and wondered which monstrous wave would be the one to take me to Jesus. 

It's odd the details one remembers about a crisis.

I remember the consuming darkness.

I remember the ongoing struggle of wrestling with the sheer panic.

I remember the mental tenacity required to focus. 

I remember the horrific sound of the glasses crashing together inside the cabinets.

And...

I remember the lifejackets were stowed in a completely inaccessible place. 

Another detail -

I remember feeling compelled to sing. Yet, somewhere into my list of hymns, a spokesman for the group asked for my singing to cease. The seriousness of the situation mandated  silence. 

And then…

I remember, 

... without announcement, an unsuspecting sliver of light broke through the ink-black darkness. Oh the glorious, blessed effect of God's gift of light! With this tiny break in the clouds, came a ray of hope that we actually might survive. Though we were not out of danger, we at least sensed the storm was beginning to subside. As the wind and lightning diminished, Larry navigated the boat into a protected cove. Once anchored, we breathed a collective sigh of relief and waited out the rest of the storm. Our lives had been on the brink of destruction, but God spared us.

With trembling bodies and frayed emotions, we finally emerged from our protected cove, and slowly sailed to a marina where we docked and set about putting our lives back together. The aftershock was extreme. We shivered, though bundled in blankets. We stared wide-eyed awake, though exhausted. Individual reflections from each of the six of us made it abundantly clear that the storm's impact on us would last long past the crisis itself. 

Later, the news bulletin classified this as the worst storm in 25 years, with the epicenter being at our exact location. Reports confirmed that eight boats had hull damage, three had broken masts, and three actually sank. We felt fortunate to have survived without tragedy.

Our storm at sea left me with a sobering life principle:

In the face of a storm, there is no time for preparation. Preparation must precede the need.

Larry had to call upon every ounce of his strength, training and skill to be able to handle the boat in this storm. Not a nanosecond was available to grab the manual and read the instructions.

Storms of Life, headaches and heartaches, are inevitable and show no respect for timing. They leave no time for preparation. I now live with a conviction: readiness comes from living a life of leaning on Jesus. 

" Then they cried out to the Lord in their trouble, and He brought them out of their distress. 

He stilled the storm to a whisper; the waves of the sea were hushed.

They were glad when it grew calm, and He guided them to their desired haven."

(Psalm 107: 28-31)

 Living With Eternal Intentionality®

When is the last time you found yourself in one of life’s storms and how did you mentally, physically, emotionally, and spiritually survive?

Are you in one of those storms at this very moment? Whom is God using to throw you a lifeline?

A Soldier's Kiss

I was way beyond the boundaries of my comfort zone.

Memories of that evening will stay with me forever. I was way beyond the boundaries of my comfort zone; I was way beyond the boundaries of my own country. And I was embarking on a journey that would take me way beyond the boundaries of NATO. All I had was my husband, my17-month-old little daughter, and my American passport.

I should have been scared out of my wits. Instead, I was just focused. We were on a two-week reconnaissance mission to arrange our permanent assignment for living in Communist Poland. This trip was designed to answer two basic questions: exactly when should we move in; exactly where should we live?

Our brief stay in Vienna, selected as our base of operations, gave us just enough time to feel comfortable in this glorious city. A marvelous mixture of culture and cosmopolitan, this was a paradise of all things lovely - architecture, museums, palaces and pastries. The music of Mozart and the art of Klimt imposed on us the feeling of “Ah, this would be a fabulous place to live, a wonderful place to call home.” Every passing day made it harder and harder to prepare to leave. 

Finally, the tedious paperwork was done. The official visas were in hand, and the designated day of travel arrived. Our bags were packed, disposable diapers, a luxury, were purchased, and hour-by-hour, we watched the clock. The Chopin Express, the name given to the train to carry us across Austria, across Czechoslovakia, and into Poland, left at 10 pm from the Südbahnhof. Our entire day was structured with the departure in mind.

Conversation on our drive to the station grew quieter with each traffic light.  The inhabitants in this part of the city were certainly different from the ones who walked along Kärtnerstrasse and the Graben. 

When we stepped from our car, we sensed a foreboding atmosphere surrounding the Südbahnhof, the large terminal for all trains traveling to the Communist-held countries of Eastern Europe. Following instructions, we bade good-bye to our colleague at the curb on the side of the station; he should not be seen with us on the platform. 

Our little troupe merged with the crowd, assuming we would blend in. Wrong. Heads turned, and then turned again. The unspoken question on faces was consistent: “Why on earth were these two Americans taking a Baby and traveling beyond the borders of Austria into Eastern Europe, and why were they traveling in late winter?” 

But this was a scene where questions were never asked. Here all travelers guarded both their travel permits and their purpose for travel with urgency and confidentiality.

Suspicion, secrecy, and sensitivity were unspoken realities in this somber setting.

Practical matters at hand urged us forward. Larry carried the bags, and I carried The Baby. Shoving past bodies, we climbed on board and located our sleeping compartment. Once our bags were stowed overhead, we collapsed into our seats. The journey had not even begun, and we were already exhausted. 

While the train was still in the station, we busied ourselves getting our little girl ready for bed. We removed her small boots, took off her bright yellow snowsuit with red and blue trimming, and put on her coziest fuzzy sleeper. With care, we made a pallet on the floor, and put her down. In no time, she was fast asleep. Our youngest traveling companion had no idea of the historical mission ahead; she only knew she was with Mommy and Daddy, and she was safe.

The giant station clock struck ten, and the conductor blew his whistle. Our train lurched forward to leave its house in Vienna. With that motion of machinery, Larry, Debby and AnneColeman officially embarked on our first journey into The East, a journey that would forever change our lives. The three of us, our small family, were leaving the Free World and heading into parts unknown. Poland was our destination, and it would take all night to get there, but it would take a lifetime to come back. “Oh God, please protect us.”

Ker-click, ker-click, ker-click. Sounds of the wheels on the track were constant. Into the impenetrable blackness, the train swayed left and right, back and forth. Across Austria, across Czechoslovakia, we traveled. Off and on all night, we heard the loudspeaker, in one station after another, blaring in an indistinguishable foreign tongue, another name of another town we were passing through. Sometimes we would clear the foggy window and peer into the darkness. The ice on the window let us know just how cold it was outside.

All the while our Baby slept undisturbed on the floor. 

More ominously, each time the train crossed an international border, weapon-bearing soldiers boarded, and one-by-one, examined each person’s travel documents. Anyone suspicious would be expelled from the train. 

I tensed when the footsteps approached our compartment. The routine was consistent: a pair of soldiers pounded the door, shoved open the door, flipped on the light, and demanded to see our passports. Somehow the border checks in The Sound of Music were more sanitized than this. I shoved down my fear and prayed while Larry served as designated buffer between these men and me.

All the while our Baby slept undisturbed on the floor.

Finally, we crossed the last border. The procedure seemed exactly the same: heavy fists pounded on the door, loud voices barked commands. Larry unlocked the compartment door, the obtrusive light was flipped on, and the routine began. “Passports!”

The uniform of the soldier, only one this time, identified him as Polish. Pause. Oh my. Here was our first encounter with the first person from the nation destined to become our home. A soldier.

Welding a machine gun, this soldier carried out the formalities of his assignment just as all the other military guards throughout the night had carried out theirs. He seemed especially tired, and I was alarmed with how careless he was in handling his weapon as he let it wave back and forth, pointing down at the floor, the floor where my Baby was sleeping!

Unable to remain calm, I inserted myself into the international transaction. Using urgent sign language, I pleaded: “Please be careful with your machine gun! There is a BABY on the floor, on the floor where you are pointing your gun!”

What occurred next can never be explained, but will never be forgotten. This Polish soldier reverently removed his hat to reveal a head of combed blond hair. With obvious care, he put his machine gun behind his back, and knelt down on his knees. Shoving aside all military protocol, and with the tenderest of affections, the soldier bent and kissed our little sleeping Baby. Right then and there. 

one couple…
       one baby…
              one soldier…
                     one Polish soldier

I quietly gasped; hardly able to believe what my eyes told me was true. 

Just as quietly, the blond-haired Polish soldier stood again to his full height, placed his hat on his head, handed Larry three passports, and left.

The click of the door left behind a holy hush. Did that just happen? Yes. Yes, it did. On a bitter cold March night in no man’s land, Poland, God warmed our hearts with an unmistakable awareness of His Presence. God sent an angel in the form of a Polish military officer to remind us of His holy care on this holy mission. He revealed to me the true heart of these people, and let me know we could make our dwelling among them.

All the while our Baby slept undisturbed on the floor.

“My Lord and My God.”  (John 20:28)