I sat in the tufted leather chair with Davis staring at me from the other side of the large conference table. Our lawyer friend sat between us and, armed with pens in hand, we were ready to sign and date a stack of official papers. We weren’t splitting up. We were signing end of life documents which were all based on the presumption that we are of sound mind- something that’s, at times, debatable. We’d recently had some living wills done and were also giving our old wills an overhaul. No one was being written out or anything dramatic like that, but situations always change with time. 

We’ve had wills since the kids were born. Back then, it listed their guardians and backup guardians in the case of our untimely demise. At that point, we were young, our skin was taut, and death seemed like such an impossibility. A will was more of just a formality. I know young people die, everyday, but the low odds kept the notion tucked way back in the recesses of our minds. But, as I’m now about to hit the halfway mark of the 50’s and Davis has crossed over the rickety bridge to the 60’s, I guess we’re at the age when we feel more of a push to finalize those unpleasantries no one wants to discuss. Living wills, of course, prevent one from lingering in a hopeless vegetative state hooked up to machines, but won’t allow for any premature unplugging either- in the event the children try to move things along to keep some non-refundable reservations at a tropical resort or something like that. I suppose the next thing we’ll need to do is get our burial plots secured, so Davis isn’t tempted to stick me in one at the back of the cemetery by the dumpsters that he finds at a steal.

I think it was when I crossed over into my 50’s that I started to think differently about life and death. About legacy and purpose. About time and resources. If you want to get a realistic perspective on how fast your material footprint will be erased, you just have to watch children break up their parents’ home after they’ve passed. They’ll claim a few things for themselves, and divide the rest between sell, donate, and trash. In a month or two, everything their parents built, collected, treasured, and accumulated is emptied out, dispersed, and a for sale sign is in the yard of the house they’d worked so hard to buy. There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s the natural flow of life and death and the passing of the generations and we have no reason to believe the same won’t be true for us when we’re gone. Our kids don’t live in Mississippi now and will have no use for our house or too many things in it. That’s just reality. 

I came across a 1,600 year old quote by John Chrysostom that paints the picture well- “We are only temporary guests on earth. We recognize that the houses in which we live serve only as hostels on the road to eternal life. We do not seek peace or security from the material walls around us or the roof above our heads. Rather, we want to surround ourselves with a wall of divine grace; and we look upward to heaven as our roof.” 

Days like Monday remind us that this is a fallen, broken-down world. Not just remind us- they smack us right in the face with that reality. The audacity of evil is staggering. The growing appetite of wickedness to plant its flag on higher and more brazen summits is revolting. The arrogant smirk of depravity is chilling. As Christians, we are not at home here. Thank God. We’re not at home here, where innocent, little children are murdered in their classroom. The Bible says we don’t belong here- we’re “citizens of heaven.” We’re checked into this hotel, but we’re not staying long. The only things that will last past our eulogies are the treasures we store up in that permanent place where we’re headed. The rest of it’s on borrowed time. While we’re here, let’s make wise investments with our lives and the resources God has trusted to us. We all have a purpose. A difference we can make for God’s kingdom. 

“Do not let your heart be troubled; believe in God, believe also in Me. In My Father’s house are many rooms; if that were not so, I would have told you, because I am going there to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I am coming again and will take you to Myself, so that where I am, there you also will be.” John 14:1-6

Night, 

JONI 

Have there been times in your life when you wished you could wear a sign around your neck to explain something about yourself or your current situation? Maybe you thought it would save a lot of questions or speculation about something that’s going on at the time. I’ve had plenty of those and could even use some signs right about now. For instance, currently, we could use one in our yard. Maybe one of those big flashing ones with the arrow. “Yes, we dug up our landscaping and we are fully aware that it looks awful. Waiting on landscaper consult.” This would explain that this is not a permanent minimalist look we’re implementing and would quell any neighborly concerns. I’d also like to have a sign to wear when I’m out walking Otis, “Yes, I know- you’ve seen me outside more in the last month than in the entire 19 years I’ve lived here. Fostering feral dog from Wal-mart. Call 911 if it appears warranted.” That way, all the neighbors, who drive past us on their way to work, could read it as I sail by like a Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade ballon on the end of Otis’s leash. It would explain the situation and answer any questions anyone might have about my sudden oneness with the outdoors and from whence this untamed hound came. 

I could’ve benefited from some signage that time I knocked over a maxi pad display with my shopping cart. “Please, just keep moving and pretend you don’t see me over here re-stacking this pallet of feminine products.” A few years ago, I would’ve liked a sign to explain a fresh, raised scar in the middle of my neck. “Neck surgery, not a throat slashing.” I’ve wished for Davis to have a few signs- “Joni wasn’t home when I got dressed. I put this shirt with these pants myself.” Yesterday, I could’ve used one on the back of my car as I was taking Ruby to the vet. “There’s a nervous dog standing on my center console, which is why I’m making turns like a 97 year old who can’t see over the steering wheel.” And I (and anyone else who drives a newer vehicle) could definitely benefit from an illuminated sign permanently strapped to the top of my car. “My lights ARE on dim.” 

Other helpful signs include but are not limited to: 

“I know, I know. I have a hair appointment next Tuesday!”

“No, I’m not crying. It’s allergy season.” 

“This is just the primer.”

“I’m normally a more patient person, but I’m menopausal.” 

“I’m buying these Depends for someone else.”

Those are all silly signs, I know, but I’ve had days when my sign would’ve relayed a much more serious message and I know you’ve had those, too.

“My daddy is dying with cancer. I may be smiling, but my heart is completely broken.” 

“I miscarried and I’m still mourning on the inside.” 

“Waiting on test results. Sorry if I seem distracted.” 

I remember when I struggled with postpartum depression issues after one of my babies. It may have been one of the darkest times I’ve ever had. I’d never experienced anything like that before or, thankfully, since. I didn’t want to go anywhere but there was a party that I felt obligated to attend. A party- that was the last place I wanted to be. I was on the verge of tears when Davis and I drove up, but I took a deep breath and got out of the car with my heart pounding in my chest. It had taken everything I had just to get dressed and look party-appropriate. I went in and smiled and laughed and tried to do all the normal things, but I was really just wanting to get out of there as quickly as possible and get back to a place where I didn’t have to pretend. If I’d had a sign that night, it might have said, “I’m a mess. I haven’t slept in weeks, my hands are trembling, and it’s taking every bit of energy I have just to hold myself together.” 

I know a lot of people who are going through some tough things right now. Really tough things. Everyday, we pass people and, if we knew what their sign would say, it would likely break our hearts. Most of the time, we smile and carry on like everything is fine. We’re really good at pretending. Maybe social media has made us that way. Maybe we were always taught that a lady keeps her business to herself and doesn’t air her problems. But, sometimes, the words that bring the most relief are “me, too” spoken by a close confidant. Or “I prayed for you, this morning” from a trusted friend. Or just ordinary kindness from a stranger who knows nothing about our situation. 

Since sign wearing isn’t really a thing, maybe it’s safest to take what Ian Maclaren wisely wrote to heart, “Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.” May we, especially as Christians, never be the reason someone’s bad day gets worse. May we never speak words that break someone’s spirit. May our words never cause someone to go backwards in their struggle. May we use words that draw people toward life and hope in Christ because everyone is or will be or has just come from a difficult place. Life is hard. It really is. We rarely talk about it and we don’t carry signs. So may we treat everyone the way we’d want to be treated on our very worst day. Just in case it happens to be theirs. 

“Gracious words are a honeycomb, sweet to the soul and healing to the bones.” Proverbs 16:24

“God is our merciful Father and the source of all comfort. He comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort others. When they are troubled, we will be able to give them the same comfort God has given us.” 2 Corinthians 1:3-4

Happy Weekend, friends!

JONI 

When I was a little girl, my mother would get me involved in some of her holiday and special occasion preparations- especially in the kitchen. As you know, I grew up between two boys in a neighborhood full of boys and I’m certain she wanted to make sure I was adequately trained in more than just the rules of whiffle ball, the fine art of fishing with night crawlers, and the delicate skill of releasing a firecracker before explosion. All very important in their own right, though.