New Year Looming

All's quiet on this western front with the boys wandering Joshua Tree. I enjoyed our Christmas visit but, as always, found myself philosophizing, "Why once a year?" Ah, the complexities of life.

Looking at the glass half full, the jolt of our little annual gathering accentuates time travel, reminds me to value of each moment. This year, the snap shot that stands out is of Will reading the Santa Letter to our collective—three children, two teenagers, and one young adult—my mind sorting through two decades of similar snap shots, all the while David Byrne echoing, "Well, how did we get here?"

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I1wg1DNHbNU&feature=related

I watch Hannah and Cloe venture into the realm of tradition, birth of a family sub-culture. I smiled at year two of Christmas shopping leaving our generation behind to catch up on some much needed slumber. And the fact that Taylor was invited into the fold was heartening. I imagine Liam tagging along next year, Søren and Avery in the queue. I am thankful watching this exceptional group of young people who enjoy each other, thankful for the effort that we as parents have invested challenging our children to value individuality. I pray that they will continue to stretch the shrinking boundaries of "family" imposed by our culture.

And in the midst of all of this is that bittersweet thing that I can never quite put my finger on, that melancholy that is part of growing up, part of growing old, the topic of conversations scattered between presents and prime rib.

This year, Hannah's favorite gift was a toy. Woody. I savored the seconds it took her to tear through the Disney Princess Christmas paper, waiting for eye contact. In our family it's all about the eyes. I've settled the snap shot in memory, a vivid moment, a grown up moment. I found it interesting that this moment brought to mind moments gathered with you a day earlier.

I am often contemplating "church" and I am not alone, much of our conversation through the years has swirled around this topic. Don't we all scurry, toil, for church? Don't we, each of us journey to God on our own two feet? If I'm honest, my journey began a tentative, tumultuous searching for meaning to one very specific question: "If Christianity is being redeemed, is being adopted into God's family, what is family?"

Revelations brings an eternal perspective, Colossians reminds me I have peace with God. Galatians reminds me that, in Christ, I have the full rights of inheritance. Corinthians reminds me that I am sealed with God's Holy Spirit. I know I am forgiven, holy in Christ, adopted, embraced. But what does that mean in the here and now? What is family?

When Avery opened Buzz, I saw a theme arising, chuckled knowing that his companion Woody was tucked in a corner beneath my tree a few miles away. What is family?

At the end of our Christmas visit, a few moments before we would be packing up the car, as we began to store snap shots in the archives of our mind, Brian sparked a moment's discussion of Toy Story 3 which prompted me to chatter, "I wrote about that... I'll send you the link."

As another year winds down, I am reminded of my response to Sandy's painting, my strong desire to step back from the picture, to view the larger scene. I begged God for an answer in that moment, think this morning, struggling to get my thoughts on paper to share with you all, I might be experiencing a reply. What is family?

Who knew that Sandy and Will giving Avery Buzz Lightyear scattered conversations with Tracey trying to make sense of children growing up and Brian's well timed comment about Toy Story 3 would remind me of the criticism that plagued the writers of LOST. Here are men that were slammed for never providing enough answers and when they did they were criticized for not providing "right" enough answers. Fact is, the many mysteries that they provided often frustrated viewers who wanted pat answers. Sound familiar? The scowling always reminded me of the age old criticism of our Creator. But in this instant I am seeing clearly that the writers of LOST, those fly-by-the-seat-of-their-pants-follow-a-lead-creators began to shape for me an image of Christian family that I can comprehend, that I can wrap my heart around. The characters in LOST were not born into family, they were scripted to family.

I am grateful to be cast in a scene or two with each of you. Here's to another year, camera's anticipating snap shots to come.