Rolling Down the Road

If you have a Mother-in-Law who has lived all of her 80 years in New York City; and you take her in a little drive just one hour outside of Minneapolis, you should be sure that she's sitting on the right side so that she can look out the window as the countryside rolls by. Then she can unlock the mysteries of the scenery that she totally absorbs, as though she's Agatha Christie on a long luxurious train ride.

You might hear a mother and son conversation like this.

Mom Speirs: "Look at the way some of the land is flat. It's so interesting."

Bob: Mom, that's a hayfield.

Mom Speirs: "Now, what would you call those things?"

Bob: Bales of hay.

Mom Speirs: "Do you notice how some of the grass has frayed edges?"

Bob: Those are weeds, Mom.

Mom Speirs: "Ooooooh! Look at all those cows!!"

Bob: Mom, you're giving yourself away.

You might hear your Mother-in-Law reminisce about the trip she took through the mountains years ago. And about the car ride through rural Illinois to visit relatives. Then she'll compute the time change to Egypt as she plans when best to call her daughters, who visit their in-laws. Later, she'll set her alarm for 5:00 a.m.

And you feel once again the brunt of how isolated you have been this whole past year. You realize that your mother-in-law has been with you for so many months and you've barely taken her out of the apartment. Today, everyone is well. Everyone can go out. Got two available drivers. No need to go to any hospital or clinic. And it is wonderful to see God's green earth, the blue of the sky, and to be all squished together in a car. To feel the freedom of movement and exploration. Shoulder to shoulder with Aidan and his little figurine-guys in the back seat. Bob driving. Not me. Amanda in the front seat, tall enough for the air bag. Avoiding the endless car fighting when brother and sis sit next to eachother.

Mom Speirs looks out the window as though peace prevails around the world. As though she's about to be served a grand meal in the dinner coach of the Orient Express. As though her son is about to be ordained.

"I wonder what Des Moines looks like," she says.

Rolling, rolling, rolling. . .moving forward.

Thanks for coming over to the liver blog, friends.

With love, T

Sprinkle Sunshine on Each Other

A house with a swimming pool and a diving board.

That was Aidan's only criteria for what kind of house we should get. I assured him that we will never, Ever, NEVER get a swimming pool with a diving board. Liability. Lawsuits. Insurance. Drowning. Cost. Chemicals. Cancer. Climate change. Crocodiles. Wrinkles. Upkeep. Hassle. Mama panda's phobia that her babies will die in water. Let me count the reasons we will never get a house with a swimming pool and a diving board.

Unless it happens to be connected to Mama Panda's perfect country kitchen. And Papa Panda's green acre. Then we'll get the pool, diving board, and a water slide. Yes, friends, it's true. I'm now ready to tell you that it looks like we're getting a house with a big 'ol in ground pool. The deal is still in the works, so it ain't over 'til it's over. But so far, so good.

Bob scored a couple more cool points with Amanda when he told her that he personally knows "Agape" the local hip hop hero, who evidently performed at Camp WAPO last week. It was a rainy week, so instead of canoeing and hiking, they did Christian hip hop with Agape. Bob knows him from working with kids on the North side of Minneapolis. You know, all those kids with BMW rib cages. Smooth and steady and amazing; INCREDIBLE abilities to move parts of their body that normal human beings cannot move.

So there's an Agape song called "Sprinkle Sunshine" that is kind of a mover. Amanda likes it. I do too. A year ago I would have thought it way too sugary sweet. Not today. Today I'm all for sprinkling sunshine on each other and then singing about it. Plus, Agape's back up singers are darn good. Come to think of it, my Becky-at-work likes hip hop. I'll have to get her an Agape CD.

Speaking of sprinkling sunshine, try this one on. Today is Patrick's ordination. Amanda and I took Mom Speirs to the salon to prepare. She's as excited as anyone. While the Patterson family has moved out. Pastor Sekenwa's family have moved in; all the way from Nigeria. As many internationals do, Sekenwa has studied here alone for 2 years or so. He has a child that he hadn't even met yet until this past week. He's been preparing for months as his family maneuvered all that complicated visa paperwork to get here. And they are HERE! Sekenwa is smiling ear to ear. I know it will make the Patterson's so happy to hear about the family who moved into their apartment. (pronounced: Sa KEN wa) The ghosts of all of us kind of stick around.

And in a month we'll move out of our apartment. And into the house with a pool, diving board, water slide, and the perfect kitchen. And another family will move in.

Go ahead, it's OK. Sprinkle sunshine on each other.

With love, T

Time to go home

Last night Amanda called out for her mama. I thought I heard her, anyway. Woke me up. It must be time to go home. It's my last night in Baltimore. Her last night at camp WAPO. I'm so tired. But things are so great here. And I just realized that I can introduce you to some of my colleagues with this new LWR teaser. The complete video will be done by the end of the year. What you don't see are the amazing colleagues who also happen to be video producers.

Enjoy! Goodnight! With love, T

I'm healed.

Hello friends and thank you for coming over to the liver blog. I'm pleased to inform you that today is the first day in a month that I have not taken a nap. And my appetite has turned from oatmeal to carnivore, topping off a day at the LWR HQ with a big 'ol cheeseburger. That's right, a day at the office healed me. Thanks everyone. Seriously.

Over my cheeseburger, I was thinking about this house deal that Bob and I are working through. The crazy perfect house. Our two tickets to paradise. The homestead in Iowa. Little house on the prairie. Where the ultimate city boy found the big sky. If this deal actually goes through I'm going to have a sign made and put it up on the front door. It will say something like this:

WELCOME TO THE LIVER HOUSE
~ a retreat for the lost and found ~

Kind of like the transplant house that we never had to go to; rather a place for both original and new organs and outlooks; and their owners alike. Room for long and short term vital signs and the bodies they inhabit.

In the meantime, I've been planning a long lost Sweet 16 Party for my niece and God daughter, Danielle. And you know what, tonight she called and said she just wanted to spend a day with good 'ol Auntie Terri for her Sweet 16. Are you sure, I asked? I'm sure, she said. See what I mean? Can't get through even one single day without getting all teary eyed.

I would also like to invite you to join me in continued prayer vigil for our dear neighbors, Kristy and Steve Broers. Please pray for conversion, wisdom, and positive action for the people who block their transition into a call to parish ministry. Please pray that an advocate would come forward and speak up on their behalf. Please pray that they would have some kind of a hearing. Please pray that this whole tragic mishandling could get cleared up.

Lastly, I've decided to continue in my string of Dave Matthews pieces, tonight's being a short one of skatting. Why skatting? It's either wierd or brilliant, I'm not sure. But I can you this -- it reminds me of how my son, Aidan, communicates. In his own little non-language of expressive something. Body twicks, facial mannerisms, short hair preference and all. This is not quite two minutes excerpted from a song called Jimmy Thing. Enjoy! Enjoy? Well, whatever you want to call it. I like it! ;-)



With love, T

All Over the Map Tonight

Hello everyone and thank you for coming over to the liver blog. A thousand thanks for your words of well wishes for Bob's call. I can't tell you how joyful it has been already to be with the people of St. Johns in Des Moines.

When Bob returned from Des Moines last night Mom Speirs said, "You have returned home transformed into a pastor." That's right. He's been called by a parish, he's officially a pastor. The ordination is all the hoopla that stamps it official. But it's the work of the people that makes someone a pastor. The people of St. Johns in Des Moines have transformed Bob into a pastor. Well, actually, a lot of you had a lot to do with that too. Many, many, many of you. And I personally think it's a beautiful thing, how so many people from so many places and congregations can work together for good. It honestly took of all you to make this transformation happen.

So now we are living in fast speed. Accept call. Crunch numbers. Buy house. Breath after signing mortgage papers. Enroll the kids in school. Pack it all up. Move. New jobs. New everything. Got a couple of Sweet 16's to take care of too, almost a year late, but dog gone it's gonna happen. And oh yes, an ordination.

The long and short of the ordination -- I would say to think early October, Trinity Lutheran Church, Brooklyn, New York. There are still many things to coordinate in terms of even determining an exact date, but that's coming soon hopefully. Because of course we want you all to come. Pastor Bob Nervig, Bob's mentor, is already thinking through the art. Don't you love that!

Today I start my check in week at LWR HQ in Baltimore. Got here in time to hear first hand about responding to the earthquake in Peru, growing better onions in West Africa, and safely maneuvering check points in Sri Lanka. Also chatted with colleague #3 who is dealing with mysterious all-consuming illness of spouse, and how LWR has backed us up all the way, from a personnel standpoint. I tell you, you just can't believe the group of people here and the work they do. Doesn't do much for my quest to make it through just one day without choking up.

Anywho, when I get melancholy, I turn to my poet laureate, Dave Matthews, so here's another terrific tune; kind of a jazzy little number all full of angst, with a touch of the African howly thingie that he can do with his voice. It's simply called #41. I have no idea of the lyrics. Just like the moodiness of it. And the joyful face of an artist at work. It's long, so you can do the dishes or yoga or something while you enjoy.




With love, T

P.S. I think it's also time to turn to Captain Underpants because I am getting way too serious and pensive. A review of the new book coming soon.

All You Need is Love Everyday

Love this song. Love this band. Love this video. Made me smile.



Enjoy! About 4-5 minutes or so. C'mon, stop and smell the roses.

With love, T

The Congregational Vote

To be real honest, I'm nervous about all of this stuff about Bob being someone's associate pastor. I mean, he's been home for years. Years. Home as a stay-at-home dad while I worked. Home as a seminary student who preferred to study at home. Home as in a coma in the living room. And during the time he was sick, well, this is the weird thing, the part that was so special about that is that we were together, almost 24-7. Home together.

And that is about to all change.

I will miss Bob at home. I mean, it's not like we didn't have our times when we wish we had never met each other. Our marital tension can get as good as it gets, yet. . .

So, be careful what you wish for, right?

OK, alright, my office will be in the same building as his, but you know what I mean.

That's probably it, change. Like when you have a baby, and it's so glorious, yet everything around you has changed and so you grieve your life as you knew it. You might even not want your baby at first. Some women never get over that. Postpartum depression is nothing to poo poo. It's the seismic shift in dynamics that brings the grief.

On this Sunday morning, I would like to ask for your prayers for another family who is waiting, waiting, waiting for the call. Please pray for Steve and Kristi Broers. Pray for the conversion of those who tightly hold the keys to the lives of this whole family, including small children. Pray for understanding and wisdom and positive action. What is happening to them is an abuse of power and there seems to be no recourse. Where is their advocate?

Bob and I just talked on the phone. It's official. The congregation of St. Johns Lutheran Church in Des Moines has voted almost unanimously to call him as their associate pastor.

With love, T