The kingdom of God is like a toll road...

Sara moved into this home just over two years ago. I remember filling up the vehicles several times and driving around the capital to bring the stuff up to our new apartment. There was a slight change to the drive's routine the first time I borrowed the Smiths' Caravan to drive it on such a trip. I followed my usual process of getting off the Beltway, and heading to the toll plaza toward Dulles, as my turn came up, I rolled down the window and reached out with a one dollar bill in my hand (ah, the good ol' days when that was enough to pass the toll…). But instead of taking it, the nice lady kept her hands to herself and said something about EZpass. That's when I first noticed the white box next to the mirror in front of my head! My toll fare had already been paid. So I pulled my Washington back in and kept moving.

I was recently thinking about this event, and it made me think of our salvation through Christ. Yes, the way to Heaven requires payment of a "toll" - namely the cost resulting from all our sins. 

Trying to work our way to salvation would be like getting to the toll booth, and then digging under the car seats and looking in all the nooks and crannies for loose change trying to amass enough coins to pay our own way. Yet no matter how hard we try, the cost is so much higher than what we could come up with. There's no way we can cover the cost ourselves. And similarly to how the Smiths had paid my toll by virtue of their EZpass being charged and in the windshield, so has God already paid our way into His presence, which we gain access to with Christ in our lives.

And as I felt silly when this happened and I had the funds to easily pay my way onto the Dulles Toll Road, try to imagine how ridiculous we would look if we sweated and fretted working hard to make our way forward when our Lord has already filled the proverbial EZpass at his own cost! Allowing us fly through without stopping so we can be on your way, getting closer and closer to the destination.

I know, the analogy does break down in some respects. But I kinda like it.

Gratefulness

Today there was a shooting in a nearby neighborhood. Family - no worries for our safety - it appears to be domestic/gang related and there is no threat to the community, although they are still looking for those who shot the man.

Jon and I had briefly looked at apartments in that community, however no one was in the office at the time so we passed it by. We walk through the neighborhood on the way to the park and I see loads of kids getting into the bus from that neighborhood nearly every day.

It's sobering to both realize how close violence can be and at the same time how far away it is 99.9% of the time. Once I heard I called Jon immediately, to hear his voice and know he's okay, and also grateful that the chance of him being killed outside our home is nigh near impossible.

I'm grateful tonight to know we sleep every night to the sound of our fan blowing and cars driving by, never gun shots or screams. That I can walk out to my car safely and soundly, that we lock our doors more out of habit than actual need, and that the policemen are only a phone call away. Our country has an amazing infrastructure, and I'm grateful for that.

Tonight we'll be praying for families and the policemen who will certainly still be busy once we go asleep.

Humor

So, if you knew Ticky Tacky, you knew a man who could laugh. Laugh at himself, laugh at others, while not laughing at the expense of others. When we saw him last, a few weeks before he died, he was still laughing and making jokes. I heard he was smiling at the laughter around him even days before he passed.

When we'd visit, he'd often have a new show we could watch - and it was quite the ordeal when they discovered British Comedies. My oh my, I remember when they found "Keeping Up Appearances" we watched so many episodes, and he'd laugh and laugh. Then we'd troll through old comedies, and I remember clearly introducing them to YouTube and revisiting the old comedy shows back in the day. They were funny then, and they are still funny now!

When we visited him in the hospital once awhile ago, he was cracking jokes left and right. I can't remember a single one, but I do remember thinking how interesting that he would be making people laugh in the hospital. Joking about himself, doctors, and whatever. It always cracked us up, and we always knew it would be special.

I wish there was a way to capture it all - the way he'd grin, land a joke we weren't expecting, or hear a new joke for the first time and burst out in laughter. But there simply isn't a way to write about the experience of humor effectively enough so that your reader experiences it.

So I'll have to make a recommendation. If you want to experience a small taste of Ticky Tacky's laughter and joy, get to know my dad. Or my brother. Or my sister. Or several of my aunt, uncles, and cousins, and maybe even their kids. And even those who married into the family, like my mom, Jess, Jon, and all the other "in-loves" [what we call in-laws!]. Many of them whom are deeply gifted with filling up a room with delight, and all of us delighting themselves in the laughter of others and filling the room with our laughter as well. Listen to their laughter, and you'll hear Ticky Tacky's laughter too.

Thank you Ancient Ireland

Last weekend, we finished the book How the Irish Saved Civilization by Thomas Cahill, which we had been reading to each other while on the road. 2 out of 2 Restonians enjoyed and recommend it.

In brief, it talks about how the Roman Empire crumbled (for a lot of reasons, including the fact that it was no longer in touch with its real position in the world and its society had become complacent), and one man named Patrick felt called to evangelize the wild hordes that populated the island of Ireland at the time (one of the first missionaries we have records for who went outside the "civilized" Romanized world), bringing along literacy as well. He thus transformed the local culture, starting a long-term fascination for both Christianity and copying literature from the continent, without which Latin culture would most likely have disappeared, along with large portions of Greek culture and some Hebrew culture too. And this people's love of their new religion spread like wildfire and brought many people to leave their beloved homeland and re-evangelize lots of Europe, and even humbly reach out and care for the needy when the established church, who had risen in power in the security of the last centuries of the Roman Empire, preferred staying close to political power rather than meet people's needs.

It's a fascinating story!

In the conclusion, the author made the point, which has been sticking in my head, that ultimately history is not changed by those who represent power on the world's terms, by the big names of each age. History is rather shaped stealthily by nobodies in remote corners of the world who die to themselves and live out what absolute love looks like to those who are least loved by the world. To quote the end of the book, "if we are to be saved, it will not be by [the rich and powerful] but by saints."

That gives me great hope.

Oh no! I'm one of THOSE people!!

You remember when you were a kid, and there were people (normally friends of your parents or relatives you didn't get to see that often) who would see you and then not see you for some time, and then when they'd see you again, they'd go on and on about how big you've become, how much you've grown, and on and on? And you're thinking "Well, duh, I'm a growing boy. Seriously, what were you expecting, that I'd look like an 8 year old for the rest of my life?" Remember those silly people?

At age 26, I've become one of them.

The Kepley family was a blessing to Calvin's Mu Kappa chapter. They always opened their home to us for meals, retreats and a variety of other activities. Especially us leaders spent a lot of time getting to know them. After I graduated, I stayed somewhat involved with Mu Kappa and also got into a mentorship relationship with Mr. Kepley. Thus, from 2002 to 2008, I got to know the Kepleys, including their daughters, VERY well. By the time I left Grand Rapids, those two fun, sweet, little girls who always had fun with all the college MK's who kept coming to their home, were (I think) 11 and 9. And that was the last time I saw them for over three years.

On the way back from Charlevoix on Friday, we stopped in Grand Rapids to have lunch with the Kepleys. They were excited to meet this girl I met in Maryland and eventually married. But I just couldn't imagine what Rachael and Emilee would look like as teen and preteen. They'd always been little girls! So when we got to that familiar house of so many fun memories, I was shocked to be greeted by two smiling, big girls. They're starting to become women!

I believe part of that has to do with the nomadic lifestyle I've led. I've never spent more than 4 years in a row in the same home. Life moves on, and families move to different horizons (especially ours, maybe), and with time contacts get lost. My longest friendships I still maintain somewhat frequent contact for date back to college, and all those people are around my age, so our lives have been developing in similar stages. I'm not used to having people know me for most of their lives.

So it suddenly struck me as weird that, when I got up to get seconds and Sara commented, "He eats a lot," the 14 year old replied with a smile, "Yeah, we know him." Obviously, I've been in this teenager's life pretty much as long as she can remember! How odd!

But that's a good kind of weird. Familiarity with good friends is nice.

Ode to Cally

While exciting pictures and news from our trip will be posted shortly, today I think I personally need to blog about our dear old dog, Cally "Tabitha Smith." She has been slowly declining for nearly the past 3 years, and in fact in two months she would have been 16 years old, quite old for a mid-sized dog.

However as she has lost control of her bladder for the past few weeks (or months) and today began to decline very fast, our mother made the brave decision to have her put down before she suffered any more. I think it was the wisest decision mom could have possibly made, and I am very proud of her.

I'll miss Cally, perhaps not exactly as she was - a very old dog who could barely walk, see, or wag her tail- but for who she was in our lives over the past 16 years.

When Cally came into our lives, she was a spunky rebellious dog, and we logged many hours chasing her around the neighborhood. She eventually calmed down, and became an obedient, cleaver, trusting dog, who always seemed to be around when the family gathered, going from person to person to get petted or to convince them to throw the ball. She was at home as I completed 3 college degrees, always glad to see me when I would return from who-knows-where, and ever ready to go outside!

When I came home after the second degree, confused and unsure where to go in life, she was there with the dog-like nonjudgmental spirit (well, unless you weren't playing ball with her on her schedule...). After the other siblings left, she was the one who slept by my bedside during those lonely mid-twenty single years, who was sad to see me leave in the morning (if she herself was awake...), and always glad when I returned. During that overwhelmingly self-absorbed time of life, with academia and work, I needed to take care of something other than myself, and Cally helped fill that void in my life for nearly 3 years. It felt good to know I needed to be home to make sure she was walked and fed, and emotionally I needed that type of responsibility.

She taught me how to relax, to just enjoy being around others. She forced me outdoors when I'd be more inclined to stay inside. I learned basic discipline and confidence from our walks around the neighborhood, and even got to know our neighbors better because of them.  She was a good pet-buddy.

She of course was around when Jon and I started dating! I'll always remember during one of our first long conversations in the kitchen, we heard a steady banging at her food bowl, and then looked down to see she had dragged it with her paw from the kitchen island to the table! Clearly it was time to eat, and she made that perfectly clear to us. She was oh-so-smart at times.

I witnessesed some of Jon's first "disciplining" skills with getting the dog in the house - forceful and kind - because as nice as Cally was, she was indeed selective at times with what she "heard" in her old age.

We'd walk Cally a little during our talks, and sometimes she'd sneak on the porch when we were swinging. It was nice to have her around at such a fun time in my life. Then in October Jon swept me away into the next phase of my life, which has been filled joy and gladness I had not yet known, and I finally had someone to take care of, converse with, and truly know.

These past few months I've seen Cally when we've gone home, noticing how age was beginning to leave its unmistakable mark. She always was delighted to see us, however her ability to even hear when we came in, let alone greet us, has declined, as well as her energy for her typical enthusiastic greetings. By this weekend, we knew the end was near. I said good-bye to her Sunday night, noting that her spirit was still loving and so glad to see me, while also seeing her body could no longer support her enthusiasm. Gone were the days of grabbing a ball or the pull toy, or even rolling over for a tummy rub. She gladly accepted scratches on the ears, but I think even after standing she was getting tired. I knew in my heart it was time.

I'm glad she is at rest. I'm unsure whether animals go to heaven, however I think all that they embody to us - the unconditional love, acceptance, friendship, comfort, laughter, enthusiasm, appreciation of the outdoors, and personality - is certainly a reflection of our Father towards us. Creation is a reflection of God's glory and, in some small way, I think Cally reflected that at times. I think when we arrive at our Lord's side, the joy we have found in the presence of his created animals will be there in a small way (if there is such a thing as "small" at God's side...).

And I think the pain I feel now is also part of God's design somehow; to take and love another being who cannot love you the same way in return, and to somehow be okay with that. I'm very grateful for her faithful pet presence in my life.