Tag: David Johansen (Page 2 of 2)

Holy Drones

September 14, 2015 /

One of my closest friends who, like me, is sure she would make a great CIA operative, is paranoid about drones. She is suspicious that foreign governments are spying on her. So for her birthday last week John and I decided to have a little fun.

We have a friend who just happens to have a drone and lives two blocks away from the birthday girl.  So we deployed the drone while our friends were outside playing a birthday game of basketball (you know…like you do when you’re a 56 year old woman…).IMG_1532

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Anyway, this is a long way around to saying, it got me to thinking about all the holy “drones” that we’re oblivious to. Not drones in a sneaky spyish way, but the unseen forces of God that fight for us.

I was reminded of this too back in July.

One day, as my brother David was in the hospital hovering between life and Life, our friend, Lee, who was miraculously healed of Pancreatic cancer, sat by David’s bedside alone.

Afterwards, Lee journaled about her experience and graciously shared the thoughts she had written about her time with David. Continue reading

When You Pray and it Doesn’t “Work”

August 31, 2015 /

For 6 months I got used to waking in the middle of the night, prompted to pray for my brother, who was fighting cancer. I prayed with many others for healing. I prayed specifically, passionately and with complete faith in God’s power.

He died July 18th.

You’ve had a similar experience? Yeah, I thought so.

These days I can get downright snippy with God. Now I wake in the night, or my mind turns to Him through the day and I sometimes think, “Why bother? Why talk to God about the lesser things when He did not seem to care enough to fix this great big thing?”IMG_1403

Of course I know some of the “right” theological answers to this question.

Yes, David was ultimately healed and is alive and whole and free of pain with Jesus.

Yes, we live in a broken world and illness and death are a consequence of the fall…God is sovereign…Our minds are too small to grasp His grander plans…He will cause ALL things to work together for good to those who love Him…He is more concerned about our character than our comfort… Blah blah blah…

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Sometimes when you FEEL in the “depths of despair” as Anne of Green Gables would say, you don’t care about the words.

But I keep praying. I keep talking to God and I’ll tell you why.

I keep praying for the same reason a child keeps talking to her parents after she hasn’t gotten her way.

There’s something deep inside me that still knows that God loves me and I am drawn to Him.

There is something in me that knows there is something bigger going on.

Prayer doesn’t “work” in the way we’d like it to. It doesn’t “work” as in we pray to get what we want. We pray to get what God wants.

I think we make the mistake of seeing prayer as transactional, when it’s primarily relational.

I still don’t know what to do with those verses that exhort us to ask and receive, be the widow badgering the judge, have faith to move mountains, but I can get on-board with this thought from Tim Keller.

We can be sure our prayers are answered precisely in the way we would want them to be answered if we knew everything God knows. Tim Keller

Prayer makes more sense to me when I envision myself in a boat tethered to the shore (God) and prayer is the process by which I pull myself to it/Him – pull my will in line with His.

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Still, I often feel tossed around by the huge waves of confusion. I squint to even see the shore, desperately trying to hold on to the rope that tethers me to to Truth. I have been reading Philip Yancey’s book on prayer and find I’m in good company.

“The only final solution to unanswered prayer is Paul’s explanation to the Corinthians: ‘For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.’ No human being, no matter how wise or how spiritual, can interpret the ways of God, explaining why one miracle and not another, why an apparent intervention here and not there. Along with the apostle Paul, we can only wait, and trust.” Philip Yancey

What has your experience been with understanding prayer?

Linking up today at…

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Soul Food for Those Who are Grieving

August 28, 2015 /

I wrote last week that one of my deepest desires for this space is that it would delight and refresh your soul. I want there to be laughter and fun and creativity mixed in with some of the more intense stuff of life. My hope is that “Soul Food” posts will provide some ideas and resources that you’ll look forward to like a kid looks forward to a day at the State Fair.

Recently I read a great business article  that brought to mind all the creative ways that people ministered to us around my brother’s death.

I’ve written about relational and practical stuff, and we have treasured every note that was written to us, but this is different.

Today I want to share some of the creative ways people used their spiritual gifts, talents, and resources to minister to us in the hopes it may inspire us as we minister to others.

  • In the midst of the emotional roller coaster ride with David towards eternal life, we had friends who one day said, “Are you free for dinner? Come out on our boat with us and let us care for you and you just breathe.”

They gave us hugs and listening ears and dinner and beauty. We cruised on Lake Minnetonka and ate and talked and relaxed, and it was a gift.

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  • One day I received an email from a friend who lives in Australia. She is a talented photographer and gardener. Her note said “Come, let’s take a virtual walk in my garden together and soak up God’s goodness.” She attached a power point with photos and thoughts as if we were walking through her garden together! You can take a look at part of it here: Winter pruned 1
  • Two friends made CD’s – mixes of songs they felt would be comforting during this hard season. For Susan and David there were many trips to and from the hospital in Chicago when these provided a strengthening sound track. This song, Nearness, on one of the CD’s was sung at David’s memorial service. If you’re having a hard day, this is for you.

There were also really meaningful gifts after David died in addition to people who blew us away by contributing in his honor. We were surprised by how moving these gifts were.

  • Like I said, there have been many kind gifts, but I want to mention one – a family sent us a delightful memorial wind chime with a quote on it. It is a beautiful, meaningful reminder whenever the wind blows.
  • While I was still in Chicago with family, a friend dropped off 5 dinners to our home in Minneapolis that she had made and frozen for us. Yes, of course I have time to make dinner (I don’t have kids at home and it wasn’t my husband that died), but what I’ve discovered is how exhausted you are after a crisis, or in a season of grief and how nice it is NOT TO HAVE TO THINK about dinner.
  • My small group, who had been part of an indefatigable prayer team for David, created one of the most meaningful gifts. They wrote verses that we had clung to during David’s cancer and notes of encouragement on a hurricane with a candle. We’ve talked often about how God’s light shines through the broken places in our lives and the gold lines represent those places of healing.

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  • I was moved to tears when I opened a card the other day and a friend in MN had laminated the newspaper obituary of my brother (which I helped write, but had not seen). She said she thought I might want to keep it in my Bible.

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All of these gifts were creative, thoughtful and personal. They communicated care and a desire to remember with us someone we loved.

Are there some additional ways people have ministered to you when you have been grieving?

 

Just Wanted to Know if You Were Awake

July 24, 2015 /

This is not a blog meant to be about me, or my family. It contains a lot of personal stories, but my prayer is that by the end of each post you feel that it’s about all of us and God and His everyday grace. I’ve written a lot lately about my brother’s fight with cancer in the hopes that some will gain encouragement or insight from our experience. I won’t write much more about this, but thought I’d share with you what I said at David’s memorial service. We are so grateful for the love, support, and prayers from family and friends.

Until I was 11 years old and David was 9, Cris 7, we lived in a house on Highland in Glen Ellyn. I had my own room, but David and Cris shared a room next to mine. Every night we would all be put to bed at the same time and after the lights were out, I’d hear the voices of my brothers coming from David and Cris’ room.

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David would say: Hey Cris?

Cris would respond: Yeah?

David would say: Just wanted to know if you were awake.

Then silence for a minute and Cris would say: Hey David?

David would reply: Yeah?

Cris would say: Just wanted to know if you were awake.

This would go back and forth until one of them was too tired and fell asleep.

Today, in one sense David has been the one to fall asleep, but in another he is more awake and alive than he has ever been. 

And this is what he wanted us to know.

The chapter of his life with cancer was filled with pain and prayer and hope and questions, but mostly, the refrain, “God is the Author of my story and He is good. I trust Him no matter what.”

As wonderful as my brother was, he was far from perfect (after all, I told  you before that he pulled out my Mousey Moo’s tail when I was 8, and for that I think he should have to pay), but he was forgiven for that and everything else, and lived a vibrant life seeking to honor God.

He would want me to tell you, that if you don’t know it yet, this same Life can be yours if you just turn to Jesus and say “I’m sorry for the many ways I’ve messed up. Please forgive me and be the Author of my story. I just want to be a supporting character and let you be the Writer.”

You may think, “Why would I want an Author who let such a great supporting character like David die?” and I’m with you. Continue reading

The Questions of Life and Death

July 15, 2015 /

My sister-in-law, Susan is a strong and courageous woman of faith. She read this and asked me to post it in the hopes that it might encourage, comfort, or inspire others. We know that many are walking hard roads with challenges we can’t imagine.

It’s a glorious summer morning as I sit on my brother’s front porch in a wicker rocker. Birds are chattering about new-day things. A bunny is nibbling breakfast in the front yard near the hydrangea and today’s paper waits in the driveway to be picked up. A jogger and a dog-walker pass by.

As a friend says, “This is the Lifiest time of year.”

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People open junk mail, play a set of tennis, watch a friend’s wedding video on Facebook, water gardens, laugh at jokes, cut the lawn.

Inside the house my brother dances back and forth with one foot in heaven and one still on earth.

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This feels surreal. It can’t be happening. Life and death, and life and Life.

Things beginning, things ending. Things growing, things dying.

I stare at the pictures rotating through my screen-saver. Photos of us in foreign countries – with kids thirsty for clean water in Africa, with survivors of a tsunami in Sri Lanka, with Palestinians in a refugee camp longing for home – the World outside our world.

Every day, people trying to choose Life.

This is a week when, in some ways life is on hold and we’re just waiting; day to day, minute to minute.

We’re simultaneously holding our breath and trying to breathe. 

But in other ways everything is so…normal. We do all the regular stuff and wonder, “How? How can we do life while David seems to be moving towards death?”

I wake up off and on throughout the nights and pray, “God help. Hold. Heal.”

We say “Prayer changes things”, but what we really hope is that prayer will just change “THINGS” and not change US.

This time God seems to want to change us – to make us “Lifier” people with an ear to heaven and an eye on eternity. Continue reading

A Letter to My Brother

July 11, 2015 /

Dear Baby David,

I keep thinking of that time a few years ago when we all were gathered at the Lake House for Memorial Day weekend.

It was the same as every year – too many kids and dogs to count. Card games, and tubing, and Dad threading gooey worms on fishing hooks, and sitting at the long harvest table on the porch in soggy swim suits for lunch.

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Memorial Day is notoriously a little early to be swimming in Wisconsin, but still, we launched the boat and plunged into the water as always. We’re a “Choose-life-no-matter-what” kind of family.

It was cool and cloudy and super windy that year, but you kept trying to convince me to go sailing with you on our little Sunfish. “Come on, Laura! It will be great! Me and you!” I can hear you as clear as if you were saying it to me today.

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Finally I relented and we took off, you at the rudder (because I don’t actually know how to sail) and me along for the ride. Aunts and Uncles, grandparents and kids and dogs watched from the shallows as the wind immediately whipped up and started speeding us across the lake.

I’d say it was approximately 10 seconds before I watched helplessly as you fell off the back and I was on my own, speeding away.

I can picture you treading water and laughing so hard, like such a brother.

Everyone on shore was yelling instructions as I got further away from land, and some scrambled to jump in the ski boat and rescue me.

David, I keep thinking of this, because I feel like you’re slipping off the back of the boat again. And I don’t want you to go. I don’t want to sail on without you.

I hate it that cancer is eating away at your strong body. I hate it that you’re suffering. Maybe it’s time to let go of life, in order to embrace Life, but oh it’s so sad to watch you slip away.

We know that God can calm the wind and waves as He has before, but so far He’s chosen not to. So far.

And saying “this is hard” is like saying a heart surgery without anesthesia is hard.

We hurl confused, grieving, tearful words at God in our weakest moments these days, but we trust Him too. We don’t understand, but we choose to continue to believe He is good, because we have had a lifetime of sailing with Him.

You’ve held tight to the rudder, Baby David. You’ve fought the wind and waves courageously, but it’s ok. You can let go now if you want.

When you go I will miss you so much. Words can’t express…But even now I can picture Jesus and Grams and Gramps waiting for you on the other side. You and Gramps will talk trains and Mr. Punnymoon.  And I know you’ll be waiting for me too, with that mischievous grin and twinkle in your eye, ready to go sailing with me again.

I love you,

Your head cheerleader

I’m sharing this publicly with Susan’s permission because I want readers to know what a difference faith in Jesus Christ makes. He is everything.

We are so, so blessed to have a family and heritage of believers to walk through this dark time together. We don’t have pat answers. We aren’t always happy-clappy. We’re impatient, and selfish and quirky just like all families. But we do not grieve as those without hope. (1 Thes. 4:13)

Tuesday night, David was moved home to hospice care. His wife Susan was on the phone with my mom telling her that the oncologist had said David was the most courageous patient he had ever had, with such a positive attitude. David was awake and overheard her. In a moment of semi-lucidity he said, “Oh, but did we remember to tell him it’s just because of Jesus, Susan?”

“Yes, Dave, we did. We did.” she said.

Breathe deep.Lean hard.God's love holds.

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Leaving Baggage Behind

June 15, 2015 /

My younger brother, David, is an amazing man of faith, humor, kindness, and courage.  Many of you know he has been on a grueling road trip.   As I write this, David has been admitted to M.D. Anderson in Houston. His road is one of ups and downs, medication, and fatigue. Recently, through the haze of pain, he bravely tried to reflect on last week’s post and share some personal thoughts. Here are his words:

Let me first start by saying I love to travel.  Planes, trains and automobiles are my thing.  I’ll bump off the interstate and take a US highway just to roll down the window, smell the alfalfa fields, and look for grain elevators every 6 miles like clockwork.

I know there isn’t much to like about air travel but every time I see the Arrival and Departure signs at an airport my heart skips a beat and I recall the first time I flew as a 12 year old on a Delta Airlines Super DC 8 stretch.

And don’t get me started on trains as there is NOTHING better than a private bedroom with a large picture window and a good book while watching the American west from one of Amtrak’s western long hauls.

They all connote road trips for me and they certainly are a far cry from Abram packing up his tents, livestock and family and putting one foot in front of the other on the way to where?  The Promised Land? With no return ticket?

Monday’s post about Abram, his idols, and his journey struck a chord with me.  You see, I’m on a journey of sorts myself, and like Abram, it’s not one I willingly signed up for.  In January I was diagnosed with stage IV Melanoma cancer.

For those of you who travel a lot, I’m sure you’ve become expert packers.  You know which clothing you can get multiple wears out of. Your carry-on is packed with extra charging chords, toiletries ready in one clear quart plastic bag, and the indispensable People magazine.  You are efficient and have exactly the right amount of “stuff”.

There are those of us, however, who arrive back home only to find six shirts never worn, untouched work out clothes,  and a pair of  Topsider deck shoes and Hawaiian  shirt because “Weren’t we supposed to have a Cruise Night Party?”

Just like Abram, I started my journey with everything I had and yet God wanted me to pare down a few things.  While the word “idol” sounds so ancient, there were things I worshipped that were excess baggage – mainly ego, pride and control. Continue reading

The Five Hardest Words You May Ever Say

May 10, 2015 /

My phone pings and I look at another text update from my sister-in-law.

My brother David, who is two years younger than me, my brother who is strong and fit, my brother who is faithful and kind and always has a great sense of humor, has cancer. Stage 4.

And day and night we, his home team, in the bleachers and on the bench, pray for healing. For relief from unbearable pain and nausea, for strength and courage.

We are a family of Jesus-followers with a long heritage of belief and a sound-track of “Great is Thy Faithfulness”.  We trust in a giant of a God. We know without a shadow of a doubt that our God is powerful and loving and can heal David with both hands tied behind His back (so to speak).

In the past two years one of our closest friends was healed from Pancreatic cancer. Unheard of. A miracle. Another close friend died of Pancreatic cancer. Both were faithful, both trusted the goodness of God and the power of prayer.

So what do we do with that as we walk with David through this fiery furnace? How do we pray with total faith and hope for the kind of healing we want for David while acknowledging that, for whatever crazy reason, it may not be God’s will to show off?

I think the hardest thing we do is to join Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego in being “if not” Christians.  Continue reading

One Word and Clark Griswold

December 13, 2013 /

Back in January, (yep, it’s been a long time) we talked about choosing One Word for 2013 – a word that God might desire to expand in our life…grow us into.

 My word was Fearless, which gave birth to Fearless Fridays, because even if that wasn’t your word, we all deal with Fear in various forms.  

In January I also posted some thoughts from my brother, David, on this.  So the other day I asked him for an update.

I’d love to hear from you too!  What has your experience been with your One Word (if you identified one)?  If you didn’t, looking back now, what is one word that would summarize your 2013?  Post your thoughts in the comment section!

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