What dreams may come – living with fulfillment and delay

Yes, there was that little 32-year delay – but eventually it happened, or will happen very soon.  My wife was up until after 2AM last night writing a paper and preparing a presentation for her last day of class, which is today.  She’s been involved in a two-week intensive class, studying the holocaust.  Each night she’s been reading history and writing about it.  Sometimes we’ve had conversations about it, and at times her content has intersected my world as I’ve been bringing a teaching series on the Sermon on the Mount to completion.  These teachings of Jesus challenge the pretense of religion and the use of “god words” to justify injustice, attitudes which were present in the Germany of the ’30s and led to their eventually collapse under the weight of a mad man.  Barth’s Romans and Bonhoeffer’s Cost of Discipleship are both written to call people back to robust faith, a cry which is needed in our time as well.  But I digress….

The 32-year delay happened because this was the woman I wanted to marry, and so I asked her and she said yes, even though yes meant moving to a different state before graduating.  Then she invested her time in other things, like financing my grad school, giving birth to three amazing children, raising them, functioning as principal and head teacher as she home-schooled them.  When we moved to the city, she continued by working in Seattle as a means of funding their education all the way through the completion of their college careers, while being a pastor’s wife and the co-director (with me) of wilderness retreat center along the way.  By December, though, she’ll have completed her degree requirements, and will, next June, graduate right alongside our youngest daughter.  That’s a graduation I won’t want to miss.  Believe me: I’m not only proud of her, but humbled by her enormous investment in our life together.

If you’ve watched It’s a Wonderful Life or Mr. Holland’s Opus; if you’ve read your Bible and looked at the lives of Joseph, or Moses, or David, or Paul;  if you’re over 45 years old, you know this:  Some dreams are put on hold.  There are at least two reasons for this: [Read more...]

Home – wherever you are

My wife and I are standing on the rocks en route to the Guttenberg Haus, high in the Dachstein region of the Austrian Alps.  I’ve seen this hut from my room, down in the valley, where I stay when I teach in Austria, but I’ve never been here in the summer, when its open.

As we pause for a sip of water I look down and see the ski jump facility in Ramsau, a small Alpine village that lives by farming and tourism.  I realize, as I look at this ski jump, that I’ve stood beside it often.  The first time was with a friend who’d been a student at our outdoor ministry in the Cascades.  She lives in Ramsau and we walked to the top of the ski jump together.  Another year it was with a group of students, as we hiked from the school, up to Ramsau, to the ski jump and stood at the top.  Two years ago I stood down there at the ski jump with m whole family as we enjoyed “Christmas in Austria”, as my teaching responsibilities and our children’s schedules converged to create a moment of travel together.

I come and go.  The ski jump remains.  But each time I return, the ski jump has more meaning, because it’s filled with memories.  There are similar memories in other places in the world: a small island in British Columbia, a chalet in Rocky mountains, a chapel in Montana.

[Read more...]

Home – wherever you are

My wife and I are standing on the rocks en route to the Guttenberg Haus, high in the Dachstein region of the Austrian Alps.  I’ve seen this hut from my room, down in the valley, where I stay when I teach in Austria, but I’ve never been here in the summer, when its open.

As we pause for a sip of water I look down and see the ski jump facility in Ramsau, a small Alpine village that lives by farming and tourism.  I realize, as I look at this ski jump, that I’ve stood beside it often.  The first time was with a friend who’d been a student at our outdoor ministry in the Cascades.  She lives in Ramsau and we walked to the top of the ski jump together.  Another year it was with a group of students, as we hiked from the school, up to Ramsau, to the ski jump and stood at the top.  Two years ago I stood down there at the ski jump with m whole family as we enjoyed “Christmas in Austria”, as my teaching responsibilities and our children’s schedules converged to create a moment of travel together.

I come and go.  The ski jump remains.  But each time I return, the ski jump has more meaning, because it’s filled with memories.  There are similar memories in other places in the world: a small island in British Columbia, a chalet in Rocky mountains, a chapel in Montana.

[Read more...]