The Story of Us…a (rerun) favorite.

I’m taking some time off this week, so I decided to post an old favorite. This blog also appeared on Christian ebooks today last year.

Blessings as you approach the cross this week. May Christ’s sacrifice outshine the Easter Bunny (not that I don’t like the Easter Bunny).

 

Stories that breathe – ghosts of family legacies, the mishaps, failures and the champions of our past are the myriad steps to a life well-lived for those big eyed-pink cheeked souls sitting around our dinner table.
Chloe loves to run; the destination not necessarily tangible. Mud puddles, my mom’s place in the country, sidewalks and fiercely windy days have been pounded by 5 year old feet. When I see her face, I know she is feeling the joy of doing something that has been designed into her precious soul.

On a family outing to the park, we split up to race each other home. Noah and John went one way; stroller and straight paths, Chloe and I went another direction on foot and ready to win. Our path was a little more challenging, and Chloe slowed to a walk half-way into our race.

“Your Papa won a trophy in high school. He was the fastest runner in the state of Arizona.”

Before I finished the sentence, she grew wings. We won. She just needed to know that she had the blood of a champion.

My great uncle wrote a family history with the good and the bad; everything tied up in an honest bow. There were stories of the warriors, the civil war cousins – one who camped on the others lawn, and then there were the details that sent prickles up my spine; the artists and writers and those in medicine whose passions trickled down the line more than a hundred years later.

What do we see when we look back?100_1331

Failures, victories, heroes and villains. One step forward, two steps back until a leap of faith makes a hero.

I tell Chloe about her Papa, and how he had his own struggles, but had feet like wings. He had little education but worked hard and found his final job working with N.A.S.A. He tried and failed, and tried again and again until his work literally reached the stars.

Family histories are a lifeline. We must tell our stories to our children, so when they need that extra push, all they have to do is reach back and grab the baton. We propel them forward by running our race hard enough to reach them, even when we have passed into the land of spirits.

But those that hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint. Isaiah 40:31

Harriet Tubman

I could almost feel the snow flakes lilting over the audience.
3D glasses and my favorite little girl made for a snapshot of wonder inside the theater when the world outside was living inside lines drawn by control freaks.
I was 5 again with Chloe and wanted nothing more than to stick out my tongue and catch a snowflake. I could see it, sense it, but a few hours later we were back outside dreaming of fantasies and legends left behind in the darkened room.

How soon we forget that we do live in a world of fantasy, but not how the dictionary defines it.

Fantasy: noun. The faculty or activity of imagining things that are impossible or improbable.

In comes my latest research read – a book on Harriet Tubman.

If your memories of history class are dulled by forgotten dates and blank spaces, take one day to know Harriet Tubman.
She was a slave, a hero, Moses and the stuff of legends.
Her story is absolute truth and full of events you now find only in fantasy books.

And the Bible. It’s amazing how we can read something so much that we forget the main point.

A vital part of The Underground Railroad, Harriet Tubman escorted approximately

Photo from Wikipedia

Wikipedia

300 slaves to freedom. Every time she journeyed to collect a new group of slaves she knowingly risked her life.

When she was a child, she received a blow to the head which caused narcolepsy. She would, without warning, fall into a deep sleep, unable to be awakened until her body said so.

Here’s where God turns tragedy into miracles.

When she was “out” she claimed that she had visions of places she had never seen before, but later came upon in real life. These places she would find when escorting people out of slavery – she recognized them from her dreams and would know where to lead her group to freedom.

How many times have I wished I knew which direction to go? Yep, a bold sign in 3D would be the ticket.

“Miracles only happen in the Bible.” How many times have we heard (or thought) this?

Well, Harriet Tubman came long after The Bible was written. A skeptic? Here is a good, free ebook on her life, along with plenty of documentation about her gifts: Get it here.

I think she saw the extraordinary for at least one reason – she dedicated her life entirely to following God’s voice. No worries about saving up for a comfortable retirement or an epic vacation – just walking each day with God. When she had a vision, an inkling, a prophetic dream, she didn’t rush to the mirror to find “crazy” in her eyes, or find the civil war version of Dr. Phil – she followed God’s instructions. Not her own American dream, but that of her brothers and sisters.

What a country this would be if we could flip our “Me” theme to a God theme. The story of others, brothers, sisters, the neighbors, our families, that tear – streaked face in the grocery line. We could put aside ourselves, discover our mission, and clearly see the God-sign say:“GO.”

Do you have your own miracle-story? Share it with us in the comments.