You don't throw a whole life away just 'cause it's banged up a little

The other night, I watched "Seabiscuit" with four friends. It is the true-story of a David horse with a Goliath heart, a country which at the time had been building exponently on the American dream, and the people whose dream had been recently shattered by it's own drive.

It's a story of some unlikely heros

* Seabiscuit "the Biscuit" - a down and out, left for broken, thorough-bred race horse
* Johnny "Red" Pollard - a partially-blind, beaten up rider abandoned as a child by his depression-suffering family
* Charles Howard - a millionaire who had lost everthing: his money, his relationships, his progeny
* Tom Smith - the quiet and mysterious horse trainer whose free-range heart had been barbed by American progress

I was reminded of how different each one was from the other and it was their differences that helped each other so greatly. And how their loyalty to one another ensured their success. And the success of Seabiscuit would not have happened without each one of them. They really didn't set out to find each other; it just happened that way - serendipity (or might I say providence) at its finest. They each had traveled, at some point, from the bottom of the heap to the top. That's probably why Seabiscuit resonated with so many people... that's the way America especially likes to crown its champions... those who have fought and clawed their way to the top.

However, the fifth unlikely hero is the one of whom I want to make the most mention. Because he did not necessarily climb the ladder up... in fact, he climbed the ladder down.

* George Woolf - a gifted jockey who was willing to step back to help another friend step up

Woolf was a generous man and a good friend to Red Pollard. When Pollard was injured in a near-fatal accident, Pollard recommended Woolf take his place on top of Seabiscuit in an important race. And when Woolf rode Seabiscuit to victory, he was asked how it felt to win. From the horses mount, Woolf's response was something like, "I only wish my friend Red Pollard could be here to enjoy it instead of me". I was glad-hearted to hear such a humble response. And when in one of the last races they would do together, it was Woolf that slowed down in a race to let Pollard and Seabiscuit catch up and give Seabiscuit the determination to kick it in a higher gear (Pollard and Woolf knew that, when challenged, Seabiscuit would press to victory)! Woolf's actions spoke volumes to me. Jockeys had to win to stay in the game. But Woolf took a step back to help a friend up.

I'm reminded of something Louie Giglio wrote a long time ago (January 2001). Check it out here --> http://www.passionnow.org/lgjournal011701.htm

In it, he talks about his own ascent to the top of the Matterhorn. But that was only half (although the foremost in his mind at the time) of the battle. But the way down would provide the most insight.

the christian life is a continual journey to new lows of greatness. His call is
simple... humble yourself and become as small as you are so that Christ in you
can be as big as He is. with the world, all the glory is in getting up. with
God, it's all in getting down.

You don't throw a whole life away just 'cause it's banged up a little. And I suppose when you know where you're going, it doesn't matter what it looks like.


All for now,
Lisa

It's all about the Journey

Every goal is a grave, when you get there. DH Lawrence

DH Lawrence's quote is quite appropriate for this journal entry. For I've understood for a while that it's not about the end, but the journey. But the end is also important, and should not be ignored. I suppose now I view the end as the beginning. That the end of life will oblidge eternity for me.

But this is the time of my education. I've learned on this journey so far is that we must "let the puzzle of the human heart be what it is."

Drifting off to sleep, I thought about [my mother]. How nobody is perfect. How
you just have to close your eyes and breathe out and let the puzzle of the human
heart be what it is. The Secret Life of Bees, Sue Monk Kidd

And that at that point in time you become anxious because you outgrow your most comfortable answers that you will let stillness be the teacher. Or maybe the pointer or road marker of sorts.

Stillness is the sign post
Jesus is the teacher

It points the way to Jesus because His still, silent voice must be discerned - an ear stretched to hear it. What also I have learned recently is that sometimes Jesus can be still also. Not necessarily giving you an answer or direction (for those of us who have walked in obedience a while that can be too comfortable). I'm reminded of Jehoshaphat and his response to God. When Israel was being invaded by the mighty armies, his repsonse was "For we have no power to face this vast army that is attacking us. We do not know what to do, but our eyes are upon you." (2 Chron 20)

So, my eyes are upon You. My ears are tuned to the sound of Your voice. And I am present at this point of my journey.

All for now,
Lisa

OPA!

Today my father celebrates 73 years on this earth. Happy Birthday, Dadeo!

My daddy is an amazing man, but that word seems completely inadequate. But what word would be? A friend of mine said, "Maybe what the heart feels most keenly can’t be pressed neatly into language." That's how I feel. But nonetheless, let me try to tell you a little about him.

Let me tell you how he was the first from his family EVER to graduate college (and one of the few to graduate high school (first in his class I might add)... and even go on to complete a Master's Degree. The last son of Greek immigrant parents, he had to work his way from the "wrong side of the tracks" through the Navy (for a college scholarship) to being vice-president of an oil corporation.

He's a child of the depression but there's nothing depressing in his memories of his childhood. I love the way he fondly recollects fun times, sad events, and still moments with his family. He had a healthy fear of his father and a tender softness with his mother (both of whom I only know through his stories).

I, too, have good memories of my childhood. I remember how being outside at night and just seeing the red glow from the end of his cigarette told me safety was just in the distance. I not only remember him being there but also how important it was to him to be there at all my recitals, concerts, games, half-time shows, and other celebrations... and that made me feel the most special!! For that I am forever grateful. He was always supportive of my dreams, as lofty as they could be. And that showed me the value of having dreams.

Oh how I've always loved just to hang around with him. My dad has a fun sense about him. I love his tenderness which he often tries to hide under a facade of the tough guy image of his generation. But he knows with one look from me that he can't get away with it and his shy smile tells me it’s ok anyway. I love the way he can get tickled and starts giggling so much he starts tearing up. I also love the way he can strike up a conversation with virtually anyone. It never ceases to amaze me how he can always find common ground with someone and I'm over and over again stunned by how much he knows. I love that he calls me with newspaper details that he knows I would want to know and saves those State's quarters for me without me having to ask. The best thing I love is the way I'm sure he's always going to say, "I love you" before we depart.

And let me speak of his generosity. I think the most generous people are ones that had nothing to begin with. It goes without saying that he literally would give his last dollar to his child (and this child is grateful), but I'm humbled by the number of times and the extravagant ways he's gone to offer a friend or a stranger a heaping helping hand.

He's an excellent teacher. He's taught me so much. How to throw a ball (he is why I can throw a football spiral so well), how to tell a joke, how to do math (he's a whiz), how to play cards, how to read a map, how to dance, and how to fix about anything that's broken. True story on my father's teaching ability... One day (probably about 1995), I was in a Texaco training class and an older gentleman was sitting next to me. I noticed he kept staring at my name tag and then looking at me, then staring at my name tag and then glancing back at me. I got a little scared. Then he said, "Karabatsos, that's an interesting name... is it your married name" (now, I was really freaked out). I said, "No, it's my daddy's name". Then he said, "Is your father George Karabatsos?" "Yes, he is". Then you won't believe this, but he said, "Well, your father was the graduate teaching assistant in my first-year geology class at the University of Nebraska in 1955 and I think the best one I had". WOW!!! The man remembered my father 40 years later!!!

But mostly he taught me to be the best person I could be. And the value of family as priority. He taught me that family was so much more important than the world thought it was. It was important to stick with them through thick and thin and to be there for each other. Life has not been easy for him, but he has been easy to be with. Together, we've been through the loss of my sister and other horrible tragedies. But it's been a little more bearable because we've been through it together.

My dad doesn't move as fast now as he used to and sometimes he tells me the same story over again, but to me, my dad will always be the Greek titan I remember as my hero. My sister said it best when she wrote in a card to him years ago, "Dad, you've been an Olympic 10.0 dad... thanks!"

I love you, daddy. And I thank God for you.


All for now,
Lisa

Jesus made a bridge out of two boards and three nails

This was on a marquee of a church that I passed cycling last Saturday morning.

One of the things I like most about cycling is speed. And it's probably not the speed that comes first to your mind. Because while I do like going down hills fast, what I like most about cycling is that you're going slowly enough to be able to read boards like this and because you're going slower it gives you time to think about things... and have different trails of thoughts which can be totally unrelated. Let me demonstrate.

Trail #1
Yes, Jesus did make a bridge for us; for which I am forever thankful. And yes it was out of two boards and three nails, but that's not the crucial element(s). Because while those boards and nails were used, what was critical (and not mentioned) was His body. Because without His body, all it was were two boards and three nails. And there is nothing especially redemptive about that.

Trail #2
Wasn't He a carpenter by trade? Just a cursory thought, but it just got me thinking sideways for a moment. I suppose because I like making things out of common objects not normally valued. I think this is called found art.

Trail #3
Somewhat related to trail #2. Thinking about found art got me thinking of a great hymn... Amazing Grace (another thing I like about cycling (and usually cycling alone) is that you can sing and you might get some strange looks and though you may be going slow, you're going fast enough to pass any strange looks quickly). The line that came to mind was I once was lost and now I'm found. I was a common object not normally valued and He made me priceless.

I think Jesus likes found art too.


All for now,
Lisa

It's in the Hymns

I'm a sucker for a great hymn. Don't get me wrong. If you know anything about me, you know that I lean towards contemporary praise songs. And my preference is a contemporary over a traditional worship service. But, nonetheless, I'm a sucker for a great hymn. And though it seems that many a contemporary artist (Bart Millard, Amy Grant, Ashley Cleveland, Jars of Clay just to name a few) is now recasting the great hymns, I guess you could say, I was a hymner before being a hymner was cool.

So, last night, a friend of mine and I went to the Robbie Seay Band CD release party. It was a rockin' time! Before they played the hymn, "Come Ye Sinners". Robbie mentioned that a music critic had recently written in his review that RSB's version of it was a "unnecessary but fine arrangement". Well, in my opinion (as well as a few others) RSB does a fantasic job of this hymn. Matter of fact, I had never heard this hymn before RSB played it. So, I thank him for that and I thank him for his wonderful arrangement.

I found out that "Come Ye Sinners" was written by Joseph Hart in 1759. That's 246 years ago if you're counting. Think about that one. It was written before the American Revolution. But how timely is the message? I think that's what keeps coming home to me with hymns and maybe why I love them so much. How easily I can identify with someone who lived so long ago.

Here's the lyrics. Ponder them if you have a moment.

Come, ye sinners, poor and needy,
Weak and wounded, sick and sore;
Jesus ready stands to save you,
Full of pity, love and power.

Refrain
I will arise and go to Jesus,
He will embrace me in His arms;
In the arms of my dear Savior,
O there are ten thousand charms.

Come, ye thirsty, come, and welcome,
God’s free bounty glorify;
True belief and true repentance,
Every grace that brings you nigh.

Come, ye weary, heavy laden,
Lost and ruined by the fall;
If you tarry till you’re better,
You will never come at all.

View Him prostrate in the garden;
On the ground your Maker lies.
On the bloody tree behold Him;
Sinner, will this not suffice?

Lo! th’incarnate God ascended,
Pleads the merit of His blood:
Venture on Him, venture wholly,
Let no other trust intrude.

Let not conscience make you linger,
Not of fitness fondly dream;
All the fitness He requireth
Is to feel your need of Him.

So, do you have a favorite hymn or hymns? If so, any particular reason?

Unshakling Mysteries

Even though my mom noted early on that I was quite skillful with my hands, most of my life has been a very black and white adventure - punctuated by an MBA and 15 years in business. My journey into the hues has been marked by a series of unexpected signposts. The allure of art has been a recent yet irresistible attraction. I have discovered that art unshackles mysteries which cannot merely be seen. They must be experienced.

So, what has been the key to unshakle mysteries for you? Maybe the experience was reading a book or completing some goal that you've had for a while.