A year!

So it's been a year since I've posted anything. Time to get back to blogging!

... And on we go!

SO ...

I seem to have attracted a couple of readers! I'd be pleased except for the comments that were left.

I have my suspicions as to who "Anonymous" is ... I'll let any readers that may read this blog (which is probably none as I've been inactive for so long!) comment here with their guesses.

Dave

... The odyssey continues

Alive I am ...

One more step, two more steps ... It seems like 100 years of parenting since the split with the BP ex. I know she and her attorney follow this blog, more power to them. We are making it. They throw lies and innuendo, but somehow, we are still standing.

Thank God.

... Were not the right Man on our side ...

... And HE must win the battle.

It's a tough day. Waiting is so incredibly hard.

But I'm linking up with the "Waiting Underground" ...

There's a lot of us out there who are waiting. Maybe all of God's true children are waiting. I share my struggle. I talk of the wait.

And others tell me where they're waiting. Where they've waited.

How they didn't wait. How they jumped in ... and screwed things up.

Let me commend to all of us who are waiting, Bob the Tomato. That's right, the noted Veggie Tale. The limbless, hairless vegetable who loves God.

Or at least his creator and voice, Phil Vischer.

I think God wanted me to get this message last week. Hopped in the car and Christian Radio was on. God has been quietly instructing me to flip it on lately ... and I haven't gone there in years.

And I'm appalled at what's there. I'm seriously moved to ... wait, that's another story.

But Friday morning I heard a voice that was vaguely familiar ... Tighe jumped in the car with me ... we headed to school to a great story that captivated us both.

Now understand that I haven't had Christian radio on as a habit for years. So for my radio to be set there is simply a God thing ...

And the story ... about a man serving God by creating wonderful talking vegetables that have certainly blessed me, inspired my kids and made all of us laugh for years ... The story of that man serving God in his dream and finding ... that God would not allow a dream to become an idol.

So many thoughts there... But the idea that it's not about what I DO FOR GOD. It's whose I am. HIS.

And that it's WAITING that allows me to KNOW the lover of my soul.

... Great is thy faithfulness my God ...

Check out Phil Vischer (aka Bob the Tomato) on Focus on the Family ...

I hope this link stays active for a time ... When Your Dreams Die ...

Dave

Our own private housing crisis ...

Slip slidin' away ... you know the nearer your destination the more it's slip-slidin' away ...

My home, our home, at 17 Woodland Drive, is no longer our home. The bank did what the bank has threatened to do for the 15 years we had this predatory lender ... they foreclosed.

I could have paid. I could have refinanced. I could have done a loan modification. I suppose I even could have delayed with a bankruptcy.

But when you combine a predatory lender with an angry ex-spouse you get ... foreclosure.

Spouses have to sign for any changes to occur when they have an interest in a property.

But it's only a thing. Things don't last.

There are memories from 17 Woodland. There are some wonderful memories ... Birthdays ... first everythings for 4 of the 5 kids ... tooth fairy visits ... food creations that went well ... and some that didn't but we laughed anyway.

And then there are the other memories. Police visits because of violent assaults by Mom. Vicious attacks. Screaming at neighbors. Clothes, dirt, grime, purchases all piled so high we couldn't walk around them ... and the yelling if we tried to fix it.

So we did the final cleanout. Since mom was taken out of the home (unwillingly but SO necessarily) we had already gutted 60 cu yards of trash in dumpsters. Old stuff that was too "precious" to part with had already been disposed of ... after she passed it by on several walk-throughs. Old carpet too rotten to stay on the floor. Newpapers, magazines, handouts from who knows where ... all kept for the possible day ... but not taken by her when she left ... and again, passed over in walk-through after walk-through.

That stuff had incredible power. She brought it up time and again in court... DON'T YOU DARE DUMP MY STUFF. Some had to go. Insects, space, time required it to go. But so much we still held on to. She would come and get it. She demanded it all stay for her inspection. For her to cherish. For her to control our lives with by it's demanding presence.

But then, a move-out date loomed. There was no choice. What freedom we had when we moved her stuff out for her to take. Of course, she took almost none of it. "But don't throw it out."

Stuff controls us. Not just her, all of us. I felt such freedom letting go of so many things. Letting go of this house that was always too big as a project ... too much to be done by a busy family ... to rehab a house in as bad shape as it was 18 years ago ...

So we let it all go ... a total of 120 cu yards of stuff we pitched. So much more we sold, gave away, recycled. Working to make a blessing out of all this ... stuff.

And we are beginning to walk in freedom. We're STILL sorting through, pitching, protecting the very little that's priceless.

Stuff ... holds us with an angry death grip. God begs us to let our stuff go and hold on to Him. Our stuff comforts us, helps us not see our own weaknesses and our own flaws. It also cruds up everything, gives us stumbling blocks beyond measure.

The house is gone ... but the home is still being built.

Lost in "Let's Remember"...

I am. I am lost and awash. Thanks to Facebook I've been talking to people I haven't talked to in 30 and more years.

All of it is good to bring the years into focus. Years slip by and we change. But the changes aren't put in side-by-side comparison with the past very often. Who was I then? Who am I now?

I was insanely idealistic. I think I still am.

Some of the comparisons are hard. I still haven't finished my first screenplay, my first Broadway play. My great novel has not yet been written. I am not yet a captain of industry.

But I have 5 great kids and a good job.

I think I'm doin' great.

Dave Nichols

Away ... and a manger

"...See Tighe, that's just like Jesus' manger..."

Now I KNOW I've read the Christmas story to my kids. We've talked at length about the real meaning of Christmas (that's a phrase used so much it needs its own acronym, "trmoc").

So it shocked me when my friend Connie said something to my youngest about a manger and he said, "What's a manger?"

I felt devastated. I felt like I'd absolutely let my kids down. Like they had been given no Christian training by me at all. Like I was a heathen of a parent.

If you've followed my irregular posts, you know I've said how surprised I am at times at the shape of my life. There was always a picture in my mind of a sweet Christian family gathered around a table and praying. Learning. Drinking in Jesus.

I don't mean to demean that picture, it's a beautiful one. I wish it for my kids.

But God had work to do first. And it all kind of crystallized today, Sunday.

What a wonderful church God has blessed us with. During this advent service, our amazing worship team has been encouraged by our pastor to cut loose after the benediction with any appropriate Christmas song they want...

They've rocked us out to fellowship time to Rudolph. They've done the Eagles Please Be Home for Christmas. Today they left us with Jingle Bell Rock.

I grabbed a coffee and boogied back to Connie and Rand. Yes, I was... GASP... dancing! I passed the wife of one of our elders... I honestly don't know her well but her husband, Darryl Erickson, is from Montana I believe and has a background in the Evangelical (Swedish) Covenant Church as have I. Darryl is one of my favorite people, though I know him far too little as well.

As I passed Darryl's wife I said, "I suppose I shouldn't be dancing... I went to Seattle Pacific". She laughed and said, I want to dance to, and I went to Wheaton.

We stood there swapping stories of restrictions on activities... hers more extreme from being in the Christian College movement a few years before I was.

And tonight as our worship bands absolutely rocked the house it hit me... ALL of this I've gone through... Tighe not knowing the manger story well (though he DOES know Jesus), my kids not having been in church for years (there's a story behind that)... but all of that... has been a grace.

So much of the legalistic crud I had woven into the heart of my worship is gone... and none of it is in them. They come to Jesus free of the idea that their works will make them whole. They are moving joyously (finally) into a church relationship and a knowledge of the Bible free of the idea that some kinds of thinking about God might damn them... didn't we who grew up like that have to cross every theological "I" and get it right? I did! God forbid I should think an Arminian thought or a Charismatic one.

THANK GOD for the freedom we have in Christ. Thank God for the hard, painful path that has flushed this OUT of my family.

As the psalmist said in Psalm 16...

The lines are fallen unto me in pleasant places; yea, I have a goodly heritage. Psalm 16:6

Praise you God, for although the road be rough, the destination is gold.

Dave